Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, Boots or any of the make-up brands mentioned here in any way shape or form.

...Pajamas...shirt...shirt...pants...shirt...underwear.

Shit.

Where was the...

How could…

No, no. Don't think. Don't think. Just get this over with. Wand. I need my wand. Where the hell did I put it? There!

Trunk packed, and shrunk in his pocket, Harry placed his wand in his wand holster and made his way to the exit. Once he reached the landing, with the exit in sight and not too far away, he took careful stock of the situation. Everyone was elsewhere (but close from what he could hear), and there was no guard by the door. He couldn't tell if they had a clear line of vision to the door, but he would bet they did. The question was, were they paying attention? And could Harry get away fast enough? He breathed in a harsh breath, and wiped his sweaty palms against his pants. Taking another deep breath, he flew past the shocked and furious occupants of the dwelling, and out into the bright, fresh air. But Harry didn't stop to smell the roses, he simply ran until he felt it safe to Apparate. Spells flew past him, and all Harry could think was: just keep running Potter. That and: I hope to Merlin these spells don't hit me. He could taste freedom, as he finally, finally, Apparated out of there and into a random alley somewhere in London that he had once wandered into as a child.

Harry knew if he really wanted to escape, he would need to become invisible. But that would take work; he needed to go to Gringotts and get money (he only had a few Galleons and some muggle cash on him). A disguise was also in order...Hang on...

Was that...? Yes, wasn't that a place he could go for such...disguises?

Harry joined the throng of people moving in that direction. He stopped just outside the store and hesitated. Was it worth it? He really wasn't certain he wanted to do this, but he was sure he wanted to live to a ripe old age. So Harry squared his shoulders, straightened his back, and arranged his face into an impassive mask. It made him seem like he actually belonged there. And that was an impressive feat, considering the...location. His breath quickened, and his heart rate picked up (though nothing showed on the outside) as he finally took in the name of the...store. Boots.

His steps echoed in the store. Was it just him, or did they seem obnoxiously loud? He surveyed his surroundings, and fingered his wand through his sleeve. You could never be too careful, he had learnt. A few customers browsed around. Harry strode (for he felt too slow a pace would incite conversation with the sales people, as would an uncertain gait) over to where he could begin his disguise - the makeup section - and blanched. A wall. An entire wall of makeup. Of weirdly named...objects, and tools. Bright colours, and strange devices. Where on Earth was he start?

Harry gulped, but was not stupid. He pretended to browse the shelves parallel to the wall stands. Skincare, he realised. He used the little mirrors and his peripheral vision to ascertain what the ladies were doing in the make-up section. A crease appeared between his eyebrows as they drew together. They appeared to be putting the product, from liquids to powders to pencils on their hands, necks and sometimes faces. He resolved himself to actually browsing the section when he realised he could not subtly see where the concealer section was located. He walked along, clueless, occasionally reaching out to grab an object, opening it, and putting it back when he realised he had no idea what it was. Why were there so many products? There was sheer to full coverage, that he could understand, but dewy, matte, liquid, powder, mousse, stick, and did he want SPF or not?

"Can I help you?" The voice came out of no-where and Harry jumped minutely.

"I'm…uh…just browsing, for my…uh…sister…for her birthday." He finished lamely.

Her look melded into a curious amalgamation of understanding and amusement. "Do you need some help?"

Harry debated with himself. Did he? "Uh," he cleared his throat, "yes please," he flashed her his most charming grin.

"What products were you after?"

"Concealer" he said resolutely, he knew that much. "I got everything else a few days ago. It's just this."

"Right" they lady nodded her head. "Well, do you know what brand she prefers? We have our own brand, and there's brands such as Revlon, Max-Factor, Covergirl, L-Oreal, just to name a few." She looked at Harry expectantly.

"…She never specified. Just the best I suppose. I have a limit of 10 pounds for the concealer if that helps?"

The lady turned a speculative gaze upon the rows upon rows of…stuff. "What's this to cover? Acne, under-eye-"

"A scar," he interrupted.

"Ok, well, I'll give you a few choices-"

No!

"-and you can pick the one that you think is the best." She flashed him a grin.

I bet you're enjoying my pain aren't you? The gleam in her eye said 'yes, yes I am'. Harry almost pouted.

"So here are four different concealers that are medium to full coverage. I have the lightest shade in each, so you can test them out, pick the best and get a colour that will hopefully match her. It's always a risk buying make-up blind…" she trailed off.

"She's about my colour, so that's perfect," he smiled. Cover your tracks, Potter.

"Well, I'll leave you to it." With one last smile the random sales-person walked off. Harry hoped there was nothing outstanding about him or their conversation that made her remember him.

Harry stood still for a moment before sighing and picking up the first concealer and reading the text.

Huh, antioxidants?

Harry's hand felt strange, and it was oddly uniform in colour. He had put some of the tester of each on his hand and rubbed it lightly until he couldn't see it. And then he realised he had forgotten what his hand looked like without the concealer, and so he deduced that as useless.

Harry scoured over his arms, eventually finding a few freckles that he then tried covering up; one freckle for each concealer. He decided that that was slightly more helpful, but he was still stumped as to which one exactly. Harry realised he had been there a while when he saw he was the only one in the aisle. He was not one to waste an opportunity, so he picked up the only one labeled 'full coverage' (plus 'contains antioxidants' and 'non-comedogenic') and quickly, surreptitiously, placed some over his scar.

Shit. Too much Potter. Harry rubbed for a bit, and spread it over his entire scar, only just realising that if the wizards were smart they could check the CCT footage. He wasn't too worried however, as most were muggle-ignorant.

Well, I suppose that's all right. He observed himself in the mirror. Just a tiny dab more and…there! Done. One covered up scar coming right up. Harry smirked. He looked down at the concealer and went and got one to buy, placing the testers back while he did so.

Harry strode over to the counter; however, the boxes that proclaimed they were 'hair dye' soon distracted him.

"If you're planning on going that colour, you might want to bleach your hair first," said the salesperson who seemed to have come out of no-where.

Harry looked at the man and said, "what?"

Fuck, I'm going to have to use the back door, I haven't been here that long have I? Harry thought as he heard the unmistakable sounds of the wizards who were after him. If only I could have popped in and quickly got some makeup.

With a sharp crack, Harry was gone.

A/N: When I started getting into make-up I realised how much there is to it, and then started getting frustrated when it came to fics where Harry simply went in and out with some concealer. I suppose its plausible doing that, but it wouldn't make a fun fic. So here's my little fun piece. It's purposefully ambiguous as to who's chasing him, but I always imagined it as him running away from the light wizards, the Weasley's or something, and I think this really influenced the beginning, so maybe not as ambiguous as I hoped :P

CD x