Draco stopped in his tracks. The money was nothing to him. Literally. He'd never miss it, but if he left without saying another word, Darswaithe might decide to do something pathetically noble, like owl him the stupid draft. And Draco didn't want to see it again, ever. He never wanted to think about this place, or remember that horrible bell that had ruined everything.
He turned around halfway, just enough to meet Darswaithe's gaze with the corner of his own. "I haven't changed my mind."
Darswaithe's brow furrowed, making his bald spot stand out more. "But you seem a trifle upset--"
A trifle? A trifle? Draco suddenly had an insane urge to laugh. He might even have given in to it, if not for the fear that it might turn into more of a cackle. The last thing he needed was for Harry to start oozing pity. Pity!
Nobody pitied him. Nobody, ever. He wasn't pitiful. He wasn't.
He put on the coolest, most aloof expression he could muster. The one he used to wear when Lucius was delivering one of his condescending lectures. And he put on the voice that went with the face. The smooth tones he would use whenever he had to force himself to engage in polite conversation with someone probably not worth knowing well. "I've changed my mind about visiting, but you do good work here and I'm sure you'll put the funds to excellent use. Now, if you'll excuse me?"
Severus gave him a swift, critical glance. Worse, Draco felt a slight pressure brushing at the fringes of his consciousness. Legilimency! Draco immediately began thinking about water. Not calm expanses of it, like he'd used at first when Severus had taught him to Occlude. No, Draco's own image was more turbulent. Frothing, churning waves, the sea roaring all around him, the tang of salt air in his lungs . . .
The hint of pressure vanished, Draco successfully pushing Severus out of his thoughts, just as he'd finally learnt to do after days and days of intense lessons. Except this time, it didn't take much effort. Which didn't make too much sense, actually. What was the point in Leglimising someone if you didn't apply the spell with enough force to get your way? And what was the point in making your mental presence so bloody obvious? Severus was a good enough Legilimens to enter with stealth. Perhaps not perfect stealth, but better than that, at any rate.
The whole thing was irritating, mostly because Draco didn't understand it. Severus always had plots inside plots, which meant that something interesting was certainly going on, but Draco couldn't quite determine what. So of course he was annoyed.
On the other hand, things could be worse. How would he feel if Severus had been trying to fully read his mind? It had been more like he'd wanted to get a sense of Draco's thoughts. Huh. One couldn't even call the action sneaky, since Severus had made no effort to conceal his probing presence.
Draco didn't know what to make of it, but he felt too tired to argue the matter. Tired, and depressed. He just wanted to be alone. Completely alone, and away from this dreadful place.
He walked out then, not waiting to see if Severus or Harry followed him. But then, he didn't need to turn around for that, did he? He knew they'd be just behind him.
Harry with his pity, with his quick glances saying that Draco had been very stupid, and his comments suggesting that Draco was going to become even stupider--telling him not to go and attack Rhiannon, of all things! As if he would ever, ever--
But she's a Muggle, she's a Muggle--
Draco bit back a scream at the thought, and gripped his wand tightly, his hands buried in his pockets by then.
"Draco," said a low voice behind him. Severus' voice. Harry, it seemed, had the sense to keep his mouth shut for once.
"Home," croaked Draco.
Oh, Merlin. When he thought about the cottage, just one thing came to mind. He'd wanted to take Rhiannon there. Had longed for it, in fact. If he'd been the secret-keeper, he might just have broken, and told her about Devon so he could show her where he lived. But could you draw a Muggle inside a Fidelius oath?
She's a Muggle.
Draco's mouth went absolutely dry. Gripping his wand even tighter, he squeezed his eyes closed and tried to Disapparate. Into a hole, maybe. He wanted to huddle somewhere small and dark, and try to forget what he'd learned. Or forget her, maybe. Forget she'd ever been. Forget he'd known her.
Forget he'd fallen in love with someone so utterly, completely inappropriate.
But his attempt to melt away and go somewhere else failed. Of course it did. He couldn't concentrate properly. He could barely even think.
Fine wizard he was, letting something like this interfere with his magic! She wasn't worth it. How could she be?
"Home," he said again, his voice desperate as he opened his eyes and looked around for his father. "Severus--"
He almost cringed when the older man came close, but the moment Severus' arm looped warmly about his shoulders, Draco realised how messed up he was starting to get. He'd asked for Severus' help, but somehow, he'd expected the man to respond with Lucius' typical disdain. That tsking noise. Long blond hair swaying back and forth as Lucius shook his head. Really, Draco, he would say. Are you such a poor wizard that you can't manage on your own? At your age? It seems I've wasted all those years of school fees . . .
But Severus didn't speak that way, of course. His arm around Draco was firm and supportive, and all he said was one word. "Come."
It was nice to have a father, Draco decided then. A real father. Someone who would understand you even if you didn't explain. Someone who cared more about you than about what the wizarding world would think.
Draco started trembling. What if he hadn't found out the truth? What if he'd gone back to Hogwarts and had told them all about Rhiannon, and one of his fellow Slytherins--Zabini, probably--had taken it on himself to investigate, and had found out that she wasn't magical after all?
That she wasn't magical at all?
He could just hear it now. That voice, taking on a sing-song cadence. Malshite's dating a Mug-gle, Malshite's dating a Mug-gle . . .
Severus drew him closer, his whole presence screaming care. Or maybe even love. Some, at least. Draco didn't fool himself that Severus would ever love him the way he loved Harry, with whom he'd had all that bonding after the bone marrow operation and then again after Samhain, but he did think that Severus must love him, too. A little.
The thought scared him, actually. So he tried not to think about it, even though he knew that Severus wasn't Lucius. Severus wasn't a vicious, horrible person who used love as a weapon to control people.
It didn't matter that Severus wasn't like that, though. Or that Harry wasn't like that at all. Every time he thought about being loved, he started to shake inside. Except when it had come from Rhiannon. Romantic love was different.
And out of the question, now. A Muggle!
A cursed Muggle!
Draco closed his eyes, slumping as he let Severus Disapparate them both.
------------------------------------------------------
The cottage had never looked so welcoming, Draco thought as it came into view. Actually, he didn't think he'd ever regarded it as particularly welcoming before. It certainly wasn't his idea of a proper summer retreat. The place was too old and worn. Tatty, even. The first time Draco had seen it, it had been all he could do not to shudder.
Actually, he had shuddered.
Now, though, things were different. Oh, the place was no more fit for habitation, even if it was a little larger. Somehow, though, that didn't seem to matter as much, not now. All that mattered at the moment was that he was finally home.