Nearly a half a year had come and gone in a blink of an eye for most. Most had spent time rebuilding their lives from the aftermath of the war, finding joys in being out from under an oppressive force for a decade. But Hermiome was not most. Six months crawled slowly for her. Each day she woke without him was agony.
Theodore, Daphne, Astoria and herself moved back into Malfoy manor after undergoing repairs. Hermione insisted that Theodore and Daphne take Draco's wing of the estate, as it was the largest and best suited for a couple. However, they refused, saying it belonged to her well before this point. Though she was offered a place to stay with Harry and Ginny, she had already made a home for herself at the manor. Leaving Astoria and Daphne during this time was out of the question, they needed each other. The loss of their brother was devastating. Daphne didn't speak for days, sitting quietly, not moving a muscle. They had to force Astoria to eat and drink, with Twinkle focusing on assisting her in any way possible. But by the time the Greengrass sisters were out of the small flat and back into the manor, they slowly returned to some sense of normalcy.
Hermione, full of grief and empty of much else, remained broken. She mourned alone in the large bed she once shared with Draco, not changing the sheets, scared to wash away his memory. For weeks, she wrapped herself in his cloaks, attempting to replicate his embrace until she realized that her own scent was replacing his. Horrified at that realization, she locked them away in the closet, sealing it shut.
She could nearly laugh thinking of how pathetic it was to grieve in the way she did, laying underneath the stars of the cheap projector he was so fond of. Many nights she spent staring at the constellation that shared his name until she fell asleep. Astoria would join on particularly hard nights for both of them, holding her tightly until they both drifted off into slumber.
The Greengrass sisters commissioned a portrait of Draco with several accompanying frames to hang throughout the manor so his image could move freely. A frame sat above the fireplace facing the bed, but Hermione wasn't ready to see him quiet yet, so it stayed a still scene of a green velvet armchair with a curtained window behind it. Occasionally, she would wake to see smoke above the candles in the frame, as if they had just been blown out. A sign that someone had been visiting her while she slept.
He would have hated to see her like this, she knew that, but she couldn't help but allow herself to be weak for the first time since she was a girl. Bawling until her eyes swelled and she couldn't think clearly. It was an act of kindness for Theodore to remove all of the liquor from the manor, saving Hermione from falling deeper into her sadness. But still, she found herself reaching for draughts of sleeping potions, hoping that when she woke, he wouldn't be the first thing to cross her mind.
Six months. She barely left the manor, let alone Draco's room. That's what she still called it, because calling it her own would make the reality of him being gone real. It was his still, because she had nothing left of him but the family and the trinkets he had given her. They didn't even have his body to bury. There was no closure, just an empty void in her stomach that would only be filled if he returned.
Six months. And she was so tired. Tired of crying and missing him. Tired of staring at the empty frame above the mantle. Tired of watching the stars float around the room. Tired of brushing her finger against the emerald on her ring and fiddling with her necklace. Tired of being in the manor that Draco wanted to leave behind.
So she finally left, going to the ruins of the farmhouse. With her wand, tools, and help from her friends, she began to rebuild. From the foundation up, she kept it the same, picking similar wallpapers and flooring, applying everything mostly by hand. It was tiring work, and by the time she laid in bed, she was fast asleep. Whether it was to distract her mind or to move on, it felt necessary for her to do.
Astoria and Daphne would add their little touches as well, putting in things they thought Draco might have liked. And with the rest of the money she had stowed away, she purchased a beautiful grand piano to place in the living room.
Another three months passed. As many months as she had been with Draco where she dedicated her time to the farmhouse and finishing up her schooling. She still spent many nights at Malfoy manor, but was slowly moving her belongings to the farmhouse. Pictures were placed on nearly every wall and shelf of the people Hermione loved. The Potters, the Weasleys, the Greengrasses, and several ones of Draco and herself that Daphne had taken on her camera.
The farmhouse began to look lived in. If someone were to enter through the vibrant blue door, they would have thought that she and Draco resided happily within the colorful walls.
Daphne couldn't help herself, commissioning a portrait of Draco for Hermione to hang at her new home, convinced it would help her heal. It sat covered above the mantle of the living room fireplace. Covered, until Hermione felt the house was presentable enough.
