It was an impossible task she presented, and Bucky bit into his tongue instead of voicing any protest. He knew things took time, but how could he start trying to build anything lasting when the reality was that everything could be taken and destroyed all over again. That he could be used against those that cared about him, or they could be used against them. How could he put anyone through that? Bucky knew something worse was coming, and he hadn't been strong enough to resist them the first time.
The itching to get away returned, not from her office or the present, but entirely. They had told him Hogwarts was the safest place to be. He didn't believe it. It was just the most convenient place for them to keep him under near constant supervision. And yet somehow that Hufflepuff boy was found dead outside the school anyway, and he was just glad nobody thought he had anything to do with it.
Did the Death Eaters know he was there? He was sleeping in the same dorms as their children, and even if they weren't involved, even if they didn't know, all it took was one wrong word. And he could only hope they wanted him dead instead of getting him back. Bucky breathed out, trying to focus. Persevere. Right. Pushing forward was the only option, not mourning things he never had. He was an adult. It didn't matter if he couldn't even remember being a child. He shook his head at the invitation to hug, posture folding in on himself.