A/n: Thanks again to my beta Tessa Cresswell!

Don't forget to check out my profile for links to other websites I use. Mostly I use my facebook but I'm working on the other ones!

Disclaimer: All characters belong to J. K Rowling.

Disclaimer: Plot is similar to the book Fallen by Lauren Kate, but I have never read this book (or books?) so I don't know if it will continue to be the same. This has nothing to do with angels and constantly dying, just to let you know. I don't think it will be too similar.

Part 1: What Happened Last Night, 1999 (Life Six)

Draco Abraxas Malfoy and Hermione Jean Granger

Her eyes slowly opened to take in the morning light. The first thing she registered was how much it hurt. The headache she had already developed at this early hour was monstrous, and she struggled to remember how that had formed as she looked around for a clock. Reading the time, she groaned; it was just past noon. Not so early after all. She threw the blanket back over her head, willing the world around her to disappear. What had she done to deserve this nuisance?

Slowly, the events from last night entered her head; the drinking, her friends, Viktor and Malfoy. She remembered being embodied in a cloak, Malfoy's cloak, and hurrying back here. Panicked, she reached a hand out slowly to search for another occupant. When she found no body lying beside her she released a sigh; at least in her drunken state she hadn't been a complete idiot.

It was strange that Malfoy had been such a dominate part of her memory, but as she thought more about the previous night it made sense; the memories he had shared with her were brief, though she only remembered two, and they had seemed to touch on one, key subject that the blond was ever reluctant to say, even after he exposed her to the history they shared. Her own words echoed in her head; "I only know me, I don't know you. I don't even understand you! So you should tell me."

He hadn't told her though, not with the use of words. Each of the two memories she had from last night echoed throughout her head. His pain, each time they were apart, and the remorse that was buried there. She would never have known how he felt, unless she had asked him to show her. And show her he had; she couldn't help but feel a bit cold as she remembered how she had treated him since he opened her mind up to everything she had been missing.

Never say we are far from obvious this time

There was endearment there, laced beneath a cold, brutal exterior, a whole other side of Draco Malfoy- of Lowell Malfoy- that no one was permitted to see. But in all fairness, she barely knew the blond man Lowell Malfoy had become in this life- she knew his past self-better than his living self. So, with every other life aside, what did she really think of his soul?

Tortured. That was the best word for it. He was tortured with knowing everything she had not; dealing with everything she had not known until recently. Reveling in the multiple ways her past self-had died, she was open to a whole new side of reality. Few people knew what it was like to die, and although she had no memories of the afterlife, something like that had to exist for her to be sitting there now after so many decades, right?

She reached up, rubbing her head. All this thinking was doing nothing for her massive headache, although she couldn't stop. She was suddenly looking at things not only through her past eyes, but through his as well. Snippets of time that had been granted to her to see were now reflected before her, and what did she think?

Perhaps I was too quick to judge him. She may never be willing to say it out loud, but a small part of her now doubted her first thoughts on this whole ordeal; a small part of her now wanted to listen to what the blond had been saying all along, and believe him. It was an odd revelation, considering how much effort she had been putting into both ignoring and thinking about him, and Hermione Granger had never been known to second guess her original thoughts.

She rolled over, her head screaming in protest to every little thing. Hangovers were a bitch, and although she could easily go and find herself a potion to take care of the problem, she didn't want to; everything seemed like a massive obstacle. She was quite content lying in bed, trying to make the headache subside.

Omar Julian Malfoy (20) and Annalisa Coralie Williams (19), Life Three: 1649

She sat on the porch, watching in admiration as the man across from her held and played with his two children. The family sat not far away from the married couple, holding their children tightly, the mother looking happier than the father when she looked on at her spouse; both equally happy when they looked at their children.