After pulling away the white fabric that obscured her view, it revealed to be a beautiful sitting area full of open windows and plants. The floors and walls were cream white marble and stone, with a large rug adorned with intricate golden details. There was a comfy brown armchair at the forefront, with a piano in the background. Astoria had told her it was a room in her childhood home, where Draco had much fonder memories.
At the first sight of him in the portrait, less than a minute after she pulled the fabric away, her chest tightened. He had emerged from the left hand side of the frame, obscuring the piano and standing by the armchair. The image of him was dressed in simple clothing, merely a white button up and black dress pants. It captured nearly every feature of the last she saw him, heartbreakingly beautiful. However, there was one distinct difference. His eyes.
They were a beautiful blue, as vibrant as they were when he was a boy. And they no longer seemed lost, there was a happiness that gleamed from them that made her breathless. In every facet of the word, despite it not really being him, it looked perfect. But the second he opened his mouth and uttered, "Hey baby," she ran out of the room sobbing.
The portrait of Draco stayed silent after that incident. Eventually, she finally built up the courage to be near it, so she made her way to the living room. With a book in hand, she started the fireplace, wrapping herself in a cozy robe, and began to read on the soft green couch that faced the piano. For several nights, they quietly read together. Sometimes, he'd play a soft melody on the piano that eased the awkwardness. Soon, her hands stopped shaking, and she began to feel comfort in seeing him out of the corner of her eye when she turned the pages.
"Still haven't spoken to him yet?" Astoria asked as they prepped dinner in the kitchen of the farmhouse. Twinkle accompanied them, but was mainly asked to sit and enjoy some tea while they prepared the food.
"No," Hermione sadly uttered. "I'm not as strong as you, Tori."
Hermione knew that Astoria spoke to all the portraits at Malfoy manor on a near daily basis and likely had conversations with the one in the next room over. It was cathartic for her to confide in them. But even after a year had passed, Hermione still wasn't over her grief.
"That doesn't mean you're not strong, pretty girl. Just means you need some more time. Have you considered seeing a mind healer? I can refer you to mine. She's lovely, helped me out a lot. Daphne too, especially now that she's all stressed because of school."
A mind healer would have been logical to see, Hermione knew that. But she was too preoccupied with distracting herself with other means to avoid facing the reality that Draco was gone. She watched as everyone else moved forward with their lives, living vicariously through their accomplishments.
Harry and Ginny dedicated themselves to rebuilding the Ministry, taking on roles of leadership to erase the damage done by Voldemort and bring hope to the wizarding world again. They were doing a damn good job. And with Kingsley who took the helm and elected Minister of magic, they were able to stabilize quickly after the war.
Daphne was accepted into law school within Aparating distance to home and was excelling in her coursework. Theodore had been working in the restoration of Hogwarts and repairing the Forbidden Forest with conservation efforts. Things were all falling into place for them, and that made Hermione more than content given the circumstances.
A knock came to the front door and Luna popped in, holding a basket of fruits and baked goods. Astoria beamed, not even giving her a moment before she set it down to give her a kiss on her cheek.
"You look lovely, honey," she chimed, taking what was in Luna's hands. "I told you that canary was your color. Doesn't she look beautiful, Hermione? Made this blouse just for her last week."
Hermione smiled as Luna blushed and turned in a circle to model Astoria's handmade garments. The two had become close after the war, and Hermione saw them slowly fall for one another. Luna had become Astoria's muse, and she made hundreds of outfits to dress her in. She had even begun writing fashion articles in the Quibbler.
"Absolutely stunning," Hermione replied.
Astoria set the basket on the kitchen counter while Luna began to place the items on the large dining table. "Don't let her beauty distract us from the conversation we were having, Hermione. We'll discuss it later, yeah?"
And as the table began to fill with chatter and laughter, Hermione temporarily forgot about Draco's absence. The Potters, The Greengrasses, Luna, and Theodore filled the chairs at her dining table. All the chairs but one at the opposite end from where she sat. She didn't know how everyone came to that agreement, just that since she had begun having these weekly dinners, that spot remained untouched. It was as if they all were waiting for Draco to walk through the blue door at any moment to join them.
"Can me and Albie stay the night here?" James asked Ginny. "Please, mum. Pretty please."
