Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter in any way or form. It belongs to J. K. Rowling. (I own a book set but I don't think that counts, so no. I don't own Harry Potter.) And I'm not making profit with this story either.

Warnings: Well, not much so far, but I guess I should probably put 'minor language' in here for later chapters.

AN: Not sure if I should've put this under warnings but anyway: this is (obviously) going to be slightly AU, and it's not going to be a slash-story. (I have nothing against slash, but I just can't see this story going that way. I'm not even sure if there will be any major romance - it focuses more on how Draco copes in the muggle world.)

His decision to leave had been final. Even though he had fought for the Light in the Battle of Hogwarts – and he had been seen by many who later witnessed for him – he was still shunned for being a (former) Death-eater, a Malfoy and Voldemort's right-hand-man's son.

To most people it only mattered that he had helped the Dark Side. It did not matter to them that he had been imperio'd to allow the Death Eaters entrance to Hogwarts – he had fought against the curse, which is why it had taken so long until he finally got that cabinet restored. At the same time he had also been imperio'd to kill Dumbledore, but fought that order, too. If he really would have wanted the old man dead, he'd been dead within a day or two. He would have never used such botched up strategies where so much could go wrong (And went wrong). But in the end… he had failed and led the Death Eaters into Hogwarts. And if Severus hadn't interfered he most likely would have ended up killing the old man.

As soon as his task was completed and the curse was fulfilled and consequently lifted, he had turned on the Dark side and fought for the Light. But his help wasn't enough to and the Light still lost that Battle.
His changing sides on the other hand resulted in Lucius getting more creative in his curses to subdue Draco – Draco was practically possessed by Lucius during the following year.

After the final battle he finished his N.E.W.T.s – luckily his classmates knew about him being cursed at the time and they had, well, not forgiven him and it surely wasn't forgotten, but they looked past it or at least they tried to. They all avoided him, yes, but at least they left him alone. The normal population and the press on the other hand… They wanted his head on a silver platter. Rita Skeeter was especially creative with her explanations for him changing sides. According to her last article, it had been on a whim because apparently he had a crush on the Boy-Who-Lived.

He had hugged Harry, out of gratitude, once because the guy had stood up for him since Potter could relate to having the press print made-up stories about oneself. Draco might not have been the most touchy-feely person but to be accused of having a crush because of one short hug was a bit much on the other hand, who was he kidding – it was obvious that Skeeter had used her Quick-Quote-Quill again and those things always wrote things over the top. He remembered how she had written an article about Mrs Parkinson when he was ten – Skeeter accused her of having an affair because she shook some random guy's hand. (Pansy had been miserable because of the naturally following rumours)

In the end it was that article that convinced him to go through with his plan to leave the wizarding world behind and start anew. He had enough of all the gossip and the rumours and the scorn. He could deal with anger over things he'd actually done but he refused to be deal with judgments passed over things he didn't.

Draco Malfoy was well aware that he knew next to nothing about muggles and that he would have to ignore all prejudiced notions he might have, but he figured that everything was better than the life he was living now. He couldn't understand how he once had thought that Potter enjoyed his fame. Being well known was a curse, nothing else.

And so, on a normal October night, a year after the end of the war, he left for the muggle world.

He had spent quite some time in the last year to prepare himself for the possibility of leaving and he had all of his (forged) legal papers ready. He would be known as Draco Black – he was using the maiden name of his mother. He left his birthday and his appearance the same. He didn't want the hassle of getting used to another birthday. The more things he had to lie about, the higher the risk he slipped up. . And while he had considered using a glamour but that would not be practical – not in the long run. A glamour only worked for a limited amount of time – much like polyjuice potion. It did work for more than an hour, a glamour could be used for up to a week but then it had to be renewed. And he couldn't bring himself to colour his hair with a potion – call him vain if you like, but he'd rather not end with black hair permanently. Though he knew he was exaggerating, it was a fact that his hair colour would permanently darken if he used potions on it – the only disadvantage platinum hair had.

So it was Draco Black that, with a trunk in one hand, a cage with a snake in the other and a few muggle banknotes in his pocket, waved for a cab. Inwardly he sneered at the thought how similar the knight bus and muggle cabs were, before he caught himself. And then he cursed himself because he would have to try to blend in and, more importantly, he could not afford to be condescending. He would have to live like a muggle now. Draco sighed.

The cab driver loaded his trunk into the car trunk but refused to touch the cage. Rolling his eyes Draco loaded it into the car trunk himself. "Don't worry. She doesn't bite." 'Much' he added in his thoughts. 'And she is not that poisonous.' His driver closed the trunk and asked for the address. After telling the driver the address of his soon to be (or rather starting today's) shared flat or rather shared house, he climbed into the car.
"You'll have to fasten your seat-belt, mate, otherwise I can't drive you. Safety regulations, you know?" Seat-belt? Fasten? What was the man talking about? Draco blinked at him and the other guy indicated the belt that was strapping him into the car seat. "Oh, right. Sorry." 'Now, how the hell does this work? Oh. That was easy.' Within a moment, Draco had fastened his seatbelt and they started driving.