Annalisa didn't know their names. She knew the parents, knew them quite well in fact, as Omar and Vivienne Malfoy, the prestigious if not stuck up family that lived not too far from her. Although both families were rich, she knew she would not be accepted into that precious little circle of theirs. Her mother had to marry that muggle man, Maddox, and her reputation was forever scarred. It wasn't that the woman exactly cared about blood status, but she did find it a drawback that because of her mother's actions people looked down on her. She wanted nothing to hold her back from doing anything, going after anything in her life, but it didn't seem she was given that luxury. At least she had found a man that seemed to care for her though, Gary, and he had no problem overlooking her step-father's blood status. That really was a luxury.

From afar she studied the pair, watching as the mother hugged the younger child tight. It was warm out, meaning the child did not need much clothing; she could take into account how chubby it was, and couldn't help thinking it was adorable. The elder one by barely a year sat beside her in the father's lap, Omar occasionally bouncing the young boy to make him giggle. Now didn't they just look like a right happy couple?

She suppressed a sigh and looked away, letting her husband continue to speak with the man beside him about business. They had been trying to have a child for nearly a year now, without success. She could not keep the jealousy out of her heart that two very proud, often cold people were gifted with two children when she could not bear one. And on top of that, they were truly fine children. She knew those heir's would not die young like so many unfortunate others, because both of their parents had the means to save their lives. Would it hurt the pair so bad to donate a bit of money?

She remembered a time when she had been close with the man before her, and now she did not even know the names of his children. Where had the time gone? Looking at them, she felt a pang of guilt that she had not kept her friendship with the male as tight as it once had been. Her year away in another town had truly weighed their relationship down, that was for certain. For now, she needed someone to speak to about the husband she knew had only disappointment in her. He would listen, and would understand her pain- in the best way he could. But how could that man ever really understand how she felt, when he had two children before him?

Brushing back her long hair, she sat up straight as her husband gave her an odd look. She knew she must look down, and that was not acceptable. Never could she let him know how disappointed she felt in herself, not without making him feel shame as well. No, best to simply paint a smile on her face and keep going in life.

Now if only that task did not seem so difficult.

"Why are thou so sad," Gary asked her later that night, rubbing her cheek softly as they sat together in bed. Her hair had been brushed and washed, and now hung around her. He loved it best when she looked like that; light and free.

"It is nothing," she said softly, leaning up to softly kiss him. Worrying him was not an option, and so long as she could hide her fears, there would be no worries.

She did not want to be childless forever.

When she pulled away, Gary was looking at her strangely again, just like earlier when they shared lunch. Unsure whether or not he had begun to see through her lie, she leaned up again and kissed his lips, hoping to distract.

It worked like a charm, and all the words that he may have said were lost as he placed a kind hand on the back of her head, kissing her back as the kiss deepened. Yes, so long as he was happy and distracted, he would never see her pain or suppressed tears.

She awoke to the sound of knocking on her door. Groaning at the loud noise, she rubbed sleep from her eyes. What could this insistent person want, and why did they need to be so loud about their demand? Stumbling from bed as she attempted to rub the sleep from her eyes, she snatched up her wand, bringing the hangover potion she had made earlier to her; it was always good to be prepared. Noting that she still wore her clothing from last night, she rummaged through her bag for a bathrobe while downing the drink, still trying to ignore the thudding sound on her door.

By the time she got the door, the screaming had begun. "Hermione! Are you awake?"

"Yes Ronald, I am," she groaned as the door was thrown open. On the other side stood Harry, Ron and Viktor, all of whom looked far better than she did.

Ron, ever humble, was the first to say something. "I take it you didn't wake up early and down that potion we made, did you?"

She huffed. "You think?" She turned her back on the three who followed her into the room. They all looked well-dressed and ready for another day, save Viktor who looked a bit tired, just like her. They were just two peas in a pod, weren't they?

"Well, get dressed," the ginger continued, pointedly ignoring the irritated glares she continued to shoot his way. "We have plans! We are all going to go down to…"

She shut him out of her mind, sitting down slowly on the bed. Ron was a great friend, but she really didn't care where they planned to go so long as it was quiet. Besides, she was wondering about her dream.

