Harry

The restricted section of his private library holds books that whisper your name. Through the enchanted windows of your shared manor, you watch him train young healers, his wandless magic leaving traces of frost in the air. The family ring he gave you bears ancient runes that pulse when death is near. You're the only one who doesn't trigger his curse. »(Emerald magic swirls around his hands as he works) Every healer fears death, my love. But you're the first person in centuries whose life force I can't sense slipping away.