A New Beginning
The dawn of a new day broke over the familiar grounds of Hogwarts, casting a soft golden light over the castle’s towering spires. Hermione sat by the window in her chambers, watching as the first-year students, bright-eyed and eager, moved through the courtyard on their way to class. It was a scene she had grown accustomed to over the past months, but today, there was something different in the air—something that whispered of healing, even if the ache in her heart still lingered.
Lucian was gone. Truly gone this time. And though his portrait remained in the corridors of Hogwarts, Hermione had made a conscious effort to avoid it. The first few days after his final fading had been unbearable; every step through the castle had felt like walking through a fog, heavy with the weight of memories and love lost. But slowly, with time, she began to find her footing again.
Her decision to focus on her work as a professor had become her lifeline. Teaching Transfiguration allowed her to pour her energy into something tangible, something real. The joy of watching her students grasp difficult concepts, the sense of purpose she felt in shaping young minds—it was these things that kept her grounded in the wake of Lucian’s absence.
In class, she smiled more now, finding small moments of happiness in the progress her students made. Her lectures grew more animated, and she found herself immersed in the kind of intellectual challenges that once filled her with joy. Still, in the quiet moments—when the classroom emptied, and the halls grew silent—her thoughts inevitably drifted back to him.
She knew Lucian’s portrait still hung in its place, and though she no longer visited it, she often wondered if his image had returned, if he lingered silently, waiting for her. But each time the urge to see him rose within her, Hermione resisted. She couldn’t keep living in the past, couldn’t keep torturing herself with something that could never be.
Yet, no matter how hard she tried to move forward, the memory of his love, his words, and the way he had looked at her from the frame refused to leave her. Lucian had been right—they had both needed to let go. But letting go didn’t mean forgetting. And Hermione had no intention of forgetting him.
One evening, as she walked through the darkened halls after her last class, she found herself stopping near the corridor where his portrait hung. Her breath hitched as she saw the familiar frame from afar, the shadows casting long shapes across the walls. She stood there for a long moment, her heart pounding softly in her chest. The desire to go to him pulled at her, but this time, she stayed where she was.
Instead, she whispered quietly to the air, as if he might somehow hear her.
“I miss you.”
The words hung in the stillness, unanswered. And in that silence, Hermione smiled softly, accepting the absence, accepting the finality of it. She didn’t need to visit his portrait to feel him with her. His love, his sacrifice, the way they had come together in those fleeting moments—it all remained, carried with her wherever she went.
The pain of his loss was still there, but it had softened into something she could live with, a bittersweet memory that reminded her of the depth of their connection. And as much as it hurt, there was also comfort in knowing that he had loved her, even from afar, all those years ago. He had chosen to come back, to tell her to live her life fully—and she would honor that.
As she turned and made her way back to her chambers, Hermione felt a quiet resolve growing within her. This was her new beginning. The grief might still linger, but she was stronger now. She would build her life in Hogwarts, not in the shadow of Lucian’s memory, but in the light of her own path forward.
When she reached her room, she sat at her desk, quill in hand, and began drafting lesson plans for the upcoming weeks. The work, though small, filled her with a sense of purpose. Life would go on. Her students, her friends, her research—these were the things that would fill the void Lucian had left behind. She would live fully, just as he had asked.
Outside, the wind rustled through the trees, carrying with it the faintest whisper of hope. And as Hermione sat there, lost in her work, she allowed herself to smile. A part of her would always belong to Lucian, but she knew that she could—and would—continue on. The road ahead was still long, still fraught with unknowns, but she was ready to face it.
For the first time in months, the ache in her chest felt lighter.
It was time to heal. It was time to move forward.