Life after the war had not been an easy adjustment for anyone, the wreckage, the strife, the destruction, the lives lost, and peace of mind stolen...it affected everyone in some capacity and, for once in their lives, the Malfoy family were no exception. Their last-minute switch in allegiance ensured Harry's help to exonerate them from imprisonment in Azkaban, but having a clear legal record did not clear the Wizarding Communitity's memories and views of the family that had stuck so closely to the Dark Lord's side, and it did not clear their guilt over their own actions either. The indiscretions of years past were something they would each have to come to terms with in their own time and in their own ways.
For months after the war, Draco closed himself off from everyone, even his family who he held so dear, while he tried to work through the guilt and the memories that plagued him in his dreams at night. Battling his inner demons was no small feat, but he was doing everything in his power to find a way to move on, even though most days it seemed as though no amount of repenting would make a difference for what he had done.
Another night plagued with insomnia. This was nothing new by now, he'd grown used to the sleepless nights, but that didn't make them any easier to get through. The time he should have been sleeping was spent reliving the horrifying acts of the past. He often tried to busy himself with some small project or other to distract himself until he couldn't stay awake any longer.
Tonight was no different and he stayed up into the very early hours of the morning, mixing various potions for the sake of something to do that didn't allow for his mind to wander. Finally, Draco dragged himself to bed to get what few hours of sleep he may still be able to manage before he had to be up for the day.
When he awoke, he was immediately struck with a sense of panic. He was no longer in his bed, nor was he anywhere near his home. He was on the streets of a strange place, disoriented and confused.