"Had a bad day, mate? You look like hell, no offense." Draco stared at the muggle. Where the hell did that git get off to talk to him like… 'Relax' he reminded himself. 'Breathe and calm down. You're no Malfoy anymore. You're no longer part of the elite. And since you have chosen to become one of the common people, deal with people treating you like one.' Instead of yelling at the muggle he took a deep breath and nodded. "You could say that."
"Do you want to talk about it? Many people do during a drive – I could double as a psychologist." The guy winked at him but Draco had no idea what a psychologist was so he ignored that part of the offer.

"I'm kind of… running away from home."
"Oh. Sorry to hear that, mate. Lover's spat?" Draco spluttered. "WHAT? NO! No… I just… I need a change of place. Where I used to live… Everyone had these notions of who I am, you know. But that person wasn't me. Turns out the only guy who really knew me is a guy that hates my guts. Oh, the irony of life." Draco laughed mirthlessly. "There were a few who tried, but most people… They judged because of my father and I couldn't stand it any longer so I left." Draco had no idea why he had just spilled his guts to a complete stranger.

His driver was quiet for a couple of moments and when he answered he spoke softly. "I am sorry to hear that. It must have been hard. To be judged for something you have no control of whatsoever. I hope you can start over." He smiled in a friendly way. "A friend of mine… His father is in prison for sexual assault… He had to quit his job at a children's home because people were afraid he'd turn out like his dad. Of course that wasn't the official reason, they fabricated one, but everyone knew what it really was about. And yet, I never knew a nicer guy than him."
Draco smiled sadly. 'Well, I sure as hell wasn't nice. I know that. But still, in no way other than appearance was I like the old man.'

They drove on in silence for a good ten minutes before Draco almost timidly asked "I know, it's none of my business and probably a foolish question, but… how did you become a cab driver?"
The other man laughed. "You know, I think you're the first client that asked me that. By the way I'm Mark."
"Draco."
"Nice to meet you. Now, back to your question." Mark shrugged. "It wasn't exactly my first choice but I needed money, I can drive a car and there was an opening in the cab service of my hometown. I jobbed there during my last year of school, three evenings a week. Shortly after that my boss retired and closed his cab service. But he referred me to a friend here in London who also owned a cab business. And here I am. It's nothing I would have imagined myself to do for a living permanently but it's better than nothing." He shrugged. "It may not pay me much but I get to meet some quite interesting people. Just last week I drove this gorgeous elder woman who looked like a mix of Sigourney Weaver and Mary McDonnell." Draco had no idea what that mix would entail and again he ignored it. He guessed the two names belonged to females but who they were or why he would know them was beyond him.
"Or a few months ago, I drove this really strange fellow. He was wearing a magenta suit, can you imagine? Anyway, he was annoyed that I wasn't driving fast enough for his liking and apparently he was already late so I pointed out that I was driving a cab and not a DeLorean. And the guy asked me what a DeLorean was supposed to be! I mean, sure, one doesn't have to know the reference, but at least, one should know what a DeLorean is, don't you agree?"
"Yeah… Right, sure." Draco had no idea what he was agreeing to. What the hell was a DeLorean and why was it so important that everyone had to know what it was? Was it something muggles needed to survive or some contraption they used in every-day-life like a toaster or… or a floppy disk? Inwardly he groaned as he yet again realised that he knew practically nothing about muggles and was most likely as helpless as a new-born in their world.

Mark grinned. "Aaand, there we are. That would be 20 pounds fifty." Draco nodded. "Just a second." He fiddled with his money – which was which, again? What was worth how much? He already missed the familiarity of galleons, sickles and knuts - at least they had made sense to him. Now, for the life of him, he couldn't figure out the difference between paper pieces. They all looked the same to him. He sighed and gave Mark what he thought were 20.50 pounds.
"Err, check over it, please. I can't see them too well in this light." He lied.
Mark counted the money and nodded. "It's the correct amount." He smiled and left the car to empty his trunk. This time he – carefully – grabbed the cage to remove it, too.
"Well, it was a pleasure to meet you, Draco. I hope you can make a new start here."
Draco smiled – his first real smile in ages. "Thank you, Mark. It was a pleasure meeting you, too."
Mark nodded towards him for one last time and then drove off.

AN2: I hope you liked it.
If it's no good or if I set the rating too high or something like that then I'm sorry, it is the first story I published here and I'm consequently quite new to this. :)
On another note, I want to thank nerviges-beta-das-nicht-nervig-ist (german for annoying-beta-that's-not-annoying) for her help.