There was no time to flinch away from the touch as the tea was taken away, but it was comfort instead of the punishment he always expected. Her hands were soft, not as warm as the mug, but steadier than his. Bucky breathed out in a whimper. "Don't matter," he responded flatly, because how his parents would have felt was just theoretical anyway. "Never get a chance to know."
His eyes were reddened, damp as he blinked them open, but he refused to let any tears fall. "Gracie said the muggles I stayed with were nice. They don't even know I'm alive, ya know? And I can't remember them anyway." Now that he was talking, it was difficult to stop himself, so much pent up that he wasn't allowed to talk about, only the staff was supposed to know, and many of his professors had been cold by default. Watching to make sure he didn't slip up. It felt almost a relief there was somebody he confess how he felt to, without having to hide the details.
"I just want a home," he admitted, looking away in shame. Hogwarts didn't feel like one, and he'd be graduating next year anyway.