I'll Play Your Game

Chapter Nine

A/N:

WARNING Chapter Contains: Implied Sexual Content (not explicit), Triggered PTSD, Accidental Sexuality Outing

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Harry performed another discreet locator spell, and then slipped his wand back into the back pocket of his borrowed jeans, pulling the back of his windbreaker over to hide it.

He sighed, and stepped back out of the alleyway he'd ducked into. Really, he should have asked exactly what record shop Draco worked at long ago in preparation for an instance just like this, but he stupidly hadn't thought of it. He tugged awkwardly at the hem of the t-shirt of Draco's that he'd borrowed (which was slightly too small), and hoped Draco wouldn't mind that he'd borrowed some of his clothes. It wasn't as if he could go into Muggle London in robes, and Draco had finally gotten him to leave Dudley's old hand-me-downs at a secondhand shop. He'd contemplated using a charm to make the shirt just a tad looser, but he thought Draco would probably kill him if it never fit quite right again.

He walked briskly down the street in the direction his wand had pointed, keeping his eyes peeled for a record shop. Just as he was about to find another alleyway to duck into to check again, he spotted a small shop, overshadowed by both of its neighbours, but displaying several dusty records in the tiny display window.

The bell over the door chimed as he stepped into the dim shop, and the attendant behind the counter looked up from his mobile briefly, before going right back to texting.

Draco had a similar-looking phone — small and silver, with buttons that made tiny clicking noises when he pressed them. Harry hadn't the faintest idea how he'd spelled it to work around all the magic in their flat, as it seemed a tad more complicated than a coffee machine.

He had only rolled his eyes when Harry had asked and said, 'Well I really didn't have a choice — my coworkers have to have some way to contact me, so I had to figure it out.'

Harry hesitantly approached the counter, though the man behind it still seemed absorbed with his phone and was paying him no mind. "Er, sorry, but is Draco working?"

The man looked up again and sized Harry up suspiciously. "Who's asking?"

Harry was taken-aback by the level of suspicion, but he supposed it might be a good thing that the man cared enough to be wary of anyone asking for Draco, considering he probably knew Draco was undocumented. "Oh, erm, my name's Harry. I just-"

"Harry?" Draco walked out of the back room and stopped short. "What are you doing here?"

"Zylphia closed up the shop early. Bad day," he tapped his leg, and Draco grimaced in sympathy. "Thought we might be able to eat lunch together."

Draco shook his head, but walked toward him. "Well your timing is impeccable — I was just about to leave for my break." He tsked. "I'll have to brew—" he cut himself off, and his eyes darted over to his Muggle coworker behind the counter. "Uh...bring her some more...pain medicine."

Draco shifted himself closer to the door, hoping Harry would get the hint that it probably wasn't a good idea to continue talking in front of Muggles.

"She said she's got plenty, otherwise I'd have...gotten some for her."

"Still." He turned toward the door, hoping Harry would follow his lead.

"Oh, you're Harry Harry," a voice behind him said. Oh great, now there was going to be more conversation.