AN: tw- there is talk of panic attacks and anxiety. It is based on my own anxiety disorder. I know we all have different symptoms!
Thank you for reading!
Chapter One: Squib
It had been three years since Draco Malfoy moved to muggle London. Three years of not practicing magic. He had basically chosen to live his life like a fucking squib.
After the war, he had lost everything. He lost his father, Lucius, to Azkaban. The elder Malfoy slowly lost his mind in the dark corners of the magical world's most unforgiving prison. Draco's visits with his father became less and less when he eventually realized that Azkaban wasn't rehabilitating his father but instead pushing him deeper and deeper into the concept of blood purity. His strong and poised father soon became a shell of a man who twitched and trembled at every moment. Draco had lost his mother to her incessant need to social climb and repair the family name that had been broken beyond repair.
After Draco's trial, during which people who he had made their lives a living hell testified in his favor, he lost his pride. Make no mistake, he was grateful that he wasn't rotting next to his insane father but there seemed to be no escaping his own mental jail. After being a coward on the wrong side of the war, using his magic for darkness instead of light, he had lost his desire to be a wizard.
It seems hard to believe, considering the pureblood family he had grown up in. They were proud wizards. Extremely proud. Magic was who Draco was. It was what made the Malfoy name so powerful. But that is the thing, Draco now hated who he was. He fucking loathed the Malfoy name, loathed the pride he had within it. It was only humiliating. He threw his name around like it was some sort of prize at Hogwarts, and now it was nothing but a burden for the young Malfoy. Draco fucking Malfoy, ex-Death Eater.
See, it took him a while to realize he was fighting on the side of Evil. Some might believe he knew all along, but he was a child. He knew fuckall about what he was thrown into. He only knew what his parents told him, and that had to be right. Because they were his parents. Who else was he to believe? A fucking kid with circle glasses and a dumbass smile? An old man who sounded like he was going to croak at any moment? No. He believed his parents. And he was wrong, his parents were wrong. Circle Glasses and Beardy were right.
And he was wrong. People died and he was wrong. His friends died and he was wrong. It would be a different story if he had been right. If he had been right, his friends would have died as heroic martyrs. They would be treated like Fred Weasley and even Snape. Heroes who died serving the light. Instead, Draco's friends, regardless of their true beliefs, died as villain's no matter what.
Being a coward was basically a full time job for Draco, so moving out of the wizarding world seemed like the right promotion. He lived in a flat by himself, worked at an art studio, and he drank himself to sleep almost every night.
The muggle world was fucking strange to Draco. When he had first moved to muggle London, he was completely baffled. He had to learn how to cook, clean. All that simple shit. Learning how to get around the city was an absolute nightmare. One thing that he had learned was that some muggles were capable of being even more unpleasant than he was. They won't hold the lift door, they will quite literally push someone out of the way without a word, and they have no respect for personal bloody space. But, the non magic world was more simple in different ways. Ways that Draco found comforting. You don't have to be an expert at every spell or worry about bloody Azkaban. No one gives a fuck about Boy Wonder or Weasel or Granger. No one gives a fuck about him, good or bad. He didn't have to worry about a nose-less demon making himself comfortable in Draco's own home. Sure, the muggle world has their own versions of fucked up Voldemort's, but at least Draco was not thrown in the middle of their diabolical plans.
He would rather live in this world than live in a world where he felt like he couldn't even fucking breathe without being scrutinized. And it wasn't like he felt he didn't deserve it. But, he was a coward. A coward that could not handle the consequences of his very own family's actions.
Yet, he still had to face some consequences, like his inability to sleep without night terrors. He would dream of Dumbledore descending from the Astronomy Tower, the disappointment written on his dead face. He would dream of Granger being tortured by his Aunt, he would be screaming to let her go but no one could ever hear him. The worst nightmares weren't nightmares at all, but instead dreams of what his life could have been. A life with love and his own family. Using magic. A faceless wife and faceless children, his pride restored. The nightmare is when he would wake and all of those pleasant thoughts would be ripped away.
He never realized how much he wanted a family or how much he wanted to be in love until he realized he would never have either of those things. When he was young, he believed all of those things were inevitable. Draco never thought twice about the possibility of not having those experiences. But now, he knew he did not deserve love or a family. No witch within her right mind would want to date Draco Malfoy, the ex-Death Eater who ran away. And while he went on a few dates with muggle women, he realized he would have to lie throughout their whole relationship. And to his credit, that felt wrong.
