Big thanks 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 One: The Lives We Lead, 1999 (Life Six)

Draco Abraxas Malfoy and Hermione Jean Granger

His long, slender fingers danced over the finely etched design on his goblet. The cold liquid inside shook slightly as he picked up the drink and brought it to his lips, wondering if it would ease his pain. It was a funny thing how being of age can allow you the luxury of slipping by idle rules like the drinks you have for dinner.

He knew it was against school policy to drink alcoholic beverages at any point inside the castle, but he wasn't worried about the detentions or punishments that would follow his actions anymore. He didn't ponder anymore about whether or not it was worth the consequences, because as his memories surfaced more and more every day, his heart grew colder.

She was sitting just across the hall, long honey hair tied back with a high ponytail that allowed her hair to just barely graze one shoulder blade as she talked among her friends.

He adverted his eyes. She wasn't his anymore, and he had no right to look on at her like such. He had made his mistake centuries ago, and he would forever pay for his fault. She did not even know of their time together, or once had been, and he could practically hate her for that. It was entirely unfair that she could not remember, because she never remembered.

He sighed and pushed blond fringe out of his eyes. The hair had grown long and aggravating, but it gave him more of a Malfoy air then he already had, and kept his own hair just long enough to skim the tops of his shoulders; it was no where near the length of his late father's.

Pansy Parkinson sits opposite him, speaking to Daphne Greengrass about whatever girly gossip had passed their ears throughout that day. Both were respectively lovely; Daphne with her startling blond hair- not quite as blond as his, but fairly close- and green eyes. Pansy, with her ebony locks and dark eyes that seemed to look straight through you. They were lovely; but not the kind of beauty he longed for.

Glancing back up again, he took another sip of his drink, having entirely ignored the meal. The day was drawing to a close again, and he could only imagine what trauma it would cause him once again. On that fateful night, the memories were always the strongest and most vivid reenactments in his dreams. It was that day every year that he truly feared approaching.

And she, despite having been the victim to it all, would pass through the night uninterrupted.

With his next sigh, his best mate finally looked over. The blond had been becoming more and more of a downer since he met him, but honestly, around this time every year he seemed to become impossible. The haunted look that attacked his eyes and made them dead was enough to spark anyone's curiosity. He had tried, four years ago when they were fourth years, to get him to open up about whatever had been bothering him since Hogwarts started for them first year, but he begrudgingly ignored every question. Yet, he had caught the object of his obsession that year, at the Yule Ball.

"You're staring again," Blaise commented, continuing to eat. Just because Malfoy refused to touch his food did not mean that he had to do the same. And the blond's behavior certainly did not affect the giant bloke beside him, eating hungrily.

Goyle could not eat with his mouth closed if the man's life depended on it. Gregory Goyle had been one of his body-guards in their earlier years of school, but was now simply one of the blond's dumber friends.

Draco glanced over at his friend, before returning his gaze back across the hall, thankful that no one had caught onto his friend's words. It seemed that only Zabini paid him enough mind these days to catch his stares.

"I always stare," he commented lightly, not even restraining himself as he spoke. It was fairly obvious to the Italian that he was captivated for one reason or another, but it remained a mystery to Blaise as to why exactly. He had expected the blond to go and talk to her the moment the war ended, since all he had ever done was look on at her with a longing expression, but he had blatantly refused, and his friend had yet to figure out why.

He kept his grey orbs trained on her as she ate, just like he always had. If she were to look over, he would sneer and hold that strong gaze of hers for a moment. It was the only time he could ever get her to really look at him, and he valued that above all else, even if it was hate shining in her eyes.

"Then why don't you talk to her," Zabini asked again, finishing off his meal. "If you can watch her every day for years, you can bloody talk to her."

"I've been talking to her for years," he commented, the emotion in his voice ever unchanging. "And every time I talk to her I say something snarky to her. Talking never does me any good."

The Italian sighed, and began to engage his housemate Theo in conversation, leaving Malfoy to stare across the hall uninterrupted at her.

Draco knew he shouldn't even be watching her, because it would make the pain in the night practically unbearable, but he had to. The oldest part of himself longed to always know that she was okay, even if she didn't care for him at all. She had not cared for him for centuries.

Over five, in fact. It happened in November...

He stopped thinking and clenched the goblet, his knuckles turning whiter in effort. He would not, under any circumstances, think about the day he lost her. History had been repeating itself since, just to torment his mind, and thinking on it in the Great Hall would do him no good. He could not simply go over there and rip her away from the exact same buffoons who had led to her death; their misinformed minds thinking it would all be alright.

Running his opposite hand through his hair, he continued to look on. She always grew to look the same, and that in itself was a punishment. He was at least granted the luxury of seeing her, but was it a luxury when he could never tell her anything truthful? Seeing the reflection of her face, on a new body centuries later always made his heart plummet. It was entirely unfair to him, to be put through this.

