A/N: Chapter warnings for; explicit language, discussion of multiple child deaths and violence.

Next update on 4th February, Friday.

As always, thanks a bunch to our beta Amar!

Chapter Twenty Five: The Day Returns

...

Darkness settles on roofs and walls,

But the sea, the sea in the darkness calls;

The little waves, with their soft, white hands,

Efface the footprints in the sands,

And the tide rises, the tide falls.

The morning breaks; the steeds in their stalls

Stamp and neigh, as the hostler calls;

The day returns, but nevermore

Returns the traveller to the shore,

And the tide rises, the tide falls.

-Henry Wadsworth (the tide rises, the tide falls)

...

The goldfish are bigger than Harry, and he almost looks laughably measly and small in the face of the swirling creatures. They're a deep orange, like the colour of Ron's hair, but a shade darker, and their eyes are the size of Harry's head.

It should be disconcerting, but Harry doesn't mind them, they're on the other side of the aquarium, doing their own thing, and he sits on the cold, damp floor in front of them, cross-legged and alone. He doesn't mind it, the coolness feels blissful on his heated skin.

Harry gazes into their eyes, marvels at the way their scales shine in the blue light, the same that creates a blue hue on Harry's face, the water seems tinged with it.

'Remember elementary school?' Sirius says behind him, Harry is somewhat surprised by the sudden company but doesn't turn to look over his shoulder. 'Your class used to have a goldfish, what was that bugger's name? Timmy?'

"Yes," Harry replies, he hears the man's footsteps behind him, coming closer, "Dudley forgot to feed him, and I got blamed for his death."

'It was the teacher's fault. Entrusting a goldfish to a seven-year-old? Muggles. This giant one reminds me of Timmy. Both had huge eyes.'

Harry frowns, he feels the man slipping on the ground next to him, swiftly crossing his legs. "Timmy's eyes weren't golden."

Sirius shrugs. They're silent again, but only for a short while. Harry looks at the fish while Sirius looks at him.

'You need to leave now, Kiddo,' he says, 'You've been here with this giant bastard long enough.'

"He's the answer to a very delicate question, don't talk about him like that,"

'And that question is?'

"I was wrong before," he nods at the giant fish, "They cannot blink. They don't have eyelids. I've been wondering about it for the longest time until he helped me."

'Why should you care?' Sirius asks.

"It's a distraction from the pain," Harry shrugs, not taking his eyes off the goldfish, locked in a staring match Harry can't possibly win.

'That's what I was telling you," Sirius says, sounding uncharacteristically patient, "It's over now. You need to go back.'

"Already?" Harry finally looks away, "I don't think it's been too long."

'You don't want to leave.' Sirius sounds accusing, for someone who is entirely a figment of Harry's imagination, 'You cannot stay.'

"I know. But this-" Harry waves one non-shaking hand towards the fishes, "this is a rare sight."

'You've been here for a day already. Draco is worried.'

Harry's ears slightly perk upon hearing the boy's name. "He has been, hasn't he? Alright. You go ahead. I'll follow you."

Sirius gets up, brushes off his trousers with a huff and turns away. 'Sometimes you make me wonder if that will always be the case,' he says, but Harry can hear his footsteps fading away from the aquarium.

Harry wakes, and it feels as if his eyelids had been glued together for an eternity.

He cannot feel his hand, but that's a major step up from excruciating pain, and Harry takes it, glancing around the room with slight interest. The curtains are drawn, and there's an extra duvet covering him, Harry cannot hear anything but the sea.

The bed is empty except for him, and the side next to him is unrumpled. He looks around the room one more time and strains to hear anything else.

He doesn't have to wait for long, just as he has mustered up enough strength to push the first duvet off his chest, the door creaks open, and Harry stops. Draco quietly steps in and closes the door behind himself, as he turns, his composure dramatically shifts and he's running to the bed.

"Merlin!" he says and Harry speechlessly stares at him. His clothes are all messy, there's blood in his hair, Harry really hopes that's his dried blood and not Draco's. There's even some smudged against the scar on the boy's cheek and Harry wants to wipe it off.

"M' name's Harry."

Draco is so harried that he doesn't even react to Harry's quip. "Thank god, you're awake." Draco's hand is on his forehead and it's cool, just as cool and good against his skin as the damp floor of the aquarium.

"What's going on?"

"I was so worried." The blond sits back, the bed dips under his weight.

"Why?"

