Draco thought he could feel the spell working; the sensation of losing his life-blood was slowing, at least. He closed his eyes, and was somewhat more clear-headed when he opened them again. He wasn't unaccustomed to pain, though usually he was better at preventing his own blood from being spilled.
Here, though, he was safe. He could trust Snape, who had saved his life, and the only other people who could come into the Manor without his assistance were his parents. Possibly his aunt, if she tried hard enough, though they had grown paranoid enough to lock her out more carefully. And Pansy, but she was-- he didn't have the faintest idea where she was. He'd just killed the Dark Lord to release her, and now he didn't know where to start looking for her. The Ministry, maybe?
He didn't want to go inside, but when he took a step forward, his head felt light-headed again. Inside, then, to rest. And he had an elf that he could send in search of Pansy, maybe. Elf magic would be able to find her, surely. He could also try writing to Fletcher--
Snape's words broke through his train of thought, diverting it back to his own safety. "Yes," he said, making it to the door of the Manor. He opened it and let them both inside, leading the way into the parlor after the door was locked behind them. Once there he collapsed into a chair, breathing far harder than he should have been from the simple effort of walking into his own house. "I suppose - I'll just have to hope the side that's most fond of me is the one that wins."
Which side that would be, Draco was not entirely sure. But even if Potter's side hated him more, he thought they might be more merciful. Salazar, was he actually hoping Potter would win at something, even if it happened after his death? That was such a strange thought.
He looked at Snape, resisting the temptation to look into his mind, knowing that he would find nothing there. The older man was a better Occlumens than he. "What was your plan, beyond bringing us back here?"