A/n: I think you guys will like this chapter, at least a little bit. And for anyone who likes my tragedy or angst stories, check out my published one-shot "Forget Me Naught", which is up now! Hope you guys enjoy this chapter too! :D Thanks again to my beta Tessa Cresswell!

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:Trust Me, 1999 (Life Six)

Draco Abraxas Malfoy and Hermione Jean Granger

"More studying," Ron complained, crossing his arms tightly over his chest. The trio were sitting in the Great Hall for dinner, and Hermione had just decided that now would be a marvelous time to take her leave. She knew once they got into the Gryffindor common room Ron and Harry would have even more people on their side begging her to stay, and it would be far harder to shove away a crowd. Still, Ron's pouty reaction was not unexpected.

"Yes," she replied simply, finishing off her drink. Sliding her eyes away from the irritated blond, she noted that Harry was looking at her strangely too. Great, now she had no one on her side. "Snape has been quite hard on me recently-"

"Actually I think that Snape has been nicer to you than usual," the ginger interrupted, spitting food in her direction as he spoke. She could only roll her eyes at his terrible manners. "Maybe it's because you are now required to be partners with his favorite student- which is by far one of the worst rules they have ever come up with. Really, why would you ever want to have to spend more time with that slimy ferret?"

Because he holds all the answers to my questions? She shrugged instead of saying that. "Who knows Ron; the rule was probably established long before they ever figured out who the Head students would be. The rule is tolerable, you don't have to always ask about it. Malfoy hasn't been horrid to me."

"That's only because he is worried about his place as Head boy," Ron muttered.

She frowned at his insistence that Malfoy was pure evil- solely there to cause her issues. "He isn't that bad Ronald; lay off a bit."

Say we're never far from comfortable this time

Both boys were gawking at her due to that comment. "Are you feeling alright Hermione?" Harry asked, leaning forwards to feel if she had a temperature but she swatted his hand away. He held them up as a sign of peace instead. "It's just odd to hear you defending Malfoy, that is all."

She turned up her nose, tired of listening to them. Standing, she grabbed her things. "It may come as a surprise to both of you, but people can change." And with that she stood and stormed away, leaving two very confused boys in her wake.

Cold

Hermione had stopped by the library on her way up to her rooms to drop off a few books before she went up to her rooms. This put her a few minutes behind the scheduled time, but considering that Malfoy had left the Great Hall after her she assumed that he would be arriving roughly the same time she did.

Rounding a corner, she crashed into Professor Snape. She hadn't been walking fast, but he appeared to be in a hurry, and the force of their collision sent her sprawling on the ground, items flying everywhere.

"Miss Granger," he said when he realized who it was. The girl was just beginning to get up, but she was able to tell that his voice was quite tight and strained. She didn't look up at him as she rolled her eyes and collected her things, nor did he extend his hand to aid her as she stood.

She gave him a short nod, trying to be polite so she could avoid any confrontation with her professor. She recalled Draco's hatred for the man before her, as well as whom he had once been in her past life. It was probably for the best that she did not remain there too long. The solitude between them was evident to her and it made her skin crawl, images of Alabaster flashing across her vision. That would simply never do.

Without replying, she walked past him, but his voice stopped her only a few steps away. "Miss Granger," the man drawled, and her shoulders stiffened at the sound of his voice. Great, what could he possibly want?

She shoved a sigh down her throat, and turned around to face the potions master, another image of Alabaster flashing across her vision. This was going to be a long talk. "Yes?"

"Why aren't you with those friends of yours," he asked, an eyebrow shooting up. She frowned, wondering how that was any of his business.

"I needed some time to myself," she said, shrugging as though this conversation really wasn't uncomfortable at all, "I was just going to my rooms to study." Or to speak with Malfoy, whichever answer gets you to leave me alone.

"I see," the man replies, nodding, "Well do be careful on your walk up Miss Granger; the war may be gone, but there are still people lurking in these halls who may still wish to do you harm." His eyes ran over her once, and it was beneath that uncomfortable stare that she decided it was time to go.