As Annalisa, she had been dedicated to making sure her husband was happy, at the expense of her own feelings. They had two sons in the end, but why had this particular memory played in her mind? She could've dreamed of any of her five past lives, or anything about this one, but that particular, rather pointless part of her existence as Annalisa Williams was what stuck in her mind. If that was the case, then why?

Was there a pattern to what triggered memories? She wasn't sure, but it would be quite interesting to know. She could focus in on so many key points and analyze everything she knew. Merlin, she could really have fun with this if she put her mind to it!

That alcohol really had an effect if I'm so overly happy about all of this. She shook her head, trying to tap back into what her friends were saying. The weekend wasn't over yet, and she shouldn't be spending her scarce time here thinking about everything swirling in her mind. She would have plenty of time for that when classes started again on Monday.

Part 2: Curiosity, 1999 (Life Six)

Draco Abraxas Malfoy and Hermione Jean Granger

She had never before anticipated sitting beside Draco Malfoy before until that first potions class on Monday. She could not believe how curious she was to ask him things, yet so afraid. She had not listened to him for so long, what would make him think she cared now?

Saying goodbye to Viktor yesterday had been hard, even if it was just until the next time they had the opportunity to hang out. The Quidditch star was a close friend, even if he seemingly wanted more out of their relationship sometimes; he was still wonderful company.

It wasn't until halfway through class that she even had the opportunity to look at him. Snape droned on and on for a good forty minutes, before assigning them a task and promptly sitting at his desk, quite possibly so he could attempt to ignore everyone. When everyone had gathered their ingredients and sat back down, she finally found an excuse to speak to him.

"You didn't grab any daisies," she said kindly, drawing his attention. The blond glanced up from his work, noting that he had been too distracted and indeed did not have one of the key ingredients to the potion. How silly.

"I see," he replied, detaching himself from all emotion as he replied. He turned without another word and went to retrieve what he had forgotten. When he returned, he was surprised that she spoke to him, again.

"You sound tired."

That happens when you spend too much time considering what you have lost. "I had a difficult time getting to sleep," he replied, wondering why she cared at all. He had been under the impression that she didn't care for him, unless she was drunk and stupid.

"I'm sorry," she replied, continuing to work. The gears in her head were spinning, contemplating how to bring up her next topic.

"Aren't you cold," he asked suddenly, drawing her attention. She looked up oddly.

"Not at all."

"No, you're cold," he pressed, looking at her as well. She couldn't quite place what she saw in his eyes, but he looked quite worried indeed. No why would that be?

"Don't be silly," she replied, going back to her work. She never understood him these days. Hell, she had never really understood him before either. When they were quiet for a moment, she decided to change topics, speaking again. "Did you enjoy Hogsmeade?"

The blond arched an eyebrow but didn't look up, wondering if she actually knew he had been there at all. Did she even remember seeing him? "Not as much as I have in the past."

"Why is that," she questioned, digging deeper. Maybe he would say something that she could use to ease into her real topic of choice.

He shrugged. "There have been far less stressful visits in the past Granger."

You're so endearing

She crinkled her nose. "Stressful? Didn't you go to that party down-"

"Yes, I attended," he snapped, and she noted the way his attitude immediately changed. Well, that filled in the gap as to how they met up… at least a bit. But now that they were straying onto difficult topics, she could start edging towards what she really wanted to discuss.

"Did you not enjoy yourself?"

"I would've much rather spent my time doing other things."

"So I'm guessing that means you truly dislike my company despite our history?"

He nearly dropped in too many pieces of the flower as she said this. Setting the plant down carefully, he turned and gave her a pointed look. "I thought you were ignoring anything that I had shown you," he said tightly.

She leaned in a bit, not enough to be suspicious to bystanders but enough to make anyone think they were in the middle of a heated argument, like always. "I was until yesterday."

"And why is that," he asked bitterly, turning away to continue working. She was a bit put off with how easily he turned away during this discussion, but she got the feeling it was because of something other than hostility.

