AN: So I wrote this chapter really quickly today! It's a bit of a filler, but it's mainly some respite, some calm after the storm I suppose (because last chapter was 6,000 words of PURE STORM). I know the trial was the biggest plot driving force for the first 24 chapters but trust me when I say that their story is far from over.

Chapter Twenty Five- White Butterflies

March

"You're in an awfully good mood," said Ginny, plopping down at the table beside her.

Hermione glanced up from her essay, surprised. "How did you find me?"

The look on Ginny's face suggested that she shouldn't be so dense as to ask that, and her friend retrieved her own books from her bag. She didn't open them however, dropping them on the desk and using the pile to rest her arms and head on.

"When you're not sleeping, you're working," said Ginny, "and when you're working, you're usually at the library."

Hermione shot her a look, then rolled her eyes. "That's because it's usually quiet!"

Ginny grinned. She didn't reply, watching her friend duck her head and scratch her quill furiously across the page, pausing to dip it in the ink pot every now and then.

"I haven't asked," said Ginny suddenly.

Hermione glanced up at her. "Haven't asked what?"

"Why you wanted to help Malfoy," she said. Hermione stopped writing, word trailing unfinished on the parchment. "Why you roped Harry and Ron into helping him too. Why you cared about what happened to him at all, to be honest."

Hermione sighed and put her quill in her ink pot. "Ginny..."

"No," said Ginny. "Wait. I get why you didn't tell me, why Harry and Ron didn't tell me. To be honest, I'm still not sure what to think." She paused. "I guess I thought we were close. And I can't tell if I'm more hurt because it's Malfoy or because you didn't trust me enough to tell me what you were doing."

"It wasn't either of those things," said Hermione instantly. She sighed, and ran her fingers through her hair. "Ginny. I never planned this. I couldn't sleep one night so I went for a walk and I- I found him, sitting on the floor, the Ministry band around his ankle and I- Ginny, I'd never seen anyone look so broken. It felt wrong that the fighting could be over but the war was still going on-"

"Can't you see how unhealthy it is, Hermione?" asked Ginny, leaning forwards. "You're treating him like he's another mistreated House Elf. Focusing all your energy on fixing someone else, maybe something that can't be fixed, to take your mind off your own pain. I-"

She reached out and took Hermione's hand, a small frown pulling her eyebrows together. "It's okay to still feel scared. To still find it hard to sleep. To still wake up sometimes thinking you're back there," Ginny whispered. "Sometimes, I do too. But you don't have to- you don't have to give all of yourself into saving him. You need to keep some of yourself for saving you-"

"Ginny," said Hermione, shaking her head slightly. "You don't understand. He's my friend. I need him."

She added, more because she felt inclined to, "Besides, his trial is over. It's over now. He's safe."

"Hermione, if you think it's over, you're more oblivious than I thought."

Hermione frowned. But Ginny just stared at her, flicking between her eyes, searching her face. She must have found something, something Hermione hadn't meant to let slip, because understanding dawned in her eyes and she leaned back in her chair, letting the matter drop completely.

Hermione untangled their hands and checked her watch, jumping to her feet and shoving her books into her bag. She shot Ginny an apologetic look. "I have to go."

Her friend nodded. Then said, "Are you meeting him?"

Hermione paused. She glanced at her. "Yes."

"Can I come?"

She looked at her properly, swinging her bag onto her shoulder.

Ginny rolled her eyes and said, "I won't stay for long. I have Quidditch Practice. I just want to see what you see in him."

Hermione stared at her, then said, "Ok. Ok, sure."

The two girls walked through the castle, down the moving staircases.

"You know," said Ginny, breaking the quiet, "back before Christmas, when you were ill, Malfoy came up to me to ask where you were. Walked right up to the Gryffindor Table like he didn't give a damn and spouted out some bullshit about a Potions project or something.

"But I saw through him. He was jittery, panicked. I could tell something was up." She paused. "Thinking back now, I think he was worried about you.

"He thanked me," said Ginny after a moment. Then added, "I don't think he's ever thanked me for anything before."

Hermione stopped, taking hold of Ginny's elbow just before they reached the castle doors. "He's different," she said sincerely. "Or maybe he's not. Maybe he's just finally allowed to be himself."

Ginny didn't look convinced but she didn't comment and they carried on. March had arrived in a flurry of light; it was still cold out, but the air was crisp and fresh, holding its breath in anticipation for Spring. Sunlight spilled on the ground, and it was warm on their skin as they made their way across the grounds.

Hermione spotted him instantly. The sun near enough reflected off his golden hair, like a periscope, dancing in all the colours of the rainbow. He was wearing black slacks and a white shirt, buttoned low to his collarbone. There were still dark circles under his eyes, and his skin had a greyish tinge but his face was tipped up to the sunlight, eyes closed. A small smile played at Hermione's lips.

"That boy's broken, Hermione," said Ginny, arms folded across her chest. They'd both stopped walking, staring at him from the top of the hill. She spoke nonchalantly, as though the observation was simply that and nothing more. Hermione's throat felt tight and she shook her head.