"I have always been able to take care of myself," she replied curtly, not bothering to try and keep her tone pleasant anymore; he was out of line. Turning on her heel, she left him standing there the same way she had left her friends, with her nose turned up and irritation coursing through her body.

His gaze followed her until she was around the corner.

Now we're so cold

"You have no reason to be here," he snapped, and the blond just rolled his eyes.

"I've already told you Weasel; I have head duties to attend to with Granger, so if you would kindly stop spitting in my face."

"I will not!"

That was the scene Hermione found herself facing as she rounded the corner to get to her common room. There stood Malfoy and Ron amidst yet another argument. This was obviously dealt with the blond standing outside her door, just like Ron was; happy day- another issue to deal with before she could sit down and really deal with what she wanted to get to.

Draco saw her first, inclining an eyebrow to her as he wiped the non-existent liquid from his face. "Learn to speak clearly Weasel, not to spit on the person you are speaking with. It's a wonder you have had a girlfriend at all."

"I only do this for you Malfoy," he replied in a fake-sweet tone, completely oblivious to Hermione's arrival.

"Couldn't you two have found a better place to argue," she asked, coming up beside them. Ron was startled by her sudden appearance, but Draco merely smirked like usual. The Gryffindor Princess did look quite irritated by the situation, but he could not deny that she looked cute when irritated.

"Hermione, what is he doing here," Ron asked, inclining his head in the Slytherin's direction. The blond could only roll his eyes in response, and didn't bother saying anything on his own behalf.

She recalled what he had said a moment before. "Like he said Ronald, we have head duties to discuss, and although you might want me to come to the Gryffindor common room like earlier I am still inclined to do other things- it comes with my title."

Ron reached over and grabbed her arm, pulling them away from the blond a bit. "Can't you get out of doing this for just tonight? Aside from the Hogsmeade trip, we haven't really gotten to see you outside of class in ages. You're always… busy."

She sighed, knowing he was right. "I know Ron, but like I said, I have duties I have to follow through with." Quickly, the ginger's face fell, and she had to tell herself to keep going. She felt horrible for lying to him, but figuring everything out was pretty important right now. "I promise, during our free class tomorrow I will be around; I'll come up to Gryffindor common room with all of you."

The boy didn't look convinced. The sullen expression still remained on his face, and she knew he was disappointed that she wasn't going to ditch Malfoy in order to be with them. "If you say so. But why can't we come up here? You hardly ever offer."

It was true; since receiving her private dorm, she had rarely brought her friends up. There was no real reason for this; she just always felt better going to the Gryffindor common room instead. The people that were there were her friends as well, friends that she did not get to see much of. Slowly, she nodded. "You can bring Harry and Ginny up here if you like."

He nodded, but the look remained. "Alright, I'll bring them up here with me tomorrow around noon, during the free period. I'm not sure if Ginny can come or not, however."

That was what she had figured. "Bring her if she can come." He nodded, put off, and left without a goodbye. She sighed as he walked out of sight.

"Problems with your friends," the blond called, and she whipped her head back around to face him. Her eyes narrowed.

"You think," she snapped, walking back to her door. She was quick to mutter the password so they could enter together, the blond hot on her heels. He glanced back to make sure that the ginger was no longer there; he wasn't.

And you're not mine

She was quick to walk to her room, throwing everything down on her bed. When she turned back she had not expected the blond to follow her, and squeaked in surprise. It was a pathetic sound; one that made her blush and he smile. She glared at him for it. Prick.

"How long were you talking to Ron?" she asked, putting a step or two between them. Being pressed against the blond's masculine body was never something she intended to have happen.

He shrugged. "Not long; he came up the stairs just a few minutes after I did and thought I was creeping around your dorm." He rolled his eyes. "It didn't take long to begin yelling after that. And why were you late anyway? I knocked but no one answered. I was actually beginning to wonder if something was wrong."

She expected as much. "Nothing was wrong; I dropped some books off at the library and ran into Snape on the way up here, nothing big."

Draco's expression froze at her comment. "Snape? You ran into Snape?"

"Yes," she said, raising an eyebrow. "Nothing happened, he just warned me to be careful."

"Why," he asked, and she could see him tensing. It was odd to see Draco Malfoy getting worked up over her safety, and she was going to have to get used to it.