Ginny shook her head no as she wiped food away from Lily's mouth. "You've already stayed here all last week. Aunt Hermione is going to get tired of you both."
"They're fine to stay, Gin. It's no big deal," Hermione smiled. She enjoyed their company, making the farmhouse feel a little less lonely. They had a bunch of their clothes in one of the upstairs bedrooms and their toys were scattered throughout the home. "Plus, Tori is staying tonight so I'll have extra help. We can take them to the local library tomorrow."
Harry cleared his throat, looking apprehensive. "The kids are supposed to go to Molly's tomorrow. And well, Hermione, I wanted to ask you if you'd like to come by the Ministry. We're finally clearing out the lower levels. Could use your help with some stuff. Might be good for you to get out and see how much has changed since you were last there."
He was trying to offer her closure. It was a kind gesture, but Hermione was unsure of the proposition. There were so many horrid memories held there, she thought it would be impossible to find any sort of solace.
"I'll think about it," Hermione replied, not knowing how exactly to express her discomfort.
"Mind if I join you, Harry?" Theodore asked. "Haven't been there in a few weeks myself. I can help with whatever you need."
"Of course," Harry smiled before looking at Hermione. "You know, it was hard for me too. Kept thinking about Sirius every time I saw it. But restoring the stonework and bringing in more light to the area has really helped me."
An irrational anger began to build in her head, her hands becoming hot with discomfort. She wanted to yell that she didn't need to go there and see the place that took him. Wanted to scream at them all to leave her alone so she could sit by his portrait in silence. But she had to calm her nerves.
It wasn't fair to unleash her anger on them. It was her fault that she was still in the state she was, unable to move on as everyone else had, unwilling to face the reality of his absence. She clenched her fists under the table, but calmed her breathing enough to get through dinner without having an outburst.
Harry, Ginny, and the kids said their goodbyes for the night. Theodore and Daphne cleaned the table as she and Astoria did dishes. They found themselves sitting in the living room, drinks in hand, winding down from the day. The portrait above the mantle was empty, Draco likely avoiding the group to not upset Hermione if they engaged with him. That was her assumption at least, but she had the nagging feeling he was just out of sight.
Daphne stood, stretching with a big yawn. "I need to get up early tomorrow, got a paper to write," she said as she gave Theodore a kiss on his forehead and scruffed Astoria's hair as she walked passed. Before leaving, she pulled Hermione into a hug. "Don't do anything you're not ready for yet. But just know, you don't have to do it alone."
"I'll hold your hand the whole way, if you'd like," Theodore agreed, standing up to wrap his arms around both Daphne and herself. "Might need you to hold my hand, actually."
Hermione sighed, seeing her defeat. The starter was Daphne, the follow up was Theodore, and the finisher was Astoria. It seemed like so long ago that Astoria was bedridden and frail. Now, she was nearly tackling the three of them to the ground as she joined in the embrace.
"We're all here for you, Hermione," she whispered.
Those words were enough for the tears to spill from her eyes. It felt silly for her to still be in the state she was. She had only had him for a few months of her life, where the three of them had lost someone who had been with them for years. She thought it was selfish for her to still be deep in her grief, but they didn't judge her or make her feel any less for it. So the least she could do was try. Try, so they wouldn't have to worry about her any longer. Try, so she might heal.
Theodore and Daphne bid them a good night and left shortly after. Hermione had calmed herself, and she and Astoria tucked themselves into bed. Though the farmhouse had several rooms, they always shared a bed and talked into the night, like two schoolgirls having a slumber party. They would discuss books and gossip until they both fell asleep, however that night, slumber never came for her. She laid quietly, looking up at the ceiling where painted constellations glowed softly in the dark.
Her mind began to stir as she attempted to push thoughts of him away from her mind. But they kept coming back, haunting her, making her desperately long for his embrace to lull her to sleep. She reached down to grab a bottle of fire whiskey that sat on the floor by the bed, attempting to drown out the memory of his cold skin with the burning liquor. Instead of the drinks fading his image from her mind, they amplified her desires. Her desire to look into his eyes and find comfort.