Draco's hand prods his face and then promptly he leans down to gaze at Harry's hand, bulked under the bandages. "Are you in pain or anything?" he asks. "I'm pretty sure there's no fever, and Severus says you cannot possibly be allergic to the potion, but I had to check."

Harry inwardly checks himself over, no pain anywhere, just the slight numbness in his hand. Draco looks exhausted.

"No pain. Are you okay? There's blood in your hair," his hand twitches in his lap.

Draco smirks up at him. "I carried out my earlier threat. Murdered Severus in cold blood."

Harry jerks, "Oh my god, what?!"

"Oh," Draco says, smile fading a little, "You don't remember… nevermind."

Harry stares at Draco's hand, loosely holding his without any hesitation, his skin is warm but Harry can only get glimpses of it where the boy's fingers brush against his skin. The blond doesn't even seem to notice he's holding Harry's hand, he's peering at Harry's face instead.

Harry finally looks up at him, meets his eyes while subtly pushing his fingers upwards into Draco's palm. He looks paler than Harry remembered him being.

"I'm fine," he tells the boy, immersed in the way Draco's grey eyes flicker with relief, and the way his shoulders instantly sag down, his whole body, in fact, seems to be going lax, and then suddenly he's sprawled near Harry.

"Draco?"

"Fine," the boy grunts. "I'm 'ine."

He squeezes Harry's fingers, and Harry squeezes them back, as well as he can through the thick bulk of bandages. He drops back against his own pillow, taking in the faint smell of blood and Draco's own scent just beneath his nostrils.

He raises his other hand, he wants to run it through Draco's mused hair, but he doesn't. Draco won't like that. Well, he doesn't particularly look like he would care about anything at the moment. Draco's already passed out, his mouth open a bit and his hand still in Harry's.

Harry stays like that for a while, staring into the seashell embedded wall in front of him as Draco doses off, grumbling something incoherent every once in a while. There's a knock on his door, sometime later, and the doorknob turns.

Harry watches as Snape's eyes swiftly run over him and Draco's slumped form. He rolls his eyes and draws out his wand as he approaches the bed.

"I told him to rest," the man grumbles, and with a swish of his wand, Draco is slightly levitated and properly laid near Harry. Snape looks at him then.

"How are you feeling?"

Harry regards him. "Confused."

"The poison was causing severe damage to your body. I administered the antidote a few hours ago," Severus says.

Harry bites his lips, and resists the urge to wring his hands, "How bad?"

"I wasn't here for the worst of it." Snape shrugs, settling on a chair near the bed. "Draco reported disturbing symptoms, high fever, seizures, excessive bleeding."

Harry opens his mouth, then closes it. For a moment he doesn't say anything, then glancing from Draco to Snape, he says, "I was dying."

Snape doesn't refute him, "Thankfully you're no longer in mortal peril. Even another minute delay would have made a world's difference."

"No lingering side effects this time," he can't help but add, "Are there?"

"No," Snape replies steadily, although his eyes narrow, "You can take your nerve soothing potions in a few hours."

"What did take you so long, sir?"

"I would rather you both be awake for that conversation. No need to worry anymore, Mr. Potter. Every last bit of that poison was purged from your system." Harry knows the last bit of that was supposed to be reassuring, but knowing that there is a reason for his delay serious enough to require a conversation, it makes his insides go cold.

"I feel better," he says instead, "Like I wasn't sick at all."

"I know. As I said, I designed that poison,"

"How did Umbridge… "

"Let's just wait for Draco, shall we?" Snape cuts him off, "I believe you need to rest as well,"

Harry doesn't need another invitation, his eyes are already heavy and his mind far away.

He smells. Horribly. He doesn't think he's ever smelled as horrible as he does right now. All he wants to do is get under a shower for two hours straight, wash his hair about five times at the very least, and scrub the grime off of himself.

But Harry's absence overwhelms even his own filthiness, and he quickly makes his way towards the door. He could shower later, but Harry could be dying right now and he couldn't resurrect him later.

His lines of thought are simply ridiculous. Draco knows that.

He vaguely remembers through the haze of exhaustion Harry waking up, and saying that he was fine. And even Severus isn't cold-hearted enough to bury his body while Draco was sleeping. At least, Draco doesn't think so.

Wrinkling his nose, he makes his way downstairs and can hear sounds of conversation coming from the kitchen. He doesn't know how worried he'd still been until his shoulders slump and he runs a hand through his hair, relieved, before promptly grimacing. He should probably have at least washed the blood off.

Harry is alive.