She shrugged, taking off her cloak to reveal the muggle clothing beneath; she figured he would make too much out of Snape's comment. "He said to be careful, because some people might want to still kill me even though the war is over."

He went rod straight. "What? Snape said this?"

"Yes, and before we start making false connections you yourself told me that few people remember their pasts! He doesn't mean anything personal by it."

The blond didn't look convinced. "He has also been acting strange lately."

"Malfoy, I'm the one that is supposed to be jumping to conclusions; I'm the one that doesn't understand anything. Aren't you supposed to be the collected one then? Calm down and stop assuming that he is out to hurt me just because one past life had bad intentions." She paused, processing what she had just said before she sat down heavily on her bed. "Merlin, listen to me! I sound like a bloody loon over here, going on about 'lives' like I actually understand what you have been telling me." She threw her hands up. "See what happens when you start panicking over these matters? I do too, so you have to remain in control of your bloody thoughts!"

He waited for her to finish her rant. She had a logical point that he should be able to deal with these thoughts better than she could, but ever since the war ended he had been getting a strange vibe from his godfather. It was like something had severely changed, but he didn't know exactly how to explain it. Snape seemed to be paying Granger more attention than ever before and now he had really begun to see it. From his constant stares in the classroom to having to tell the girl to put a jumper on and hide herself, Draco had seen the change. But to what extent did these changes reach? Were the same thoughts that had once been embedded in the depths of Alabaster's mind now implanted into Severus's as well? But, how would that be possible? The man had not been killed.

Now how would he explain this to her? Slowly, he took a breath. "Granger, I am collected. I am only trying to make sure that I can see everything clearly. Right now I want to know what the meaning of that statement was."

She waved her hand at him, rubbing her temples. "Never mind the statement, it's really not important." It seemed that she too had used the brief pause in their conversation to collect her scattered emotions. "We aren't here to talk about this; we are here so that you can explain more to me about everything. There is still so much that I don't understand."

He stood beside her, watching her closely. "Don't stress so much Granger; it does little for you. I will worry about Snape, alright?"

The girl peered up at him. "I wasn't worried to begin with."

"Perhaps," he relented, rolling his eyes, "But you did invite me back up here to talk, so that's what we will do. Do you prefer to speak in here, or perhaps you prefer the living room?"

As though finally realizing where they were sitting, she blushed. Standing and smoothing down her shirt, she nodded to him. "The living room, certainly. There is no reason to make things anymore awkward."

Although he agreed, he couldn't quite fight down his disappointment. He liked talking to her in that room, not because of what usually happened between a man and woman in this sort of domain behind closed doors, but because this room held more of her character. Many personal items littered the space that could tell you far more about her than the stereotype "bookworm", but he did not currently have the time to observe anything. Instead, he had to leave, because having him in her room made her uncomfortable, and that was not something he wanted.

He would wait as long as it took for her to accept him, the only problem was that he had begun to worry that she never would, at least not in the way he wanted her to. It would be heartbreaking to know she knew everything, knew their pasts and how they had become who they were today, and still did not want him. He was not entirely sure he could live through that.

Part 2: Sick, 1748 (Life Four)

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

He was ashamed, that was all he could say. He was ashamed of how he kept treating his wife. After using her in bed only days before, he had been neglectful when she became sick the previous few days. The only people around who assisted her at all were the maids, and that was awful. He was mistreating her when she really needed him, yet he could not force himself to go to her.

That was how he ended up standing in the wind that chilly November, hair a mess around his head. At least out here the land remained peaceful for the moment, and that was something he treasured. He knew war had just ended in the muggle world, a war that Britain fought in, but it did not cross magical boundaries, and he found himself still able to wander the land without fear; those muggle weapons of war were truly terrifying, although he was unsure whether or not they could stand against a yielded wand. Standing there in the outdoors, wind sweeping his hair around, he found a tranquil peace. He knew it would only last a few moments, for he still had many things to attend to before night took over the land, but for this brief pause of time he was going to savor it.

He had no idea yet the burden the next year would bring upon him. Memories were not yet an issue, and yet he felt that he couldn't take life. He had stopped loving his wife days after their marriage, but could not place why.