It was not his fault alone that she had died, so why did only he receive the immortal punishment? Why did only he have to remember the events that went down, when all others were able to die and forget that lifetime? It had been decided that he alone deserved the punishment, until he could right it, and Draco feared that day would never come. Until it did, he would have to sit idly by and watch her escape his grasp once again.

Weasley said something in her ear, and his heart pounded in his ears as both looked over at him curiously. He started back, expression completely blank, and looked on only at her face. She held the gaze, never wavering under his dark eyes. He inwardly smirked that her true character had never really diminished. She was practically the same women from the past.

Eventually, her friend Longbottom caught her attention and she reluctantly broke away to see what he wanted. Immediately, Draco missed the intense connection. The longer they held gazes, the more likely it was that her mind would catch some sign of reorganization. But they would never be friends, and unless he threw her into the wall and made her, he was certain she would never look at him long enough for it to work.

And he couldn't do that. It would make him no better than the monster he was the day she was taken away.

He downed the rest of his drink, wondering just how many more of those he would need tonight before the memory disappeared. At least, until he fell asleep and dreamed...

She smiled at Neville as he began to talk about some Herbology work he would be doing in his spare time. The boy truly wanted to take over from Professor Sprout when she retired, and the woman had agreed to hold a spot on the condition that he took the time to learn everything he could. It wasn't often that Hogwarts hired a teacher with no background after all.

But her mind was elsewhere, focused on the blond haired, grey-eyed boy who had been staring at her. It seemed that he had been giving her the same stare every year, and each time it blew her mind. Why would Mudblood-hating-Malfoy bother to look her way every year with no malice in his eyes? It made about as much sense as Ron's tactics in Wizard's Chest.

Yet he had always done it, with no explanation. She would not dare ask him about it, because she knew he would laugh at her for falling into his trap and make some ridiculous joke out of it, at her expense. It wasn't worth the question, and so she would not bother asking. It never hurt to have people noticing the Slytherin heartthrob staring in your direction, even if it is a stare full of unreadable expressions.

And anyways, she would never throw herself into something with Malfoy, heartthrob or not! He was a sneaky, mean little ferret that she had no more time to waste this year on. Being back for her eighth year after the war was something she could not be more thankful for. She had been worried that there would be nothing done to help students that wanted to retake lessons and graduate with NEWT's marks.

But the Ministry had pulled a surprising twist on all of Wizarding Britain that had been affected. She could remember the letter now:

Any student who is now of age and has not completed their last year of schooling, is required to take one of the following; A) Return to your school and take an immediate NEWT's test for your final scores, without the preparation, B) Return for half the year and then take your NEWT's, or C) Stay on as a full-time eighth year student and take the test at the end of the year as you would have done in your seventh year.

That had been her favorite part of the entire summer. The opportunity to go back and learn even more was something she could not pass up, and she had immediately signed on for a full year. Harry, Ron, Neville and Seamus had signed on for half-years, and Dean Thomas had taken the test already, not passing with the highest of marks. She was exceptionally disappointed that many of her friends had opted to only do a part of their schooling. At least she would still have Luna and Ginny around, who were required to go through with their seventh year. That would be her saving grace.

It was ironic to everyone else how her favorite thing about the summer had been the letter. She was involved with Ron in some sort of relationship, although neither really knew how serious it was. After the war, there was no need to immediately get together for them. Many wizards their age and older had gotten together almost immediately, and the chapels had been bursting at the seams that summer. Hermione herself had been to four weddings, including Dean Thomas and Hannah Abbot. She was not sure what Hannah planned to do about school.

Glancing back quickly at Malfoy, she noticed he was still staring. It made her skin want to crawl a bit. Why did he have to look at her like that? The intensity of his gaze was always overpowering, and although she would never look away voluntarily and give him the benefit of knowing she was intimidated - which she wasn't!

Malfoy was just a very sketchy character in her eyes. He may have escaped Azkaban because Harry spoke on his behalf, but he was still an issue in her eyes. How could anyone place their trust in him? He had nearly killed their late Headmaster, and had allowed Death Eater's into the school. There was nothing about Malfoy that gave the impression of a good character, and she would not be tolerating him this year if he spoke out like the spoiled brat he was. They were of age now, and she would hex him as such.

Hermione didn't even notice her friends getting up around her until Ron placed a hand on her shoulder, and she glanced up. Everyone had stood and was leaving, and she quickly grabbed her large schoolbag to rush out behind them. School had been in session for nearly a month, and already she was well ahead of everyone else. It was amazing how far behind some of her friends were, especially the ones that believed they would be fine to graduate in a few months time, and get on with their lives. She wanted to argue the point, but didn't think it would do much good.

Exiting the Great Hall she bumped into Draco Malfoy, who also seemed to be exiting the hall just then. She tripped and his arm instinctively reached out to grasp hers.

