A New Understanding
The days following her heart-to-heart with Lucian were filled with a strange, unfamiliar warmth that Hermione couldn’t quite place. The tension that had once tangled itself around her heart every time she walked past his portrait was still there, but it had softened, replaced by something gentler. She felt lighter now, as if the weight she had been carrying since the war had finally begun to lift.
For the first time in what felt like ages, Hermione allowed herself to acknowledge the growing feelings she had for Lucian—not just a curiosity, but something deeper, more complicated. She hadn’t expected to feel this way about anyone, let alone a portrait, but here she was, visiting him daily, drawn to him as if he were a living, breathing person. And in many ways, he was.
It was late evening when Hermione found herself once again walking the quiet corridors of Hogwarts, her steps instinctively leading her to Lucian’s portrait. The castle was settling into the evening’s hush, the students in their common rooms, the professors retiring to their quarters. She hadn’t planned to see him again tonight, but there was an undeniable pull, a yearning she no longer tried to deny.
When she arrived, Lucian was already waiting for her, standing in his portrait’s painted backdrop. He was dressed in his usual dark robes, his platinum hair catching the torchlight in a way that made it shimmer. His eyes softened when they met hers, and she felt that now-familiar flutter in her chest.
“You’re back,” Lucian said, his voice carrying a warmth that hadn’t been there in their earlier conversations. “I wasn’t sure if you would be.”
Hermione smiled, though it was a small, tentative smile, as she stepped closer to the frame. “I wasn’t sure either,” she admitted. “But… here I am.”
Lucian studied her for a moment, his gaze lingering as if he were committing every detail of her to memory. There was something different in the way he looked at her now—something that made her feel seen in a way she hadn’t felt in years. She wasn’t just the war heroine or the brilliant professor in his eyes. She was simply Hermione, and that, more than anything, was what drew her back to him.
“I missed our conversations,” he said quietly, his voice holding an edge of vulnerability that surprised her.
Hermione’s heart skipped a beat. “I did too,” she confessed, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve been thinking about you a lot.”
There. The words hung in the air between them, unspoken until now, but so full of meaning. Hermione felt her cheeks warm, her fingers instinctively brushing against the stone wall beside her as if she needed something to hold onto, to ground her.
Lucian’s expression softened further, his usual teasing smirk absent. “I think about you too, Hermione. More than I should.”
For a long moment, they simply looked at each other, the silence between them intimate, charged with emotions neither of them could fully articulate. Hermione felt her heart beating faster, her thoughts swirling with the realization that, despite everything—despite the fact that Lucian was merely a portrait—she was falling for him. It terrified her, but at the same time, it felt inevitable.
“I don’t know how to handle this,” Hermione said after a pause, her voice breaking the silence. “This—whatever this is between us. It’s… complicated.”
Lucian’s gaze didn’t waver, his voice calm but full of understanding. “I know it is. But you don’t have to handle it alone. I’m here.”
The simplicity of his words struck her deeply. He was here, always here, waiting for her in the same place, in the same portrait. But despite being bound to the canvas, Lucian felt more present than anyone else in her life at the moment. She hadn’t realized just how much she looked forward to seeing him, how much comfort she found in their conversations, until now.
Hermione took a deep breath, her fingers brushing over the edge of his portrait’s frame. “I keep telling myself that this isn’t real, that you’re… you’re just a portrait, and yet…” She hesitated, searching for the right words. “Yet, I feel something. And I don’t know how to ignore that.”
Lucian’s expression softened with something akin to sympathy, though there was a glint of hope in his eyes. “Maybe you don’t have to ignore it,” he said gently. “Maybe we don’t have to define it or make sense of it right now. We can just… let it be.”
Hermione’s eyes flickered with uncertainty, but also with relief. Lucian’s words made sense, even if her heart still wrestled with the impossibility of their situation. “But how?” she asked, her voice quiet but full of longing. “How can I feel this way about someone who isn’t… who isn’t here?”
Lucian’s lips curved into a small, understanding smile. “I’m here, Hermione,” he said softly. “Maybe not in the way you wish I were, but I am here. And so are you.”
The truth of his words settled deep within her, comforting in a way she hadn’t expected. He was here, as much as anyone could be in her life. And though it was strange and complicated and filled with uncertainty, it was real, in its own way.
For the first time, Hermione allowed herself to accept that. She allowed herself to accept that she looked forward to their conversations, that she enjoyed the way his gaze lingered on her, the way his voice softened when they spoke late into the night. She allowed herself to accept that Lucian Malfoy—whether a memory or a portrait—had become something more to her than she had ever anticipated.
“I want to keep seeing you,” she said, the words spilling out before she could stop them. “I know it doesn’t make sense, but… I do.”
Lucian’s smile widened just a fraction, but it was enough to make Hermione’s heart flutter. “I want that too.”
And with that simple, unspoken agreement, their bond grew stronger. Neither of them knew what the future held—if there even was a future for something as impossible as this—but for now, that didn’t matter. What mattered was the way they felt when they were together, the comfort they found in each other’s presence, and the connection that was undeniably real, even if the world around them couldn’t understand it.
For the first time in a long while, Hermione felt a glimmer of peace.