Draco surprised himself by not shying away from the touch, but the look of confusion on his face in Neville's wake practically left permenant wrinkles in his forehead. Since it was too late to stop him and he didn't really want to risk going into the shop himself, just in case, he was forced to wait with simmering irritation until he returned. When the door opened again he stubbed out the cigarette, stood up and shoved a handful of gold - far too much for even a dozen broken vials - into Neville's hand, and then stuffed his own hands back in his pocket. He might look homeless, but he was still heir to the richest wizarding family in Britain, and he could still make a point. "Appreciate your help," he said, with a great deal of effort.