It called out to him.
He was passing by Diagon Alley after picking up a bouquet of white daffodils for his wife as he did so every Friday after work.
But something stopped him in his tracks before he reached his apparation point. There, positioned by a window as if framing it was a piece of art.
It caught his attention, hypnotizing him, beckoning him to meet it.
With his feet moving of their own accord, he quietly entered the shop he recognized as an art store that Luna Lovegood owned. The shop was quaintly welcoming. Its collection is made out of odd pieces that should've looked out of place but truly belonged there. The warm lights accent each work with all its glory, with different paintings, jewelry, and heirlooms. Like books, it was something you could take a lot of time exploring. His wife would love this place.
The blonde Ravenclaw was busy showing a couple a textured painting of a house, explaining in great detail why the artist chose that particular canvass even the way the colors were mixed. It was her art, he figured, seeing two loops of Ls that looked like two broken 8s as its art signature.
Not wanting to disturb her as she made her sale, he made his way towards the piece that caught his attention in the first place.
It was a hyper-realistic marble sculpture of hands joined together. Positioned in a receiving form, the left hand sat on top of the right as if cradling something so fragile. The hands were cupping a pair of broken wings.
He leaned closer, it looked like they were just placed on top of it, especially with how some of the wings’ feathers were scattered across the palm. But upon closer observation though, he can see that it was meticulously and carefully sculpted.
Draco was in awe. Subtractive sculpting is considered the oldest and probably the most technically difficult method in sculpting as there is little room for mistakes. Compared to the additive method where you can plaster medium to mold it together, this one is more restrictive. The more mistakes, the less material you can work with.
“Hello, Draco.” Luna’s voice greeted him kindly. She had always been good-hearted to those that society deemed as outcasts after the war. If she had any resentment towards him after it all went down, she’d never made him feel like he wasn’t welcome anywhere. “Are you interested in that one?”
“No,” He paused and stared at the sculpture for a minute more. “I want it.” He looks at her intently. “What’s it called?”
“Fleeting,” Luna said, nodding. She was about to explain why it is named so, but Draco gave his own meaning, to which she smiled. “That’s how the artist described it too.”
Luna told him the story behind the work of art as she carefully wrapped the masterpiece in silk and secured it in a wooden box. She asked if he wanted to shrink it to carry home but when he refused, she charms it to make it lighter for him to carry instead.
“How much is it?” he asked, touching the top of the wooden box.
“The artist actually gave instructions to give it for free to whom I think understands it the way she intended it.”
Draco blinked, a bit confused but touched. “You think I do?”
She shook her head no and smiled. “I know you do. Say hi to your wife for me.” With that, she leaves him alone by the counter when another patron entered.
“Alright, you can open your eyes now,” he tells her, waving his hand and letting the room light up brighter than usual.
There in the nursery, sitting by the window was a vase of white daffodils. Beside it, on top of a round table is the marbled sculpture, perfectly illuminated by a light that Draco charmed above it.
He hears her gasp softly so he knows she spots it right away. He smiles as his witch slowly approaches it, passing by the cradle first, running her fingers over its upper rail as she does so. Finally stopping, she leans closer to admire the artwork, and Draco takes his time admiring his wife.
His beautiful wife, with curls cascading down her shoulder and back. Her face gentle, her eyes kind, her lips—heaven. She loved him unconditionally even when he was at his lowest. She loved him fiercely when the world was unkind. What would Draco not do for this woman?
She looks at him with a smile and glassy eyes. He joins her and takes her hand in his, kissing it gently.
“It’s called ‘Fleeting’, darling,” He starts, “the artist said it represents a-”
“Moment…” she cuts him off, touching the fingertips of the sculpture.
“Yes, a moment. Fragile and fleeting, no matter how much you want to cradle it safely.” He tells her and plants a kiss on her head.
The look in her eyes tells him she knew what he was gonna say. “I felt the same just by looking at it.” She says, then tugs him towards the cradle. “The artist lost their angel too, right?”
“Yes,” He sighs softly, staring at the empty crib. “She had her bouts of sadness and sculpting was her way of coping. But since it’s dedicated to her child, she wanted it to be special and well crafted. Actually, she lost the child when she was in her second trimester. Five months to be exact.”
“Like ours.” She mumbles softly, touching the tiny pillow meant for their son but never used.
“Yes, and she sculpted it for four months and thirteen days. Fulfilling the term she’s supposed to carry before giving birth.” He rubs her back as she exhaled slowly, shakily, trying her best not to cry.
“It’s beautiful, Draco. I can see the love she has for her angel. It resonates with me, with us. Because I think we would have done the same if we had her skill.” She smiles. “The details are intricate, and I can see that she probably would have observed and memorized her child as keen as this had she not lost the baby.” She moves back in front of the sculpture, touching the hand then covering the broken wings with her own.
Draco saw it as a bond. From a mother to another mother.
“But is it truly alright? For us to keep this?” His wife asks. “It’s truly alright with her?”
“Yes, Luna said the sculptor kept the artwork for a month before donating it to her store. She told her it was time to let go because...you know... it’s a fleeting moment you have to accept even if you don’t want to.” He pauses, lamenting the words Luna Lovegood told him earlier that night. “The sculptor hopes her piece finds a home.”
“It did. It does. With us.” She nods. “I hope our child becomes friends with hers on the other side.”
“Oh, Astoria…” he says and holds her close. Draco lets her cry. And then he cries with her.
Grief, he realized, once you acquire, you never lose. You learn to live with it. Losing a child does not mean you get to stop being parents. You have to keep on being one even though you don’t get to keep your child.
“Who’s the sculptor, Draco?” her green eyes meet his grey ones in anticipation, kissing his hand that she was holding.
He wipes her tears as well as his own before smiling sadly. “Hermione Granger.”