His sobs and screams in the night became uncontrollable. His chest would feel so tight and empty at the same time. He would cry so hard that his breathing became erratic, causing a sensation that became far too familiar. His face would freeze and start to tingle, his fingers would become stiff, he would gag on his own sobs, and he would eventually lose consciousness. He would wake the next morning with eyes so swollen they were hard to open. It became so frequent and terrifying that he even visited a muggle doctor who diagnosed him with some type of anxiety disorder. He was given medication that did not do shit to help him. So he turned to drinking.
He read somewhere that muggle alcohol reduces the REM cycle of sleep, which meant no nightmares. Since he had sworn off magic, he did not use dreamless sleep potion, so he had to figure it out. And he did. And he eventually liked the numbness that drinking had caused. He could not think of anything for an extended period of time. His mind wouldn't allow it when he would drink.
The art studio that Draco worked at was small but growing. His boss, Mr. Donahue, was a complete twat in Draco's opinion. He wouldn't know good art if it punched him in the balls. That is why Draco was the number buyer and seller in that studio. If it weren't for him, Draco was convinced the studio would be covered in shitty hotel and coffeehouse art. He knew what the customers wanted. They wanted to feel something, they wanted to buy something that they would hang up in their house and take the breath away from their visitors. They wanted a piece of art they couldn't explain properly to someone else. They wanted something simply unique.
Draco found that having muggle friends wasn't as intolerable as he once imagined. When he first moved, his stance on muggles had only recently changed. But now, years into it, he quite enjoyed muggles. His closest mate would be his flatmate and coworker, Pierce Carlton. Pierce, in Draco's eyes, was quite literally a fucking delight. They were complete and utter opposites. Physically and mentally. Pierce was as tall as Draco, sure, but all of his features were dark. Dark hair, dark eyes, dark skin. He had this positive attitude that made Draco want to punch him in the face at times. He was American as well, always going on about Chicago and something about beans and tall buildings. He wore this cheeky smile that everyone found endearing but Draco mostly found it irritating. But, whenever there was a difficult buyer that was pushing Draco to lose his already short temper, Pierce would step in with that same smile and fix whatever was wrong.
To Draco's relief, Pierce had never pried into his past but always listened when Draco decided to share anything. Draco respected and appreciated that about his friend. While he always had to twist the story to make it more muggle, Pierce never judged Draco. It was almost a silent understanding that Pierce knew Draco had not led an easy life.
Draco woke with his signature hangover. He believed that he was drunk more than he was ever sober. Every morning he called his mother. He gifted her a muggle cell phone that she still complains endlessly about. They talk about whatever is going on with her most of the time. She used to ask him questions but his vague and irritated answers caused her to stop.
"Good morning, my Dragon," Narcissa said sweetly. Though her constant need to repair the Malfoy need seemed to take first place in her life, nothing would replace the love she had for her son. Draco was simply too bitter and numb to realize that.
"Morning mother, how are you today?" Draco drawled.
While he cared for her, their conversations were always identical. She basically begged him to return to the Manor, and he would always decline.
"I am well, today I will be going to your Aunt Andromeda's home and watching Teddy." Her voice sounded hopeful.
"Tell them I say hello and that I wish them my best." Draco said flatly.
His mother sighed into the phone. "You could tell them yourself, my son. They do wish to see you soon. As do I."
Draco wasn't sure but it sounded like his mother was close to tears. While he wanted to see her and he would plan on visiting her soon, he would never understand how Aunt Andromeda or even little Teddy would want to see the boy who helped Bellatrix into Hogwarts, killing their daughter and mother. Or how they had forgiven his mother when she was fighting against them that whole time. He wasn't able to forgive himself, how could anyone else forgive him?
"I will come and visit you soon enough. But you know how I feel about-" Draco started but his mother was quick to interject.
"Draco, while I am beyond excited to see you when you eventually visit, that is not enough. You are denying yourself of who you are. Magic is who you are. You will have to face what has happened, forgive yourself, and move forward. That is what we are all doing here. I love you, Dragon, but it has been long enough. Come home." Her voice was loving but stern.
"I, I just can't. I have to go to work now. I will talk to you tomorrow. Goodbye, Mother." And before he could hear Narcissa's protests, he hung up.
AN: I hope you guys like this first chapter! Please feel free to review with suggestions :)