"He's not broken," she replied.

Ginny's eyebrows raised and she switched her gaze from Draco to her friend incredulously. "Oh really?"

A white butterfly fluttered near Draco's head, and he looked up, indignant. It didn't seem to mind the fact that its presence was clearly unwanted, for it lingered nevertheless, fleetingly perching on his nose. He made a noise of protest, recoiling and his nose wrinkled. The butterfly flew away again. Hermione watched him.

"He's not broken," she repeated firmly and she had never been so sure of anything in her life.

They carried on down the grounds, and though Hermione was surprised that Ginny hadn't disappeared yet, she kept her face neutral.

"Afternoon," she greeted, once she got close enough, making sure to stand off to the side so she wouldn't block the sunlight. He deserved to bask in it a little while longer. Hermione reckoned she'd miss it too if she'd spent so long in the shadows.

Draco raised his eyebrows, tilting his head back to look at her. "Hello."

The smile spreading across his lips froze at the sight of Ginny. He scrambled to sit up straighter. "Weasley."

"Malfoy."

There was a terse silence. The breeze whispered amongst the grass, tickled the branches to make them creak.

"I'm, uh, glad to see you're not in prison," said Ginny after a while. Hermione coughed.

Draco's nose wrinkled and he laughed a little. Hermione felt her eyes widen. "Thanks, Weasley, me too."

Ginny nodded once, then looked at Hermione, then said, "I should probably get going. Quidditch Practise."

Draco nodded, and Hermione sent her friend a soft smile, reaching out and taking her hand. Ginny flushed pink, ducking her head and spinning quickly on her heel to make her way back up the hill.

"Well, that wasn't weird at all," said Draco freshly, as Hermione plopped down beside him on the grass. She hummed in agreement.

"She insisted on coming along," she said, before pausing and adding, "I think she was curious."

"About what? About me?"

"About why I consider you worth any of my time."

Draco frowned a little. "Ah," he said. "I find myself asking the same question."

Hermione didn't reply, instead pulling her bag onto her lap and digging her arm into it. "I have a present for you."

He stared at her. "You didn't have to-"

"I know," she said, then passed him a book. "But I figured you might be needing this."

Draco turned it over in his hands so he could see the cover. "'Hogwarts: A History.' Is this a joke?"

The imperceptible twitch of Hermione's lips gave her away. Draco laughed. The sound surprised her with how high and rich and lovely it was. She didn't think she'd ever heard him laugh like that.

He put it to the side and said, "Well, thank you. They did me a favour, really. I didn't have a clue what I wanted to do after exams. Now, I don't have the choice."

Hermione looked back at the castle. "I wouldn't mind staying here forever," she said. "I'm worried it will start to feel like home again just when I have to leave it."

"Then stay," said Draco. She looked at him.

"I always thought I'd work in the Ministry," she admitted. "But I've been thinking recently. I think it's more important to be here. Educating the next generation. Making sure every child has a choice." Hermione shrugged, laughing a little. "So maybe I will."

The smile was fresh and glowing on her face, and her eyes twinkled as she glanced at him. She nudged his shoulder. "I told you I'm difficult to get rid of."

Draco couldn't hide the smile from stretching across his lips. It was wiped off when another butterfly landed briefly on his nose.

"Damned bloody insect," he cursed, swatting it away from his face and glaring as it fluttered idly away.

Hermione laughed and Draco momentarily paused to look at her. "You know," she said, wrapping her arms around her legs, resting her chin on her knees. "My mum used to tell me that white butterflies were the souls of people we loved, coming back to check on us."

"Well now I feel bad for hitting it." His eyes dropped to the grass between them. "Do you believe it?"

"No," she laughed. "I think it's ridiculous. But I always see them when something's happened. It makes me feel like everything's going to be okay." Hermione paused. "That's a lot to put on a butterfly's shoulders, isn't it?"

"They do have very tiny wings."

Hermione tipped her head back and laughed. Draco could only stare at her. The sound rang like a bell, tinkling and vibrant, soaring over the lake. He tucked his arm around her shoulders, letting it hang there loosely. Her breath hitched and she shuffled a bit closer to him, her hand coming up to play with his fingers. Draco felt warm in the Springtime sun.

"Thank you," he said. Hermione shook her head, his name falling from her lips in an attempt to shush him. Draco squeezed her fingers, stopping her hand for a moment. "No. I need to say it. I- Granger, I couldn't have done any of it without you. Any of it. I'd be in a cell right now if it weren't for you."

She tried again. "Draco-"

"I'm indebted to you," he murmured. "Forever. For all eternity. Thank you."

Draco tilted his head to press a kiss to her cheek. Her skin was warm, soft. His lips lingered before he pulled away and looked back out at the lake. Hermione rested her head on his shoulder, playing with his fingers again.

The butterfly fluttered through the tree branches, skimming a million blades of grass, before soaring over the water, and up, into the sky. Draco didn't know whose soul it could be, but he thought Hermione was right. Everything felt like it would be alright.