The family arrived at Twilfitt and Tattings, at last, having escaped from the reporters successfully. Harry let out a breath of relief, then turned to his mother with a small tired smile.
"I'm never going out without Notice-Me-Not charms again," he commented, and the redhead let out an amused snort.
"I might do that as well," she replied, and although her voice was clearly playful, her eyes had a thoughtful but tired glint in them, signifying that she was actually contemplating the action.
Being famous was quite bothersome, Harry realised once again. He had been extremely well-known in his previous life, after all, and although in his current one he had managed to stick to the shadows, he still shivered whenever he remembered the times he walked in Diagon Alley after Voldemort's defeat.
Unless he had put on multiple appearance-altering charms on top of disillusionment charms, he would always be recognised one way or the other and be forced to hide after being hoarded for autographs and interviews, when he would Disapparate away into a nearby alley and hide himself so thoroughly, only Magic Sensors could ever find him, and those people were so rare most didn't even know they existed.
With the feeling of a palm on top of his head, he snapped out of his memories, lifting his head slightly and seeing Lily smiling at him proudly.
"You handled the reporters well," the woman praised him, giving his hair a slight ruffle of affection before lowering her hand, and looking away towards the other two's location, presumably towards her husband from the height her gaze was directed towards.
Harry turned around and his gaze met the other two who shared his blood, seeing just as tired as he was feeling at the moment. Even Rose, who loved her fame, hated being pestered by reporters non-stop. She was currently dusting herself off and checking her clothes for any damage or dirt, hair slightly puffed up from static electricity, and an annoyed expression on her face.
He didn't approach her, instead choosing to divert her gaze to his father, who looked surprisingly fine, not counting the slight discomfort on his facial features. Then, Harry remembered that James was a Pureblood from a wealthy family alongside the Head Auror of the Auror Department, meaning he was used to media attention, and the slight surprise he had felt wilted away as if it had never been there, and he walked over to his three family members, Lily having gone over to their location while he had been analysing them.
As he got closer, Rose noticed him from the corner of her eye and her face stiffened ever so slightly, but she didn't give off any other reaction otherwise, instead choosing to ignore him and stare into another direction as if he weren't there.
Harry didn't mind, in fact, he preferred her choice of action, and mirrored her action, turning his gaze to his parents who were talking quietly about their carelessness and countermeasures.
That was when he felt another presence approaching, and his body suddenly became much more active, his six senses tingling (because he was one of the rare Magic Sensors he knew about), but outwardly, he had no reaction, as if he had no idea of the person to his left located in the shadows.
The person -a male, he noted, as the smell of cologne hit his nose- came out of the shadows and into vision, causing James to tense slightly, while Lily's eyes darted to the movement immediately, and Rose snapped towards him in reflex, the man's now visible smile widening at the action.
"Welcome to Twilfitt and Tattings, Lord Potter, Lady Potter, Heir Potter and Miss Potter. How might I serve you today?"
Rose narrowed her eyes slightly at her different title, looking slightly agitated, but coveted it up soon and placed her usual haughty mask in place. Harry admired her ease at covering her emotions, knowing that she must have practised it a lot. He himself certainly had, as mimicking his expressions when he didn't feel the emotions for them was quite hard to perfect, even more so make look natural.
Lily was the one to answer, her face morphing into a polite and gentle smile.
"Good day, Mr Twilfitt. We came today to buy both formal and informal robes for Harry and Rose, as they seem to have outgrown their previous ones," she said in a pleasant tone, making the man nod his head with a small laugh.
"With their age, that's quite normal," he commented merrily, before clapping his hands slightly, then gesturing towards a door. " Do come to the fitting room."
The twins nodded, and walked into the room after the man, the door closing after their parents went in as well.
For the next few hours, they were fitted for clothes, and Lily chose any and every robe she found fitting for them, wasting money in Harry's opinion, though he did not assert his thoughts orally. His thinning patience was noticed by his father, but the man knew when not to interrupt his wife, so the boy had to differ through hours of choosing robes.
Just as they were about to finish, the bell chimed in the entrance, and Twilfitt excused himself, exciting the room to greet the newcomers.
Harry, finding that moment to slip away, exited after him sneakily, making sure nobody noticed his absence. He was thoroughly bored and fed up, and he didn't have enough patience to deal with his mother's obsession with colours right now.
Hearing two people conversing, he turned around and was surprised to see a blond family of three standing there, chatting with the tailor/store owner.
It seemed he wasn't the only one who noticed the presence of the other, as Draco Malfoy's eyes lit up slightly in recognition after spotting him.
Seeing that he was discovered, he offered the boy a polite smile and a wave, which was met with the other's face blooming with a smile before the waved him over.
Harry compiled, walking over to the family who had just taken note of him calmly and gracefully, not in the slightest bit uncomfortable about bumping into his family's enemies. Politics didn't matter to him at his current age, so he didn't care much about being seen with a political enemy, especially since the only one who would even blurt out the fact to others was Twilfitt, a man famous not only for his connections but also his secret-keeping.
When he was within talking distance, he politely greeted his schoolmate.
"Hello, Malfoy." They weren't close enough to be on a first-name basis, but they had converted a few times so they were on decent terms, especially with his distrust for Dumbledore the Slytherins knew about.
The boy nodded his head, his usual arrogant attitude there but repressed, probably because the boy felt it unnecessary.
"Potter." He acknowledged. "What a coincidence, meeting you here."
Harry chuckled lightly at the comment.
"I seem to have outgrown my robes, so I came for a fitting." He explained simply, the other boy cracking a smile at his words.
"The same as me, then." He then turned to his parents, who were observing his acquaintance curiously, and cleared his throat. "I should introduce you: mother, father; this is Harry Potter, the Heir Potter. Potter, these are my parents."
The three acknowledged each other with slight nods and bows, before starting polite small talk, like asking about their summers and schoolwork.
Around ten minutes later, the Potters exited the room, evidently having noticed his absence, and spotted him near the Malfoys, chatting. Both James and Rose looked horrified, while Lily looked over with slight worry.
Harry calmly called them over, and after a swift and unnecessary introduction to clear the tension, the family of four left the store, done with their shopping. As they exited, Harry waved goodbye towards the platinum blond boy with an apologetic smile on his face, earning himself a half-smile from the boy.
Well, it seemed the torture of choosing clothing hadn't been for nothing. Meeting the Malfoy's had certainly been a plus if he wanted to broaden his social circle.
That night, after a light scolding for associated with a family from the Dark Lord's faction, Harry went to sleep early, ready to meet the arms of sleep and be taken away into sweet dreams. He wanted to forget his extreme exhaustion immediately, and as he drifted off as soon as his body hit the bed, it seemed there was no need to yearn for it too much.
He saw his memories that night, going over a time of peace. Before shit had hit the fan, when Voldemort was gone and he simply lived, not to survive, but to live.
When he woke up, he didn't remember anything, but his shoulders certainly felt lighter than before.