The jolt of electricity that followed was enough to startle her again, and she pulled free of his grasp, eyes narrowed. The piercing grey eyes were staring back at her, just as intensely as before.

"Sorry Granger," he spat, moving from in front of her to rush quickly back up to his friends, not even bothering to throw an insult her way.

She blinked, unsure why he seemed suddenly so desperate to get away from her. Ron's large hand had come down to grasp her own, and she barely registered it as the blond disappeared down the hall towards the Slytherin dungeons.

Why did she suddenly feel like she knew Malfoy a lot better then she really did? There was a familiarity in his touch that was unexpected, and set her nerves on edge. She did not know Malfoy well, and they were certainly not friends. She was certain he had never touched her, actually.

"You alright Hermione," the ginger behind her asked, glaring after the retreating forms of Malfoy and his friends.

She nodded, and turned back to smile at him. "Yes, just surprised Ferret didn't throw an insult in." He nodded, and held her hand as they proceeded down the hall up towards the Gryffindor common room, before Hermione attempted to locate her common room herself.

The feel of Malfoy's grip on her arm was still very fresh.

Part 2: Our Pasts, 1751 (Life Four)

Damian P`ere Malfoy (18) and Rivkah Tabitha Clayworth (21)

He watched her pass, the heavy weight in his chest back again. She was here- again- haunting him. She was always there, within sight but out of reach. And now she would be out of bounds, since her father, Marcus, had her married over two years ago.

He chewed on the inside of his cheek as the couple passed, his own wife staring down humbly at her feet, knowing his attractions still lay elsewhere. It wasn't fair to her, how he neglected her so, but he couldn't help it. If he ever touched her, all he could remember was her own husband doing the same things to her, and that was unacceptable. He couldn't stomach the thought.

Looking around, he noticed the woman in question was wandering around in her pretty dress with her husband, making idle talk to people at this gathering. Anthony Parkinson had decided to host a Ball celebrating his upcoming wedding, and everyone seemed to have gathered. His younger sister, Eloise Parkinson sat nearby with a blank expression, obviously wanting to dance. Perhaps he would offer, if he truly cared. His eyes were only on one woman, and she could never be his again. That was his punishment for allowing her to die, and then for taking his own life over two centuries before.

You must be thinking he is an immortal man, blessed with eternal life, but you would be wrong. He is just like us - he will live and then die. But, unlike all of us who will forget our pasts once we pass through Nevermore, he will not. His immortal punishment is to remember every single kiss he shared with the woman he planned to marry, and who was savagely taken from him.

Her dark chocolate hair was pulled into an uncomfortable bun, and he missed his version of the girl, his Penelope, whose hair had never been contained. But they were different people now, and they would not be allowed to be together.

So his mind would never be at peace.

His wife Gemma gently grasped his hand, and he looked up. "What troubles you Damian?"

He shook her off gently, shaking his head. "Nothing, I am just very tired." And in truth, he was.

Gemma- a pretty woman with ebony locks and a slightly pinched face- glared back at her husband. She could only pretend not to care about his emotional affair so many hours a day. Since the day they married, he had been detached.

And she knew exactly who the woman was; Mrs. Rivkah Clayworth. He had been watching her every day he could, and they only ever seemed to attend the parties she would be at. To say she was jealous, would be a lie. She could not be jealous because she did not love the man in front of her either; they just got along well enough for marriage. Their son, Cepheus, was about all that kept them together these days. It was nothing but a loveless marriage anymore.

So she watched him watch Mrs. Clayworth parade around with her dear husband, looking slightly unhappy. Gemma could only imagine why, but didn't put much thought in. Obviously, she was in this emotional affair too.

Several minutes passed, before the couple came to visit them. Dennis Clayworth was notorious for greeting everyone present at a gathering, even if it was not his own gathering. "Mr. Malfoy, Mrs. Malfoy," he said politely, shaking Damian's hand and kissing Gemma's. Their son, Cepheus, lay in her arms.

"Clayworth," Damian replied coldly, ignoring the disapproving stare his wife was giving him. "Mrs...Clayworth," he continued, remembering not to snap. She didn't remember anyways; so it would do no good.

The couples talked for a while, until Damian finally took his son and went out for some air, needing to get away. He couldn't look at her anymore, not on the arm of another man, again.

This was the fourth time their paths had crossed. The first, brought on that fateful day that started everything, and his punishment. The second was the hardest, to watch her completely hate him that first time, with no memory of the painful past they shared. The third time had torn him apart, but made him realize something; there was no going back. She would never be his again, and he had to accept that.

Even if it caused him so much pain.

A/n: New story! Like, hate, read too many times? Oh, and this story does base itself around the concept of reincarnation, and maybe gods, depending. So, if that's not your thing, then this probably isn't for you! And, if I continue, the chapters will get an awful lot longer! This is just the set up chapter :)

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