He is, well, and truly alive. Alive enough to be in the kitchen and… well, doing whatever he is doing. Draco supposes he could go and take that shower now that he knows Harry is alive, but he would rather see him first.

He very pointedly ignores the idiocy of such notions. This is becoming pathetic fast.

Biting his lips, he settles for a simple refreshing charm, straightening out his shirt and more or less smoothing back his hair. At least he doesn't look like an uncultured hoodlum anymore. As he enters the kitchen at last, he catches Harry's voice.

"-If that were true, you would be helping me cook now."

"Potter, you are insufferable."

"But I do have a point," Harry turns towards him from where he is chopping some carrots on the counter, and grins, "Oh, hi Draco."

"You're up," Draco says. It's kind of hard to believe that this is the same Harry who was talking deliriously to him on the shower floor, limbs flailing around as he seized, vomiting up blood.

"Yes. I knew you like chicken noodle soup, and you didn't eat anything yesterday, too late for breakfast now, so… " he shrugs and goes back to his chopping.

"You let him walk around?"This is addressed to his godfather. He also wants to add 'You let him near knives?', he'd seen the way Harry's hands had begun to shake recently, especially in the last two days, but he doesn't think Harry would appreciate the remark, "Just yesterday-"

"I'm fine," Harry cuts in. "Look at my hand." Draco does. And frowns. It's still bandaged, but no longer swollen, and the bandage appears clean, unlike the last few ones which had always seemed to bleed through. He also notices the fact that the shakes seemed to have eased off a lot.

Severus hums. "Yes, the nerve soothers work significantly better now."

"Still," Draco can't help but say, because the image of Harry's sickly appearance is way too fresh in his mind than he'd ever want it to be.

"Was he always such a worrywart?" Harry says before Draco could finish, "Do you have any idea what sort of injuries I've survived, Malfoy?" Harry's voice is teasing. "I got bitten by a Basilisk, my whole arm lacked bones for like a day, and dementors… I used to have a bed in the infirmary, and madam Pomfrey kept threatening she'll actually put a plaque on the bed with my name on it-"

"You're rambling, Potter." But the bands around his lungs loosen. He hadn't felt this relieved even when Harry first woke up.

"Yeah well, you got the point, the soup will be ready in a bit," Harry says as he slides the finely chopped carrots into a bowl.

"Why are you still here?" he asks Severus, perhaps a bit too sharply.

"Draco," Severus' voice is half warning, half a sigh. He always had a talent for that, and it always used to work on him. Keyword? Used. "We need to talk."

"One of those revelatory talks again?" Draco crosses his arms in front of his chest, and is vaguely aware of Harry watching him, "Who else is a spy? Your teacup?"

Harry regards him with raised eyebrows. "You're really in a bad mood huh? That happens when you go without food for two days."

He whirls towards Harry, "You knew?"

"Knew what?" Harry turns to the celery.

"That he's a spy," Draco jerks a thumb at Severus even though Harry's eyes are fixed on the celery.

"Oh yeah," Harry looks a little bit uncomfortable, and doesn't look at Severus, "Seen him around… during the summer."

"So everyone and their mother knew that you're working for Dumbledore. Great job. Lovely. You're a great spy."

"I think you need to get over that in the next few minutes, Draco. There are more pressing matters at hand."

Harry, as to cut the tension between the two, cranks his knife into the sink along with the board. "We can talk over lunch then."

The words feel like a finality as he works on finishing the soup, and Draco takes his seat, trying not to glare at Severus while also trying his best to glare at him. He knows his godfather will outmatch him in that area, so he settles for just sulking.

Severus just quirks an eyebrow at him before he goes back to the potions journal he had been reading, and Draco wishes Harry would hum like he sometimes does when he cooks. Of course, he doesn't.

Severus always ruins everything.

Soon though, the soup is done and they're all sitting with a steaming bowl in front of them. The smell is tantalizing enough to alarm a rumble in his stomach. Draco hadn't actually known he liked chicken noodle soup this much until Harry made it, in fact, the same thing went for any soup of any kind before Harry made them. So he's sure he only likes Harry's chicken noodle soup.

"There was a reason for my delay, several actually, but I think the most important one is what I'm about to show you," he pulls a folded newspaper from his leather back and slides it between Harry and Draco, ignoring the bowl in front of him for now, "It's not a hoax. More than ninety dead, hundreds injured."

Harry's mood dramatically shifts, his spoon drops into the bowl and he scans the text for only a moment before his eyes gaze into Severus'.

