The Breaking Point
Hermione hadn’t planned to go to the portrait tonight. After her sleepless nights, hours lost in ancient tomes, and the quiet devastation of knowing there was no magic strong enough to pull Lucian out of the frame, she had promised herself she would stay away. She had to distance herself from the impossible—there was no sense in breaking her heart any further. Yet, here she was, standing before Lucian’s portrait in the dimly lit corridor, her chest tight and her mind spinning with thoughts she had no way of controlling.
Lucian was already there, waiting, as if he sensed her coming before she even turned the corner. His figure stood illuminated by the faint glow of the torches, and as their eyes met, something within her cracked wide open.
“I didn’t think you’d come,” Lucian said softly, his voice a mixture of surprise and an emotion she couldn’t quite place. He looked at her with the same intensity that always made her knees weak, his gaze searching, as if trying to uncover the secrets she kept buried deep inside.
“I shouldn’t have,” Hermione whispered, her voice barely audible. Her fingers clenched at her sides as she stood frozen before him. She felt the weight of everything—her love, her grief, her utter helplessness. “I keep telling myself to stop coming back. That this…” She gestured between them, tears filling her eyes. “This isn’t real.”
Lucian’s face softened, but he said nothing. He simply watched her, the familiar sadness etched into his features. He had always been quiet when it came to her emotions, allowing her the space to unravel, but now, the silence felt suffocating.
Hermione took a deep breath, her heart pounding, and the words she had been holding back for so long slipped out before she could stop them. “I love you.”
The moment the words left her lips, she felt the ground shift beneath her, like she had crossed a line she could never uncross. Her body trembled with the weight of her confession, and she immediately wished she could take it back. But it was too late. It was all too late.
Lucian stared at her, his expression unreadable. For a moment, she feared he might reject her, might dismiss her feelings as irrational, as dangerous, even. But then, something flickered in his eyes—something raw and real.
“I love you too, Hermione.”
The words were so quiet, so fragile, that for a second, she wasn’t sure she’d heard them correctly. But the way Lucian looked at her, the way his voice trembled with emotion, left no doubt. He had said it. He had admitted it.
Hermione felt her breath catch in her throat, and for a moment, everything seemed to blur—her surroundings, her thoughts, her grief. It was only the two of them, bound together by the weight of their unspoken love.
But with the confession came the unbearable reality of it all.
“You… you love me?” Hermione’s voice shook with disbelief, her mind unable to fully grasp the truth of his words. She had imagined this moment a thousand times, had hoped and dreamed, but now that it had finally happened, it felt bittersweet. Because no matter how much he loved her, no matter how much she loved him, they were trapped in a situation neither could change.
Lucian nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving hers. “I always have,” he said softly. “Since our days at Hogwarts. You were… different. Strong, brilliant, unafraid to stand up for what was right. I admired you, even if I never had the courage to tell you.”
Hermione’s heart ached at his confession. She had spent so much time wondering what could have been if she had known Lucian then, if they had crossed paths more meaningfully when he was alive. But now, none of that mattered. He was gone, and all she had left was the portrait before her—a mere fragment of the man she had come to love.
“This isn’t fair,” Hermione whispered, her voice cracking as the weight of it all pressed down on her. “I love you, Lucian, but it’s impossible. You’re here, but not really here. And I… I can’t do this anymore.”
Her tears spilled over, and she pressed the heel of her palm to her eyes, trying to stop the sob that was building in her chest. She didn’t want to break down in front of him, didn’t want him to see just how much she was hurting. But it was too much. Everything was too much.
“Hermione.” Lucian’s voice was low, pained, and when she looked up, he was closer to the edge of the frame, his hands pressed against the canvas as if he was trying to reach for her, to comfort her in any way he could. “I know this isn’t fair. I know you deserve more than I can give. But I can’t—” His voice broke, and for the first time, Hermione saw the cracks in his calm, saw the raw emotion he had been hiding. “I can’t change what I am.”
The words were a knife to her heart. She had spent so long hoping for a solution, for some magic that could make everything better, but now, standing here, she knew there was none. Lucian was bound to that portrait, and she was alive. They were on opposite sides of an unbreakable barrier, no matter how much they loved each other.
“I hate this,” Hermione whispered, her voice trembling. “I hate that we can’t have more.”
Lucian’s gaze softened, and for a moment, the air between them was thick with unsaid words. He opened his mouth, as if to say something, but then closed it, his jaw tightening. He didn’t need to speak. Hermione could see it in his eyes—the same pain, the same longing that mirrored her own.
“I wish things were different,” he finally said, his voice breaking. “I wish I could hold you, be with you the way you deserve. But all I can give you are words, and that will never be enough.”
Hermione’s heart shattered at his words, and she pressed her hand to her chest, trying to contain the ache that was spreading through her. “I don’t want just words,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “I want you.”
Lucian’s eyes darkened with emotion, and for a long moment, neither of them spoke. The silence between them was suffocating, the weight of their love and their impossible situation pressing down on them both.
“I love you, Hermione,” Lucian finally said, his voice barely a whisper. “But we both know… this can never be.”
And with those words, the reality of their love came crashing down around them. It was real, but it was impossible. Complete, yet heartbreakingly doomed.
The confession that should have brought them together had only served to highlight how tragically apart they were.