Hermione leaned forwards on the table so she could look up at his face from the side, noting that although his features were tense his eyes were soft. "Because you made me see a different side of things."

He glanced over. "Don't flatter me; if you are trying to connive something out of me just say it."

She frowned. "Why would I be trying to get something from you?"

He huffed. "Please Granger, don't insult my intelligence. You're stubborn, just like me. You wouldn't change your perspective on something like this in one bloody night."

She tilted her head to the side a bit. "How would you know? You don't know what I'm thinking."

That seemed to peak his interest, if only a little bit. Lifting his head, he opened his mouth to say something, when his eyes slid over to the professor, sitting idly at his desk. Instantly, his mindset changed. "Get back to work."

"Beg pardon," she asked, thrown. Why was his attitude changing so suddenly? Her eyes followed where his had been moments before, and spied Snape sitting there observing the two closely. There were plenty of other students in the classroom who had accomplished far less meaningful things in the time both of them had nearly finished; why was he paying them special attention.

She vaguely recalled a 'Snape' from her past lives, an Alabaster Snape, but the name had not been frequent throughout her memories. Remembering did not seem to be a common trait, so what did she have to fear really? There was quite a bit of doubt in her mind that he actually remembered anything.

Turning back to what she had been doing, they worked in silence again as other students around them chatted away. Just as she was finishing, a note slid over to her, written in elegant handwriting;

This is not a topic of discussion one should be bringing up in class. If you really mean to discuss this seriously you yourself will find a time where we are able to talk, without lingering ears and odd stares.

She blinked. As far as she could tell, no one had been paying either of them any mind. Why would they? Usually all they ever did was yell or argue, after all. Picking up her quill, she scribbled a reply and shoved the paper back over to him.

Tonight, after dinner. You can come to my rooms and we will discuss this, since you are being so bloody picky over something you started. Who is really listening to us anyways?

He rolled his eyes. She really must not see it then, the way he looked at her. The blond had been getting a sickening feeling in the bottom of his stomach for ages now about his godfather, and watching him watch her during class only pushed him further towards the edge. He had hated Alabaster Snape once, and if Severus Snape wanted to walk in his past selves footsteps then all Draco could really do was stop him.

You would be surprised who bothers to linger and listen Granger. Now, will you throw on your bloody cloak? And why must I make the long trek to your rooms? This was all your idea.

She frowned at his reply, but a single glance at the blond made her rethink his request. Well, if it would make him more lenient to come to her room instead she wouldn't argue, she just wouldn't wear the cloak. Reaching behind her, she grabbed her jumper and threw it on, giving him a look as she did so.

Do you feel better now Malfoy? Now I've done something that you requested so you should do something for me, and come to my room. It would make me feel more comfortable.

He wondered just what the word 'comfortable' implied, but didn't think asking would be the best idea. Glancing up, he couldn't help smirking at the irritated look on his godfathers face. It's nice to know I've irritated him, but knowing he is really actually watching her doesn't make me feel that fantastic.

Snape's eyes slid over, locking on Draco's. The blond couldn't help noticing how angry he looked. Raising an eyebrow, the man looked away, as though not wanting to give away too much with one look. The blond wasn't sure he liked that much either; it was all just very unsettling.

Fine Granger, I will come to your room, just after dinner, so don't dally with your friends. But I do suggest that we stop passing this now; we have drawn unwanted attention.

She looked up, wondering just who was watching them. No one seemed to be looking over, or hurrying to look away, and she frowned. Just what was he talking about? She moved her quill to ask him just that, when his hand shot out and snatched the paper from right in front of her. She watched as he tapped it with his wand, the parchment tearing itself into shreds, shreds that evaporated into the floor. She raised her eyebrows; that was a new one.

Turning back to stare at the front she sighed. There was nothing to do now but wait. It seemed that he was very insistent on keeping this conversation hidden from everyone, and she couldn't exactly blame him. After all, who would believe either of them sane if they were heard discussing reincarnation to such extremes?

