Healing of the Heart
The days after Lucian’s disappearance stretched endlessly for Hermione. She isolated herself from the world, withdrawing deeper into her grief as the echo of his voice, his laugh, his presence lingered in her mind. The halls of Hogwarts, once a place of solace, now felt unbearably empty. The portrait where Lucian’s image had been painted stood lifeless, as though the magic that once brought him to life had never existed at all. It was as if a part of her had vanished along with him.
She avoided the Great Hall, the staff room, and even her classroom when she could. The absence of his voice, his teasing remarks, and the quiet, intense way he had looked at her were unbearable reminders of what she had lost. Even though Lucian had been nothing more than a painting, his presence had filled a void within her that now felt insurmountable.
Harry had noticed her absence. He and Ron had both expressed their concern during their last visit, but Hermione had waved it away with a strained smile, insisting she was simply tired from her workload. But Harry wasn’t easily fooled, and neither was Draco, who had been watching her with quiet suspicion.
One rainy evening, as the storm outside Hogwarts echoed her inner turmoil, Hermione sat alone in her chambers, staring blankly at a book that lay open on her desk. The words blurred before her, meaningless in the shadow of her grief. Her heart ached in a way that felt raw and endless.
A knock interrupted her thoughts. She considered ignoring it, but the person on the other side knocked again, more insistent this time. Sighing, she stood and opened the door, only to find Draco Malfoy standing there, his expression guarded but concerned.
"Draco," she said, her voice barely above a whisper, surprised to see him at her door. "What are you doing here?"
He looked at her for a long moment before speaking. “You’ve been avoiding everyone, Hermione. Even Potter’s worried.”
“I’m fine,” she replied automatically, though the hollowness in her voice betrayed her words.
Draco raised an eyebrow. “You’re not fine,” he said bluntly, stepping inside before she could protest. “And it’s about my brother, isn’t it?”
At the mention of Lucian, Hermione stiffened, her hand gripping the doorframe. She hadn’t spoken about Lucian to anyone, not even Harry. The thought of sharing her grief felt too personal, too painful.
“You knew,” Draco continued, his voice softer now. “You were spending time with him. I saw you, visiting his portrait almost every day.”
Hermione swallowed, her throat tight with unshed tears. “He’s gone,” she whispered. “Lucian... he faded from the portrait.”
Draco nodded, his eyes betraying a flicker of something she hadn’t seen before—vulnerability. “I figured as much when you stopped going to see him. It’s strange, isn’t it? To miss someone who’s already gone.”
Hermione looked away, blinking back tears. “It was more than that. Lucian... he wasn’t just a portrait. I... I loved him, Draco. And now he’s gone, and I don’t know how to... how to move on.”
For a moment, there was silence between them, the weight of her confession hanging in the air. Draco exhaled slowly, and when he spoke, his voice was quiet but firm.
“You’re not alone in that, Hermione,” he said. “Lucian—he wasn’t good at showing it, but he loved you, too. Even before the war.”
Hermione’s eyes widened, her breath catching in her throat. “What?”
Draco crossed the room and sat down in one of her chairs, his gaze distant, as if recalling old memories. “He told me once,” Draco said, his voice unusually soft. “Back when we were still in school. He admired you from afar, even though he kept it to himself. I didn’t understand it then, but he was always watching you, always intrigued by you.”
Tears welled in Hermione’s eyes as Draco’s words hit her like a wave. Lucian had loved her, even back then? Even when she hadn’t known he existed beyond being Draco’s twin, a mere shadow in the background of her Hogwarts life?
“He helped the Order,” Draco continued, his voice growing rough with emotion. “He risked everything, not just for our family, but for you. When you and Potter and Weasley were out there, fighting, he was quietly aiding you. He made sure you’d survive. And he never asked for anything in return.”
Hermione’s heart clenched at the realization that Lucian’s love for her had been woven into the very fabric of the war. His sacrifices, his quiet acts of defiance against the dark forces—they hadn’t just been for the greater good. They had been for her, because he had cared for her, even when she had been unaware of it.
“I didn’t know,” she whispered, her voice breaking as the tears spilled over. “I didn’t know how much he cared.”
Draco stood up, crossing the room until he was standing in front of her. His usual cool demeanor was softened by something that looked like understanding, and perhaps, even a hint of sympathy.
“He didn’t want you to know,” Draco said. “Lucian was always good at hiding his feelings. But he loved you, Hermione. I think, in a way, it’s what kept him tied to that portrait for as long as it did.”
Hermione’s tears came harder now, the grief and guilt of loving a man she could never truly have overwhelming her. She sank into a nearby chair, burying her face in her hands as sobs wracked her body.
Draco stood silently beside her, not saying anything for a long time. When he finally spoke again, his voice was low but filled with something that sounded like both resolve and empathy.
“You can’t keep punishing yourself for something that was out of your control,” he said gently. “Lucian wouldn’t want that. He wouldn’t want you to be stuck in this... limbo. He cared about you too much to see you hurting like this.”
Hermione looked up at him, her tear-streaked face etched with sorrow. “But how do I move on, Draco? How do I let go of him?”
Draco met her gaze, his grey eyes filled with a sincerity that she hadn’t expected. “You don’t have to forget him. But you have to live. That’s what he would want. You deserve to be happy, Hermione.”
For the first time in days, Hermione allowed herself to consider that possibility—that perhaps, despite the pain, there could be a way forward. She might never forget Lucian, but maybe, just maybe, she could find a way to heal.
Draco’s presence, though unexpected, had given her a sense of clarity. Lucian had loved her, in his quiet, unspoken way, and now it was up to her to honor that love by moving forward.
As Draco turned to leave, he paused at the door, glancing back at her. “If you ever need to talk... about Lucian, or anything else... I’ll be around.”
Hermione gave him a small, grateful nod, and as the door closed behind him, she felt something inside her shift. The path ahead would be difficult, but perhaps, with time and the help of her friends, she could find a way to carry Lucian’s memory with her without being consumed by it.
The healing process had begun, and though her heart still ached, Hermione knew that she wasn’t alone in her grief. Lucian’s love, and the memories they had shared, would remain with her forever.
But now, she had to learn how to live again.