The Last Goodbye?
The familiar hallways of Hogwarts were cloaked in an eerie silence as Hermione made her way through them, her heart heavy with dread. Each step toward Lucian’s portrait felt like an unbearable weight dragging her down. She knew, deep inside, that something was wrong. The magic tethering Lucian to his portrait had been fading for days now, each conversation shorter than the last, each glance more fleeting. She had tried to prepare herself for this moment, but nothing could steel her against the pain of losing him.
When she reached the portrait, her worst fears were confirmed. Lucian was barely there—his once vivid, sharp features now blurred, flickering in and out as if he were fighting to remain. His form, usually so strong within the frame, was now almost translucent, his once familiar gaze struggling to stay focused on her.
“Lucian,” she whispered, her voice breaking as she stepped closer to the portrait. Her hand trembled as it brushed the edge of the frame, knowing she couldn’t touch him but wishing more than anything that she could.
He turned to her, a shadow of the man she had come to know and love. His smile was weak, and though his lips curved upward, his eyes were filled with sorrow. “I’m sorry, Hermione,” he murmured, his voice faint and distant, as if it were being carried away on the wind.
“No,” Hermione choked out, stepping closer, as if being nearer to him could somehow anchor him to this world. “Please, Lucian, don’t leave me. Not like this.”
He let out a soft sigh, his figure flickering again, struggling to hold itself together. “I don’t want to leave you, either,” he admitted, his tone laced with heartbreak. “But I can’t stay. The magic... it’s unraveling.”
Hermione’s chest tightened, her breath coming in short gasps as tears welled in her eyes. She had known this moment was coming, but it felt so impossibly unfair. After all they had shared, all they had fought against—why was fate so cruel as to tear them apart like this? She had come to love him, deeply, fully, and now he was slipping away, just as she had allowed herself to believe in the impossible.
“I love you,” she whispered, her voice trembling. It was the first time she had said the words aloud, and they felt like they carried the weight of her entire soul. “I’ve fallen in love with you, Lucian. I don’t care if it’s wrong or impossible. I just... I just need you to know.”
Lucian’s expression softened, his flickering form growing even fainter, but his eyes—those stormy grey eyes that had once been so full of life—were locked on hers, brimming with emotion. “I’ve loved you for so long,” he said, his voice barely more than a breath. “Even before I had the chance to truly know you... I always admired you from afar. And now, having had this time with you, it’s only made me love you more.”
Hermione’s tears spilled over, cascading down her cheeks as she reached out toward him, her hand trembling just inches from the portrait. “Don’t say goodbye,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “There has to be another way...”
Lucian’s figure flickered again, dangerously close to vanishing altogether. He shook his head, his gaze soft but resolute. “There’s no other way. I was never meant to stay, Hermione. I’m only a memory.”
“But you’re more than that to me!” she cried, her heart breaking with every word. “You’ve become everything to me, Lucian. Please...”
Lucian’s form wavered once more, his edges blurring, and Hermione felt the crushing weight of inevitability settle over her. “I wish things could be different,” he said softly, his voice almost lost in the emptiness of the hall. “But even if I fade, you have to remember—love doesn’t disappear. Not truly.”
She shook her head, her sobs now uncontrollable. “I can’t... I can’t do this without you.”
“Yes, you can,” he said, his tone full of quiet strength. “You’re stronger than you know. And you’ll carry me with you, always.”
Hermione’s fingers curled tightly around the edge of the frame, desperation clawing at her. “Don’t go,” she whispered again, the words filled with every ounce of pain and longing she felt. “Please, don’t go...”
For a moment, there was silence between them, the space between Hermione and the portrait heavy with everything unsaid. Then Lucian’s form flickered once more, his figure now so faint that she could barely make out his features. “I’ll always love you,” he whispered, his voice the faintest echo in the still air.
And with that, his image vanished.
The portrait stood empty before her, the once familiar face now gone, leaving only a void where Lucian had been. Hermione’s knees buckled, and she collapsed onto the cold stone floor, sobs racking her body as the weight of her loss hit her with full force.
He was gone.
The man who had become her solace, her strength, her love—he had been taken from her, just as cruelly as death had taken so many others. And though she had known this moment would come, it didn’t make the pain any less unbearable.
For a long time, she sat there, her hand still resting on the frame of the empty portrait, as if hoping that, by some miracle, he would reappear. But the silence that filled the hallway only confirmed the cruel truth—Lucian was gone, and there was nothing she could do to bring him back.
As the tears finally began to subside, Hermione took a shaky breath, her fingers trailing along the edge of the portrait. “I’ll never forget you,” she whispered, her voice hoarse from crying. “I’ll carry you with me... always.”
But as she stood and turned away from the portrait, the heavy emptiness inside her remained, a reminder of the love she had found—and lost—in a man who had lived only in memories and painted strokes.
And with that, she walked away, the echo of her footsteps a haunting reminder of the love that had been both her greatest joy and her most tragic heartbreak.