Hermione stumbled into the living room, the bottle of fire whiskey in hand. Her skin was hot in her drunkenness, but still, she craved for another drink. It shielded her from her sadness, letting her anger spill instead. As she looked at the mantle where the portrait lay, she began to feel nervous. Draco sat in the armchair with a newspaper in hand, but she could see him peeking over the pages, his blue eyes inviting her in.
Daphne likely paid a small fortune for the portrait. The small mannerisms that were picked up by the painter, from the way he brushed his fingers through his hair and tapped his foot softly on the rug, made it almost feel real. But it wasn't real. It was just an illusion. Magic embedded into canvas to mimic the essence of Draco. It wasn't him. It couldn't hold her as she fell asleep or kiss her when she woke. All it could do was pretend to be the man she loved.
She took a step forward, eying the picture, trying to still her dizzy mind. The liquid courage made her less afraid to look directly at the portrait, letting her realize that she could confront it if she wanted to.
"You're dead," Hermione mumbled, nearly regretting engaging and uttering her first words to it. The painting of Draco set down the newspaper, a small smile on his lips.
"I know," he replied softly, leaning forward in the chair. "I've been dead for a long time. Well before we met again."
Hermione slumped into the couch, observing the strokes and minute details. Each one perfectly formed into his image, like she could reach out and touch him. But it wasn't real. It wasn't real. It wasn't real. She had to keep reminding herself of that, though his voice lured her in like a lullaby she's been wanting to hear for so long.
"He wasn't dead. He was alive and he was with me. I felt his heartbeat."
The painting was no longer smiling, a more somber look on its face, its brow slightly furrowed. "You made him feel alive. Brought him back from the dead. Made him the happiest he was in years."
"How would you know?" Hermione bit back, her heart breaking in her chest as tears threatened to fall. "You're not real. You're not him."
"I know I'm not real. But I feel like him."
"But you don't know anything. You don't know the secrets we shared or the moments we had alone," she cried, tucking her head against her knees, not able to look into his blue eyes that she so desperately wanted to see. Desperate enough to speak to the portrait she had spent weeks avoiding.
"You could tell me about them. Then I'll know."
Hermione quickly stood, steadying herself from tipping over. "I can't… I'm not ready," she heaved, her chest heavy as she turned away.
"Wait!" the portrait called. Hermione froze, its voice so familiar and haunting. "Don't go. I'll shut up if that's what you wish, but please stay. I want to see your pretty face, Granger."
It was just words regurgitated from what Daphne had heard Draco say, nothing of substance. It had no wants or needs. And though it was a distraction, she couldn't help but to falter to his words. The look upon his face that reminded her so strongly of Draco. She was falling for it the longer she held his gaze.
"Merlin, you look just like him," she mumbled under her breath.
The painting laughed softly. "I'm assuming Daph and Tori spent more money on this than any financial advisor would recommend. The best of the best. They deserve it. You do as well."
Hermione smiled, though tears still rolled down her face. "You should see the ones they put up at the manor. Placed fifteen frames around the damn place. Gemstones in the around the border. Really gaudy."
"Do you like that one more than me?" he asked, smirking back at her.
Hermione giggled, her cheeks warm and wet, "Jealous, are we?"
He shook his head, a slight chuckle escaped the painted lips before he spoke. "Is he better looking?"
"Don't know, never saw him," she shrugged, sitting back down, and taking another gulp of liquor. The warmth of the fire and whiskey numbing, making it easier to talk openly. They sat quietly for a few moments before she got the nerve to speak again. "They want me to see the place where he died. They think it'll give me closure."
"Will it?"
"I'm not sure," she said, rolling the glass ball of her necklace between her fingertips. "Do you think I should go?"
The portrait pondered on its words. "Perhaps. If it will ease your mind."
"I don't think I'll ever be eased. Not until I can touch him again. In this life or the next."
"Wherever he may be, he'll be waiting for you. I know I would," the portrait said with conviction.
"Sometimes I think I shouldn't make him wait any longer," she muttered, holding back tears again. "We had so little time in this life. It wasn't fair for him."
"He wouldn't want that. He'd want you to be happy here."
"How can I be happy without him?" she asked, her attention affixed to the flickering flames of the fireplace.
