Twenty minutes later, Harry was walking out of the shop with four small albums in his bag ("They’re called singles,’ Maestro had said, exasperated), and feeling eternally grateful to the shop owner, who had allowed him to listen to song after song. He had humoured him when he’d hummed the tune of the song he most frequently heard playing in the Room of Requirement, and he had only rolled his eyes at Harry’s smug expression when his rendition allowed him to immediately pick out the correct piece. Harry didn’t quite know what he was going to do with his purchases - the idea of presenting them to Draco made him feel faintly sick with nerves. What if Draco didn’t like them? What if they made him feel even worse about his absent wife and son? Seeing Draco emerging from J. Pippins Potions, looking mildly frustrated, Harry pushed his concerns to the back of his mind - they could wait.