No, that was a lie in itself. He loved her, but not the way he should- not the way a husband should love his wife; this was the way one loved a friend, and perhaps that was what sent him rushing away from her side this morning to the outdoors. He had needed peace of mind for a moment, and he still did not understand what it was like to have a truly troubled mind. However would he survive when life really did start meaning something to him, when he could understand what it was like to have loved and lost?

"Lord Malfoy," someone called, drawing his attention. It was not the voice of his wife, nor the servants of his Manor. Glancing up, he caught sight of a familiar woman trotting towards him, her towering dress weighing her down. This was a woman he had recently spoken with inside a local restaurant.

"Lady Rivkah," he replied when the woman was close. He dared not speak her last name, for he knew there was a growing rift in her family, and it was undecided among society whether or not to speak her given father's name, or her mother's maiden name, the woman who had been attempting to escape a madman. From the rumors Damian heard from his sister- Willow- the man had tried to kill his wife and six children. The eldest son, Gabriel who was only twenty three, had stopped him indefinitely. Whatever happened from there was being kept quiet within the walls of the home. He took the girl's hand when she was finally at his side, kissing it politely. This was the girl that had plagued his thoughts since their short encounter. "How are thou?"

She hesitated in her answer for only a single moment. "There have been but better times," she replied, knowing that the news of the events within her home had spread quickly around town. There was no use denying the truth, although her brothers Gabriel and Achille attempted to do just that. She thought it would only cause more of a stir. "Thou are well? What are thou doing out here in the wind, when thee could be inside? Thou have a wife, yes?"

His jaw clenched at the mention of Gemma, who was currently inside sick while he spoke with this girl like an enlightened schoolboy. Then again, he was still the age of a schoolboy. "Yes, she is feeling under the weather, and I chose to give her space for a moment." That was a lie, but it was far better than the truth.

Rivkah smiled a dazzling smile that shone brightly in the sunlight that day. Behind her, he could see two male figures that he quickly identified; her fiancé, Dennis, and brother Achille had been accompanying her someplace. He wondered how she slipped away from her future husband like that, when so many wizards kept a tight hold on their woman once they had them. He noted how stiff their postures seemed, and decided it was probably best if he did not linger. This gathering did not seem appreciated. "Perhaps I shall get back to her though, for I should not leave her alone long."

The girl, obviously disappointed that their conversation was going to end so quickly, nodded. She had to understand, for soon enough she would have a husband of her own like this man, who would also be expected to return quickly when he went out for a breath. "Very well; I shall send thy mother an owl, I have forgotten since we spoke last. Perhaps we shall meet again, over tea this time."

He liked that idea, he really did, he was just unsure if it would be a wise decision to attend or not. "Perhaps we shall." Nodding his head to her this time instead of kissing her hand since he now knew who had come along with her today, he was quick to make his leave. It was rude, and she did appear a bit put off, but he could not dally anymore.

Something about her made his heart want to jump from his chest; for reasons he could not fathom, he was quite attracted to this strange girl.

Part 3: Don't Wander in the Dark, 1999 (Life Six)

Draco Abraxas Malfoy and Hermione Jean Granger

Hermione did not understand a whole lot more when they finished speaking that night than she did when they began speaking. Reincarnation apparently meant being one's own grand-something, which just made her head hurt. She told him to stop speaking after only a few minutes, for fear that her headache would never go away otherwise.

They now sat in silence on her couch again, and Hermione could feel the exhaustion slowly eating at her body. She still had quite a bit of homework to do, and knew it would not be finished until this conversation was over. Still though, despite the headache and confusion, she wanted more. She just wanted to understand the things around her, and the things she had once lived through.

When he spoke again, it was not what she had been expecting to hear. "Sleep Granger; you're practically out as it is."

Her head whipped around to stare at him. "I am fine, thank you, and I have plenty of things to finish first, before I even think about sleeping."

"Like?" the blond asked, tilting his head. She frowned, wondering why he had to suddenly be so very curious about her life.

"Homework for example," she said, glancing back at her room. That heavy bag still sat in there.

