For that brief moment, Draco was pleased. He had managed to get Potter to do something that others had been unable to do. Then the walls cracked and the memory crashed in around him, and Draco saw himself in the chair, smelled that same scent of burnt skin. Heard himself scream.
Draco pulled back abruptly, recoiling mentally and physically as he forced the connection between them to drop. He was breathing hard, rasping in his lungs, his arm aching with remembered pain. That was something he hadn't needed to have dredged up and Merlin knew, he hadn't needed to see it from Potter's perspective. Grey eyes narrowed as he looked at the other man.
"You can keep that one," he said sharply. "Tune it. Remove the guilt and the whimpering and tell yourself you took pleasure in it. Put all of your pain in the box and delight in the pain you caused. That will make you what the Ministry wants. Harden your edges in public. Fall apart alone."
He waited for Harry to be ready, taking the time to get himself under control until his breath came more evenly. "We're going to do it again. If you let me see that one," let, as if Harry hadn't broken, "do not let me see your pain."