3 Years After the Battle of Hogwarts

France had an air of nostalgia to this Malfoy heir.

It was last place he had been before Voldemort, the war, the Mark. It was the first place he had gone after.

Take a pardon from the-boy-who-lived himself, a mysteriously disappeared Dark Mark, a sob backstory, and a confident swagger and suddenly Witch Weekly is putting you as "Hottest Wizard of the Year." Draco wasn't sure what to make of the proclamation by Britain's trashiest tabloid, but he took it and ran. Suddenly disgraced ex-Death Eater-child was misunderstood heartthrob. Brand deals to advertise anything from orphanages to Muggle cereal were flooding in, and Draco re-claimed his fortune with his own two hands.

He had been in correspondence with the now somewhat defunct Golden Trio in the years since the battle, along with everyone else from the war. Houses? Rivalries? What were such things? They had survived a war together, and no one outside of those who had been seventh years could truly understand. Draco himself could hardly understand at times. Now it was time to return to his home.

Lord and Savior Harry Potter had called a reunion, and it was the least he could do to show up, honestly. If there's one thing Draco had learned from the war, it's that you can't run away. Especially if you're too lazy to move to a different continent like Hermione had.

"You're leaving?"

He paused his frantic packing of the last area in his house, his room, to look up. A blond woman in his doorway whined loudly, hands on her hips. He reached his mind out but seriously couldn't grasp her name.

"Don't you love me?"

Mia? Maya? Marie? He could swear it was an M name.

"Draco!" she snapped.

"Look Marge-"

"My name is Ashley."

Well his memory wasn't the best either apparently.

"Ashley, I have a flight in 4 hours. I think it's a little too late to ask if I'm leaving."

5 steps across his room, 5 steps back and his packing was complete.

"What about us?'

Draco turned to her, his signature smirk plastered on his face. He took out his house key and tossed it at her.

"Ash. Can I call you that? Make yourself at home."

She stared at the key in her hands in shock, but Draco just sauntered out, lugging his suitcase and his broomstick behind him.

"Why do you have a broom-"

The door slammed shut, Draco hopped on his broom, and he was off.

A/N

This story is post-Hogwarts, ignoring the epilogue. Anything changed was an 'artistic liberty.' Thanks!