"Do you have a lot?" he asked, although he already knew the answer. He had done his earlier that day during lunch and part of his free period, having known that this conversation could take quite a bit of time. He didn't expect it to go the way it had, but his prediction seemed correct.

"You know how much I have; we had nearly all our classes together today."

Draco nodded. "Perhaps you should go do some of it."

She raised an eyebrow, looking at him oddly. "If you have forgotten Malfoy, we are still in the middle of a conversation, and it's quite rude to disappear during a conversation simply to do some work."

He shrugged indifferently, hardly caring at all. He wanted to spend as much time with her as he could. "It hardly makes a difference to me Granger. Go work, think up some more ridiculous double-sided questions for me to answer, and I will take up the responsibility of raiding your fridge for some food."

That entire idea seemed ridiculous to Hermione as she listened, but it was tempting. Get some work done, figure out more questions, and have a few minutes away from Malfoy's form, which had been doing odd things to her for a while now. Yes, this idea sounded quite good, and for once she decided to simply not argue. "I suppose that could work," she replied, getting up. She smiled at him as she walked towards her room, "There's plenty of food in the fridge, although none of it is made, so I do hope you know how to prepare food yourself Malfoy," she joked, before entering her room entirely.

He rolled his eyes. Did she think he was completely incapable? He had five lifetimes of experience to look back on; he could draw answers from something. He knew how to make a sandwich and some soup at the very least. Hopefully she had one of those.

I guess we will find out. Standing, he wandered to the small kitchen, a goal now in the back of his head on what kind of sandwich he wanted.

Say we're never far from obvious this time

Cold

"Granger," he called from the living room, irritated. Did it really have to take her forty minutes? He sighed, having finished his sandwich over thirty minutes ago. "Granger," he continued, standing up, "I hope your questions are quite detailed this time if it has taken you this long to come up with them." He walked into her room, the door still being open so that they could talk, although that had never really happened, and now he saw why. The girl was passed out at her desk, parchment beneath her face; quill in hand, a spilt bottle of ink at her side. He clicked his tongue, unable to call the image anything but cute, and that word coming from Draco Malfoy was a wonder in itself.

He cleaned the ink up quickly, before plucking the quill from her hand. He was tempted to wake her and show her just what she had done, but thought better of it. She looked so content, sitting there asleep, that he didn't quite have the heart. Instead, he shoved the chair back a bit and picked her slim form up, moving her over just a bit to rest contently in her bed, moving the covers to engulf her form. There, that was better.

The blond smiled lightly. He loved watching her sleep- she just looked so peaceful. A thought crossed his mind, and deciding to throw caution to the wind like he had done once before, he bent forwards and pressed a kiss to the side of her head.

"Sleep well Granger," he breathed, before pulling back. He left her room quickly, afraid that she would wake. When the door clicked softly shut behind him, he studied her common room. It appeared that the Head Girl was having a hard time keeping clean, and her room was proof of it. Books lay all over the place.

Lending a hand is never bad. The thought was random, and had no value at all to the situation, but he convinced himself that this was alright. He was just helping, right? Being a nice, very old boyfriend.

Well, boyfriend wasn't the correct term for what he had been to Penelope. That had not existed. He did not quite know what to call that relationship.

When everything was in place, he nodded contently. Now her common room was perfectly clean, but he was exhausted. It hadn't been a lot of work, but it was indeed late. Looking at the clock a dangerous thought crossed his mind.

Wake up early; you can rest on her couch for a few hours.

Now he was really testing his limits, but the option was just too good. Sitting back down on the couch, he hoped that he woke early in the morning, else she would kill him. But hey, he liked sleeping close to her.

And this was as close as he was able to get.

A sharp hit to his head woke him in the morning. "Malfoy, hide," Hermione hissed, who was currently finishing putting on a shirt, the material sliding over the slim torso quickly.

He looked around groggily, confused for a moment. What was going on? Oh yes, he had decided to sleep on the Gryffindor's couch. But why was she running around like that?

He was about to ask what was wrong with her, when he got his answer. "Hermione, hurry up! We are going to be late to breakfast! And Ginny wants to come in, she wants to borrow something. Are you even listening?"