I found this in my writing folder the other day and figured I'd post it. Not my best writing, but eh. Short and sweet! The song is "Lie To Me" by Greg Laswell.

Enjoy, hopefully.

As usual, I own absolutely nothing. I just do horrid things to JK's characters.

Go ahead and lie to me,
I'll believe in anything you say tonight.
Go ahead and lie to me.
Write 'I love you' while I sleep,
and hide it for another day to find

The day Hermione remembered Draco Malfoy was the day her heart broke all over again.

She'd awoken in the middle of the night, sweating, her hands clasping the sheets of her bed. Scrambling, she'd shot from the bedroom, breathing heavily, only to be stopped by a sleepy Ginny as the girl emerged from her own bedroom. Her red hair had still been perfect after a night's sleep, as opposed to Hermione's, which was a tangled mess on her head.

It was weird the things you noticed when your world was falling apart.

Hermione grasped the girl's arms, feeling panic run through her veins. Shakily, she passed Ginny the newspaper article she'd been looking at before she'd gone to bed. Ginny was used to these shows of panic. Hermione had been hit by a stray spell amidst the battle of Hogwarts, resulting in the loss of her memory…and life as she knew it.

Now, she stood before her best friend, shivering in her bed clothes, begging for answers.

Answers.

It was always about answers.

Who is this person? Why do I remember this?

Did this person die?

The Healer had said that the girl's memory would return to her in fragments, and should they try to rush the process, it would only complicate things.

Still, it had been two years. And she still didn't have all the answers.

Neither, it seemed, did Harry and Ginny, sometimes.

"This boy." Hermione pointed at the front page, at the moving figure of an impossibly handsome blonde wizard. "Draco Malfoy." The newspaper shook in Ginny's hands, and her eyes were filled with an emotion Hermione did not understand. Hermione cleared her suddenly dry throat and continued, "Who is he?"

Ginny frowned delicately. She looked tired – not just the sort of tired that lack of sleep brought, but the sort of tired that settled in your bones and made you ache. It was exhaustion. Exhaustion from pain.

"He fought in the battle of Hogwarts. For the other side."

Hermione raised her eyes to the girl in confusion. "Why haven't I heard of him before? This article says it's his – his memorial? What did he do? Did he found an organisation – what does memorial mean?" Frustration began to make its way through her. "I know this one! I know it! Memorial…it means…it means…"

Ginny's eyes looked unusually shiny. She hesitated, placing a hand on the girl's arm. "It means an anniversary. Of somebody's death."

Hermione shook so violently she could feel the panic rising up in her throat, choking her. Tears gathered behind her eyes, but they wouldn't fall, oh, God, they wouldn't fall, they just kept gathering until her head ached and her hands shook and she couldn't take it anymore and –

"He died two years ago, Hermione."

Hermione felt her heart thundering in her chest, and her cheeks were suddenly wet. She raised a hand to her face in shock, tasting bitter salt tears on her lips. Dead. Dead. Dead.

God, but her head ached.

"Hermione, are you okay?"

No. No. No, no, no -

She was walking, no, running, running towards something though she couldn't remember what. She just knew she had to run, run, run, damnit – and then there was the sound of screaming, screams that rang through her ears and echoed until she screamed herself, unable to take it, the pressure upon her, the great, unwavering screams –

"Hermione!"

She spun around, relief clouding her thoughts. "Draco!" she screamed, dashing forward. "Oh my God, I thought you were dead, I thought you were –"

But he wasn't looking at her; he was looking at something over her shoulder, eyes wide and horrified. Time seemed to freeze, from hours to minutes to seconds to mere milliseconds, till it merely stopped, time just stopped, but the screaming didn't, wouldn't, it wouldn't stop –

"He's dead?" Hermione heard herself whisper.

"Yes, 'Mione. He's been dead for a long time."

The joy the girl had felt at this piece of her past flickered and died, replaced by an overwhelming, crushing grief. Fingering the creased edge of the newspaper article, she whispered, "I think…I think I may have loved him once."

Ginny let out a muffled sob, and pulled her friend to her, holding onto her with dear life.

"Oh God, I'm sorry - you weren't supposed to - I should have - Oh, God."

Hermione's confusion only made it hurt that much more. The red-haired girl had never particularly liked Draco Malfoy, but since he had made her friend so happy…

She had felt Hermione's grief for her when Draco died.

"I'm sorry, 'Mione," she whispered.

Hermione's breath was coming out in choked gasps. "Why didn't you tell me?" she demanded suddenly, her face turning an unhealthy shade of crimson. "Why didn't you tell me? Did you think it was funny? Did you think it was-" She seemed to just give in, cave into herself. She cradled her head in her hands. "I – Oh, Draco. You absolute idiot."

"Hermione, get out the way!"

And then he was barreling towards her, jumping in front of her, shielding her. She felt terror grasp at her, choke her, but it wasn't terror for herself, no – it was for him. Just as quickly as he left the ground, he hit it, his head lulling back, an impossibly large slash through his chest. And, oh God, there was blood everywhere, on her clothes, her body, him, the ground – but worst of all, her hands – her hands were soaked in it –

Ginny hesitated again, unsure. She'd never seen Hermione like this before. She'd never seen anybody like this before, not even in all her years of dealing with the injured, ill, and broken. There was something in her eyes, something so painful it could have conquered anything, a huge, weighing sadness that was so strong Ginny feared it might crush them both. She slowly sat down next to the girl, resting a gentle hand on her knee. Hermione pulled back from her friend.

"There was always this, this thing," she whispered finally. "This empty space in my chest. This absence. Like I was waiting for something, but I didn't know what." She began to cry softly, her tears dripping through her fingers. "It was him. It was always him."

Ginny didn't try to comfort the girl, just sat next to her in silence. "He died nobly, if it means anything," she rasped. "A curse was going to hit you. I don't think he even thought about it. Didn't need to. Malfo—Draco just threw himself in the way."

Hermione smiled tearfully. "He always was such an idiot," she said softly. "Thinking he could take on anything."

Ginny smiled back, the gesture tinged with sadness.

His head tilted back and he stared at her, except she wasn't sure if he was actually seeing her, and that made it hurt so, so much more. "Tell her - Hermione - tell her I love her," he whispered, his voice dying as his eyes glided shut. "I love her so much."

And there, in her arms, covered in blood and grime, Draco Malfoy died.

"I loved him," Hermione cried gently, looking exhausted and…limp.

"I know." Ginny's voice broke. "I know, love."