Draco frowned as he stared at the picture in his hands. He'd drawn a beautiful sunset peeking through luscious green trees. It was a breathtaking forest seen, full of life and promise, and he hated it.

"Draco l?" His eyes snapped up. His caregiver, Luna, was standing far too close, far too quickly. She had been on the other side of the room only moments ago. "May I see?" Her voice was kind and boring, like usual.

Silently he handed her the paper. Her eyes widened and a bright smile exploded violently across her face. "It's beautiful. Draco l, it's wonderful!"

Draco forced his ambivalent expression to creep upward into his own bright smile. It used to be hard to pretend to smile; now it came easy. That was probably the biggest lesson he'd learn at New Moments. "Thank you," he forced out.

"How are you feeling today, Draco?"

Luna talked to Draco more than any other person at New Moments, and she always referred to him by name. It made disappearing into nothingness that much more difficult.

"I'm doing well," he answered politely, trying desperately to keep a happy note in his voice. That wasn't coming as quickly as the smiling was. "How about you?"

"I'm well," Luna answered.

No you're not. You're –doing—well, you crazy hippie woman. "Did you have a good evening?" The happy note had taken on a slightly manic tone. He would have to work on that.

If she noticed the untruths in his voice she ignored it. "I did. We went to the movies. How about you?"

He allowed his gaze to continue up, away from her eyes and towards the ceiling. Last night. Last night had been…unpleasant. There had been screaming and crying from down the hall. Someone might have been in trouble. He'd yanked a pillow over his ears and tried to disappear. Luna would not be impressed by that. He allowed his gaze to lower back to her face. "My foster parents called." His voice was nonchalant. Maybe a touch too clinical. Most fourteen year olds were probably happy to speak to their legal guardians after three months away.

"That's wonderful!"

Draco tried to avoid grimacing. He had the sense that if he had told Luna he had been attacked by mountain lions but had responded politely she would have squealed in joy. Talking to Arthur and Mollie, his foster parents, was essentially the same level of danger and usefulness.

His silence never stopped her. "What did you talk about?"

He frowned. "They asked if I needed a haircut." His silver blonde hair was starting to get a bit shaggy, but that's just what happens when one is locked up in a centre with no sharp objects for three months.

If she was underwhelmed, she hid it well. "Well, it's been a few months. That's a reasonable question."

"They told me they loved me." As soon as the words past his lips he wished he could slap his hands over her ears to stop her from hearing.

"Draco," her voice had gone deathly somber.

We're in a place for sick people, not a cemetery. I'm pretty sure I've been repeatedly told that there's a difference.

"Draco," she said again when he made no response. "You know that's true. They care about you; they just want to help you." There was a small pause. "And look!" she said excitedly. She held up the forest scene he had dutifully sketched. "Look how beautiful! Look at the progress you're making!"

The manic smile was back on his lips. It was almost starting to feel comfortable.