Chapter Text
Dust settled around him as he shot one last parting glance at his family home; it was still technically under his name, but it was no longer a home, not a place to bring up a child. Children shouldn't have to grow up surrounded by dark magic and angry peers.
All the possessions he wanted to keep were in the back of the muggle car, few and far between. Only nice shirts and paintings Draco had done before it had all gotten bad. Don't get him wrong, there were things he could've kept, like family portraits and things with his crest, but he didn't particularly want to keep things that reminded him of the family that exists no longer.
Keeping an eye on Scorpius sleeping steadily in the back seat of the beat up Ford car (what even was a 'Ford'? was it a muggle cult?), Draco locked the door to his old childhood home where all his memories existed and walked away, not turning around to glance back. Opening the rusty red door with a creak, he slotted the keys into the ignition and turned, steadily pulling the muggle contraption out of the driveway and down the country lane to the rest of his life.
Sunset loomed and Draco was still driving, flicking his eyes up to the mirror to check on Scor every once in a while, driving with no urgency or direction. Scorpius was still asleep, rosey mouth slightly open and dribbling on his muggle clothing; pale blonde hair mussed against the friction the seat and long eyelashes flickering occasionally on his lightly freckled and cherubian chubby cheeks.
And God, a strong urge of paternal protection flooded Draco's senses, another reminder of exactly why he was venturing into the great unknown.
You see, because it wasn't safe for him to stay in the mainstream wizarding world any longer. Whilst he may have been pardoned for his war atrocities, that didn't mean anyone had genuinely forgiven him, even with Potter's strange and not entirely welcome endorsement.
Hell, he still hadn't forgiven himself, another reason he had to leave. Although he didn't want his son to grow up eternally loathed by everyone and their mothers, he also didn't want him plagued by the bad memories haunting the Manor and the dark magic attached to it. Too many nights were spent screaming and waking up covered in a sheen of panic cold sweat from terrors that dragged him under, people screams haunting him even with his eyes closed. Even the magic there was tainted, nothing coming out pure like it was when he first cast a spell at Hogwarts. That wasn't the environment in which his precious child would be safe to practise or learn of magic and history.
So he decided to revert to almost-muggledom, travelling around wherever he could to all the magical communities that would welcome him, and see what else he could learn from the world he had been deprived of, the diversity he had no choice to have missed.
And as the last sun's rays set behind him, freckling the road with diffused light from the hedges, and lighting everything with a ethereal rose gold sheen, he was entirely welcome of what he was to relearn.