When Draco Malfoy disapperated from Malfoy Manor at three am mid-September, he only had a change of clothes and some spare change in a small Slytherin pride bag on his back. He didn't feel comfortable saying goodbye to his mother in person, so he left a note for Narcissa on his pillow, knowing she would find it after he didn't come down for breakfast in the morning.
The summer after the Battle of Hogwarts had been hard, but with Harry Potter personally stepping in to insist on pardons for both Draco and Narcissa, it was a little better. Draco knew his mother was writing letters to Potter, trying to thank him for their lives and apologizing profusely in turns as he just laughed and invited her over to the Burrow for tea. She never accepted.
The blond didn't know where he wanted to go yet, so he started by apperating to Diagon Alley. He decided to, at the very least, get some money from Gringotts so he could find an apartment on his own. He felt a drop of rain land on his head, and he looked up to see the London sky covered in gray clouds.
Great, he thought to himself.
Draco had decided against going back to Hogwarts to redo his seventh year, despite much pestering from Pansy Parkinson.
They all hate me, he had written back to her from the safety of his room. They'll never let an ex-Deatheater anywhere near that castle.
Grow up and see how much they really care, she sent in response.
He ignored all other owls from her after that.
How does one even get an apartment? Draco pondered as he wandered into the Leaky Cauldron to wait for morning. His entrance got a few stares, and he blushed bright red before sitting down quickly in the darkest corner of the pub. Maybe I should dye my hair…
By the time Tom, the owner of the pub, had gotten around to seeing what Draco would like to eat, the blond had charmed his hair to be a rich royal blue. Even with the hair change, Tom recognized the Malfoy immediately, and quickly hid his scowl.
"Mr. Malfoy-" he began before Draco hushed him.
"Please, Tom, not here. Just pretend you don't know me, please."
Tom looked at Draco curiously, before continuing, "What can I offer you to drink tonight, sir?"
Draco sighed and asked for a butterbeer, resigning himself to always being recognized and hated. Maybe I should go back home… He shook the negative thoughts off and pressed on with his decision to find his own way. No longer would he be a Malfoy, the now blue haired man decided firmly. It took him all of a minute to decide on a new name for himself. Potter.
Smiling to himself, Draco sipped at the butterbeer Tom had dropped off, maybe a little slower than usual, on his table. Yes, he would be a Potter. He thought for a moment about Harry, those beautiful green eyes and jet black hair, before frowning again, This was all good and well, but where would he live?