Draco raises his wand and holds the spell in his mind’s eye. He imagines the bond as a tangible string between their bodies, prepares to cut it cleanly through. He thinks himself as her healer and nothing more, because he has to be determined for her—enough to lose something essential. So he has to compartmentalise, and later mourn the part of him that recognises her, the magic that’s waiting to unfurl between them.