"Ron and Hermione," he says, so frantic that his tongue almost seems to slip over the words in his haste to get them out, "Are they- you have to tell me if they've been… or anyone that I know, the Weasleys…"

"No one that you personally knew, Potter. Four attacks, some order members were injured in Devon, but that is to be expected, one of our bases is in Devon."

"This is not good," Draco mutters.

Harry's face is much worse than his, pale and gaunt, the word crestfallen doesn't do Harry's face justice. "Why would he do this? Children? Muggle children?" He rubbed his face with weary hands, "Oh my God."

"He killed every single one," Severus' mouth thins, "they all belonged to an orphanage, close to the town's church. The caretakers have been murdered as well."

"This is not right," the paper crinkles in Harry's hand, "Why would he do such a thing?"

Severus is silent for a beat, and then he speaks, "He used to be an occupant of said orphanage, although I fail to understand why he would do this and why now."

"He was an orphan?" Draco asks. He didn't know that, come to think of it, he doesn't know much about the dark lord at all.

"But…" Harry swallows, he looks awfully disturbed, Draco wants to comfort him but he doesn't think it will be appreciated. After all, telling him that 'they were just muggle children,' doesn't seem like the nicest thing to say.

"But why would he do this to them?"

"We're not sure," Severus' hand is on his chin, his thumb tracing his jaw in a gesture Draco has seen his godfather do so often, "His attacks seemed to be more pointed recently, since your relatives' assassination, and your escape. This seems to be a continuation of his earlier strategy. I cannot tell you any more than that, Potter. You would understand, I'm sure,"

"I should have… how did I not see this? I had one of those vision thingies every time when something major was happening."

Draco has wrapped his cold fingers around the bowl.

Something major, as in his parents being slaughtered.

"Albus and I talked about that as well," Severus says.

Harry seems a world away. "I need to write to Ron and Hermione. I don't care what you have to do to get it to them, but I have to do it, I have to make sure-"

"They didn't even leave the school, Potter. They're fine. Umbridge has cancelled all further Hogsmeade outings until further notice anyway."

Draco's head shoots up at that and he scowls. "She's still in Hogwarts? I thought we mentioned the fact that she's a freaking Death Eater?"

"You didn't," Severus says, deadpan as he stares Draco in the eye, unimpressed.

"What?" Harry's head whips to Draco's and back. "what do you mean you didn't know she was a death eater? She poisoned me! She kidnapped us!"

"He almost died!" Draco adds. What sort of 'normal' teacher poisons a student and not be a Death Eater? Severus is supposed to be smarter than this.

Severus' face doesn't even twitch, "Well, that fact doesn't necessarily mean she was a death eater. Aside from kidnapping you boys, the poisoning could have as well been the ministry-"

"Alright, I'm telling you now." Draco raises his hands up, "She's a death eater."

He hates it when Severus is like this. He hated it as a child and he hates it now.

'Never confirm or deny a hypothesis without absolute evidence,' he used to say, quite annoyingly as Draco pouted over his cauldron, or his book, or even at the dinner table on a few occasions, 'Even if it seems like the absolute truth.'

"She has death eater connections, yes." Severus sighs now, "But there's no mark. Proving her guilt, specifically, proving she is the reason for your abduction is going to take some time, especially with the ministry in disarray like this." His mouth twists in a sneer.

"And Fudge knows this?"

"Fudge has no say in anything anymore," Severus flips the newspaper. "He's been replaced." He slides it across the table. Draco recognises the scar ridden, gruff face.

"That's Scrimgeour," he says, frowning, "The head Auror."

They had him over for dinner once. For whatever reason Draco can't remember now. The man hadn't stopped staring at him the entire time.

His eyes follow Draco's even on print.

"The head Auror as the minister?" Harry says, glancing at the picture as well.

"He invoked the Auror vote." Draco says, scanning the paper as quickly as possibly, a picture of Fudge fleeing the reporters, an article of Rufus talking about safety and new measures.

Bullshit.

"He must have, or they wouldn't proceed this rapidly."

Severus hums, "Good deduction, Draco."

"What are you talking about?" Harry isn't amused. "I have no idea what you are on about."

"The Auror vote. It's sort of… like an emergency stamp." He doesn't know how to word this. Harry should know all this stuff.

"A military coup?"

"Well, that is harsh wording." Severus interjects, but shrugs.

"Can we get back to Umbridge?" Harry says, "Can't this head Auror guy just get rid of her if we file a complaint?"

"Oh, I have more than a complaint," Draco can never get the image of Harry convulsing on the floor out of his head and Umbridge did that. He has a lot more than a complaint.