She was so lost in her thoughts she didn't notice the admiring grey eyes at her side. He watched her with a content expression, unwilling to believe that she was really ready to finally listen to him; he had given up all hope that this day would ever come.

You're so beautiful

He just wasn't sure how things were going to go later when they really had to sit down and actually talk about things. After six centuries, he wasn't even sure how to truly explain this to another human being.

"You didn't kill Malfoy today Hermione," Harry noted as they left class later on. She hadn't even realized that her friends were paying attention to her, when she knew very well that they were not the best students when it came to potions. Were they who Malfoy had been hinting at?

She nodded. "Yes, he was actually civil today."

"He must still be hung-over from this past weekend then," Ron said, nodding towards her. "Why else wouldn't he pick a battle with you?"

Because we actually have more of a past than I think I do with either of you- or your ancestors, I'm not even sure those 'Potter's' and 'Weasley's' were ever you. Hermione shrugged. "He doesn't have to be drunk to be calm; we talked about the potion we were making."

"Did yours nearly explode as well?" her ginger friend inquired, glancing at her.

She shook her head slowly. "No Ronald, nothing like that; but I can come up with multiple things you must've done to nearly make that combination bubble over. Really, this was a diluted spell; complicated, but diluted."

The ginger huffed. "It was bloody complicated! You had to do so many things-"

"Which were all written out for you-"

"Yes, in gibberish-"

"Oh look, there's Neville," Harry interrupted, stepping from between the two. He hurried ahead, leaving the bickering duo in his wake to catch up. They followed, but at a slower pace.

"Are you sure that was all you and Malfoy were discussing Hermione," Ron asked again, this time fully serious.

The brunette looked up at him. "Of course Ron; what else would we discuss?"

He shrugged. "I've no idea; I just thought I would ask."

"What even sparked the question?"

He glanced briefly at her eyes. "You just talked a long time is all."

"You watched me talk?"

"No," he replied, shaking his head, "I just noticed Snape glancing back at the two of you a lot, so you must've been talking or something."

Hermione nodded, slowing down as she heard this. Ron had noticed Snape watching them too? Had she been the only one really paying the man no mind? She rubbed her head, thrown by this. Had Ron noticed the note passing as well?

She found she couldn't ask him, not now that they had joined Harry and Neville. Besides, if he had seen he probably would've mentioned that as well. No, she wouldn't worry about it. She would simply only focus on how she was going to go about speaking with Malfoy about everything later that night.

Part 3: Who Fills Your Thoughts, 1748, (Life Four)

Damian P`ere Malfoy (15) and Rivkah Tabitha (18)

He couldn't get her out of his mind; not since meeting the fine beauty just days ago. Merlin, she had captured his heart, and he would never even have a chance with her because he was with another; he was with Gemma, and although Gemma truly was a gem, he did not hold gems in comparison to diamonds.

Why was he letting this stranger capture his heart so? He had a wonderful, new wife, yet his attention did not stay at home. He found himself returning to that spot more than was healthy.

He needed a distraction; he needed anything to break his mindset. But what?

His wife's hands were currently toying with the shirt he had yet to take off. He didn't need her to explain to him what she was after, for he knew, he just wasn't sure he could abide with his mind miles away.

She, however, didn't seem to care if his mind was in space. She was pulling at the fabric now, the little minx she was, and all he could even think about was she was not the right woman. Merlin help him.

The shirt was gone, and cool fingers danced across his bare chest. He closed his eyes, willing Rivkah's imagine to go away. But it only made matters worse. Without his eyes being open, he could imagine that it was someone else toying with him. And unfortunately, that got to him.

It didn't take long for him to flip them, placing her beneath him. Clothing disappeared quickly until there was nothing between them, yet he kept closing his eyes.

"Look at me," she breathed as he entered her, but that was simply something he could not abide by. Choosing to silence her demand by biting her neck, he forced his eyes tighter.

The only reason he got off at all was because he used the body of his wife beneath him, imagining another woman the whole time.

A woman he could never have.