The portrait of Draco spoke calmly, cradling her aching heart. "I know a book can put you in a good mood. And when I watch you playing in the yard with your nephews from the window, I can always see you laughing. Or when you and Astoria are together, I can hear it then. Merlin, your laugh is my favorite sound."
Hermione blushed, hiding her face away in embarrassment. She wanted to be repulsed by it, to shun it away for being a pretender. But it was soothing her aching monster, making her grief, if only for a moment, subside.
"I also know you like it when I play the piano. That seems to brighten your smile," he added. "You can find light in almost any darkness. Hells, you found it in me… found it in him, I mean," he corrected himself.
Hermione pulled her knees to her chest, hugging her legs, settling into the plush couch. "He called me by my name. He told me he loved me once… Do you love me?" she asked plainly.
"With every weave of this canvas, I do. I love you, because he did. And it was so obvious to everyone who knew him, how else would Daphne know to insist that I be made in this way?"
There was never a doubt in her mind that Draco and the portait of him cared for her. Selfishly, she only asked because she wanted to hear those words said by his voice again. His voice that had always drawn her in, that could capture her with a single breath. But she didn't expect it to feel so convincing. Hermione laid on the couch, resting within view of the portrait, falling into a deep sleep.
—
"Merlin, I can barely recognize the place," Theodore said as they stood at the check-in desk at the Ministry. A young woman validated their identification cards and handed them back with some badges for them to wear around the new facilities.
"That's probably a good thing. Smells a lot better," Hermione agreed.
"Yeah, no lingering scent of piss and blood. I quite like it," he replied, noting the changes in light fixtures, creating a warm and inviting presence. Ginny and Harry's influence was found in nearly every corner of the revitalized Ministry. It was bustling with activity, Hermione couldn't walk but a few seconds before someone stopped to speak with her.
"Where have you been?"
"How are you holding up?"
"You look like you've lost weight."
Merlin, she just wanted to get it all over with. She wanted to ignore everyone and just make her way to the damn ninth floor. Theodore helped shuffle her away when he noticed she was uncomfortable around so many people. They avoided the crowds, opting to make a beeline for the lifts.
When the doors opened, Hermione froze in place, staring directly down at the stone archway. She didn't notice the lights that illuminated the once dark room or the brightness of the new white paint. The stones had been immaculately resurfaced, smoothing out the damage that occurred from battle a year prior. Her hand twitched, wanting to desperately reach for the 'close door' button. But she couldn't move, a panic making her as still as a statue.
It wasn't until Harry broke her line of sight of the archway that she felt reality coming back. He held out his long arms, smiling brightly as he always did.
"Hey you two. Thanks for coming," he said. She didn't move, but met his eyes.
"Hi Harry," Theodore replied, his hand moving to Hermione's back. Gently, he herded her out of the lift. "Love what you've done to the place. Looks like an actual workable environment."
There were several wizards and witches sitting on the steps surrounding the stone dais, scribbling notes and reading large, old tomes. Hermione tried to focus on the sound of the quill scratches and turning pages, which would have typically comforted her if not for where she was.
"Yeah, took a while," Harry replied. "Got the research started back up from before Voldemort."
As they descended down the stairs to the bottom, their conversation faded from her ears. All she could hear was the beating of her heart in her chest. And as if she wasn't controlling her own self any longer, she moved closer to the center of the room. Her feet slowly carried her towards the archway, seeing the veil shimmer in and out of existence.
It was almost beautiful the way it cascaded around the stones, drawing her closer, making her wonder what Draco had thought of when he cast the Patronus charm that saved her life. There was an urge deep within her brain to run directly into the veil, hoping that he would be waiting for her on the other side. But the way that Theodore held her waist as they walked made her sure he would stop her if she tried.
They approached at the base of the slightly raised platform it stood on, entranced by the mystery of the veil. In her soul, she felt herself begging and praying to any god listening for Draco to walk back through it and into her arms. The longer she stood in front of the archway, the less likely that possibility came. But she was finally facing it, and she thought about how proud her parents and Draco would be of her for doing so.
And then, she heard it. The siren call that had captivated her. A personal melody that could soothe her mind in the most chaotic of times. The voice that used to grate on her every nerve but she was now so hungry to hear. It rang so clearly, she thought that he spoke directly into her ear.
"Granger?"