"What if she hurts others?" Harry asks, his fingers white knuckled around the paper.

"She won't," Severus says firmly, "The staff is taking meticulous measures to make sure she cannot tamper with the wards, or harm the children."

Harry throws the paper down on the table and Draco almost recoils at seeing the Dark Lord on the front page, standing in what appears to be the Ministry atrium. "That's not good enough! Doesn't Dumbledore care that-"

"Professor Dumbledore-" Severus cuts in, "Has been working day and night to get that woman out of school borders, trust me, Potter."

"What are we to do then, Severus?" Draco asks, tearing his eye away from the bold headline, wondering where his parents' name comes in all that, "Sit here and enjoy the scenery?"

"Albus deems it too dangerous for either of you to be moved right now. With the death of your parents out in the open you're being sought out by both sides, due to my recent fall of grace with the dark lord I cannot confirm this, but there are rumors, there's a prize on your capture. On both of you." At some point, Severus had taken up the spoon and started drumming it against the edge of his bowl, although he is yet to take a bite.

The clinking sound of the spoon feels like hammers in Draco's head.

He'd known it, of course, that none of the two sides were really safe for him anymore, but hearing it spoken so plainly still makes it… feel too real. He numbly picks up his own spoon and dips it in the soup, shoving a too hot mouthful past his lips.

"Hogwarts isn't safe, but what about the…" Harry stumbles over his words and makes a frustrated noise, "The summer place?"

"There are always a few mice in the walls, Mr. Potter, even if they are unseen with naked eyes. You're the safest here."

"And most useless," Harry grumbles, resuming his eating, much more slower than Draco. Draco has never heard Harry mention this summer place before. Or Severus, for that matter.

Secrets such as this aggravate him, because he knows he's going to spend the majority of his time trying to figure it out.

"I'm glad you brought that up," the man says. "How much do you know about the arts of the mind?"

"Like mind reading?"

Severus sighs, evidence of his suffering, "Then I'm going to assume you know very little." He pushes the bowl away entirely, "The connection you have with the dark lord is a mental connection between two minds. You're able to see through his eyes because you're able to access his mind through the connection."

Harry's attention is rapt and unwavering, whereas Draco has the least amount of concentration on his godfather, and more than so, on his bowl of soup.

Mother argued relentlessly with Severus over his eating habits whenever the man was over for dinner, more often than not. Father always rolled his eyes at their quipping and Draco used the opportunity to get rid of his vegetables as his mother and godfather bantered over cold meals.

This feels eerily familiar.

Severus is still talking and Draco is very very tempted to cast a heating charm on Severus' soup right now, like mother used to, but he knows that it will only make him wait that much longer before he starts eating, so he ducks his head and focuses on his own warm soup and the conversation.

"-So our minds are linked?"

"The concept isn't as easy as it sounds. Even Albus and I are unaware of the nature of this connection, but we have to assume the worst."

Wait. That's important.

Draco looks at Harry, then back at Severus. "What is the worst case scenario?"

Severus curls his mouth, "That the Dark lord can look back. If it's a two way connection then he will become aware of its existence eventually, sooner rather than later, he is a master at mind arts, we are afraid that Potter might not survive the encounter if that's the case." That sounds fantastic. Another way for Harry to be in danger, another way for him to get hurt.

"But I don't hurt him when I look through his eyes, how can he hurt me?"

Draco can't look away from Severus' stoic face as he talks. He stares and wonders if he's even telling the truth, "He is a master of legilimency, he can tear through your mind, not for information, but just for his own pleasure. I've seen it done before, there is simply no return from that. We need to teach you how to protect your mind now that we are aware of the connection." Draco has heard of legilimency before, not in detail, but it had intrigued him.

Now he wonders how much his mother knew about it. If the books he'd found at the Manor weren't Severus', but his mother's.

"How long does it take to learn?" Harry faintly asks.

"It took me over thirteen years to completely master the art of occlumency. Obviously we are pressed for time now, but don't worry, Potter, I will teach you how to protect your mind from any attacks,"

Harry blinks, looking a little stunned at the quick turn of events, and Darco isn't faring much better, but he seems to gather himself pretty quickly, "Alright, how is it done?"

"I've brought a few books on the subject, but Albus and I both agreed that a... hands on approach would benefit you more, than simple theoretical studies."

"Are you going to… read my mind?"

"It's not mind reading," Severus says, "Legilimency means the art of entering one's mind, I would be able to see any memory that I wish, any stray thoughts, any information from any point in your life. Occlumency is the counter attack to that action, you will empty your mind, lock down your memories or fabricate ones in a way that the intruder won't be able to discern them."

If Harry had looked stunned before, he looks completely baffled now, but covers it up well enough by ducking his head into his bowl of soup.

Draco hears a cough that sounds suspiciously like 'knew he could read minds' and Severus' bat-like hearing tactfully turns off for that moment. He also, finally, takes the first spoonful of his soup.

"Potter…"

"It sounds like a lot," Harry says when his face emerges from his bowl.

Severus inclines his head, "It will take some effort, but if you want to feel useful, you might as well start learning now, before the dark lord causes any more damage to your body or psych."

"Yeah alright. So you have to…. Do that to me once?" It is very obvious that Harry is trying to keep his face blank as he says this, and Draco could give him a few pointers as to how to do that, but he doesn't think even he could have kept a blank face here, "Why, to get a scope?"

The idea of letting even Severus into his mind is too absurd, Draco can't even imagine what it must be like for Harry, who's had a strained relationship with the potions master for years.

"Every mind functions differently, if we are to create a fortitude to protect your mind we need to see the base it's going to be built upon. It won't hurt."

"But you said he does it to torture people."

Severus' lips thin, "He does it with the purpose of hurting people. I think we can agree on the barbaric nature of his methods."

"Alright," Harry takes a deep breath, "Alright. When are we doing this?"

"After lunch, perhaps," Severus shrugs, "You need to be more or less calm for it to be most comfortable." He takes another mouthful of his soup.

"Alright. Cool. Yeah." Harry's hands have started shaking badly again, gone from faint tremors to visible shaking. "What if you see something embarrassing?"

"Would you rather I saw it or the dark lord?" Severus asks smoothly.

Harry's nose wrinkles, "Good point, yeah. Thank you, for doing this, and the antidote, I don't think I've thanked you for that."

"You are welcome," and then, without breaking stride, Severus turns to Draco and says, "Draco, may I talk to you for a moment? Privately?"

"Fine," Draco says, a little sourly, about to get up. But Harry snatches the empty bowl from front of him, and Severus as well, clearing the table and then turns away. Severus watches him go. Harry dumps the dishes in the sink, a little too loudly, and then stalks away from the kitchen. Draco looks back at Severus' voice.

"You could make use of those books as well, you know."

"Occlumency? I would have no need for it."

He knows what Severus is doing and the mere fact that the man thinks for one second that Draco doesn't is honestly insulting. Occlumency never interested him, but he's always been somewhat curious about mind arts as a whole. Especially about legilimency.

Severus crosses his fingers upon the table top, in that annoying way of his when he's ready for a lecture, "You do more than you think, Draco. Occlumency is not only done in order to protect the mind from intruders. It is designed to fight the demons within as well." Draco stiffens.

"I have no idea what you're on about," he says.

"You and I both know that you will not discuss the traumatic nature of your recent experiences with me, nor will you burden Potter with such information, occlumency is the only healthy solution," Severus continues, unfazed.

"Still no idea," he says airly, "Godfather."

"You are a Slytherin, Draco," Severus says, flicking his wrist so that his wand appears in his hand, and then waving it towards the dishes, making them start the washing process, "You know some things better than I do, I think you should try occlumency, for your own sake. Keeping the mind sound keeps the body away from irrational mistakes. You are aware of how body language reveals one too many secrets. You cannot afford that."

"I won't need it. Because I won't be facing Riddle. No one is about to read my mind, and I have no attachment to my trauma," he says hotly, standing up and getting himself a glass which he fills with water, "It's over and done with."

God he hates the man coddling him like this. He's not a child anymore.

"Lie to someone who hasn't raised you, or doesn't know your methods, Draco," Severus drawls, "Learn it for Potter, maybe you can help him if he has any difficulty grasping the theoretical aspects."

Draco smacks the glass on the counter.

"Manipulate someone who doesn't know you, Severus," he tightens his grip around the glass, "You think you have me figured out, you think you can trick me into doing this, because you think I'll fall over my feet for Potter," Draco wants to throw the water at Severus' face. He forces himself to take a gulp.

"I think you will do whatever you deem right regardless of my opinion. Regarding Potter and your occlumency," Severus comments lightly.

Draco breathes.

"There isn't a single moment of clarity in my mind where I don't want to hit you with a chair, Severus."

Severus gives him a thin smile and stands up, "That's as close as you get to loving someone, Draco." He jerks his head towards the living room, "Shall we?"