#model!harry

"How do you feel about Harry walking for another brand, wearing clothes designed by another designer?" he asked, leaning on the arm of his couch as if ready for a statement that he could use to spice up the interview.

"He really pulled it off damn well, obviously. The show was marvellous, the clothes absolutely stunning and the models killed it!" Y/n replied, realizing how disappointing that must have been for the media. "And, Harry hasn't like ...signed up a contract to walk only for Gucci and wear clothes designed only by me, you know? Like whatever he does, he absolutely puts his best into it, so it doesn't really matter who he is walking for until he decides to perform partiality and walk like a god for one show and bad for another" she finished, joining everyone else with the laughter.

She glanced at Harry once, just for some validation for what she said and immediately released the tension from her shoulders the moment he passed her that damn smile.

Graham passed her a 'well done' smile, sighing and letting out a "Hmm, nice."

He shuffled the question cards in his hands and almost in no time his head shot up with his brows raised so high that Harry and Y/n just knew that whatever was coming couldn't be so nice for them. It was, no doubt, everytime a question the answer to which could get them dragged if they were to answer it wrong

"I totally forgot about this!" He shrieked, chuckling a little what seemed like evilly. "Y/n," he dragged her name, looking at her with a playful expression that made the crowd laugh again.

She couldn't help but quickly go over everything that he could've found out about in her brain. With a straight posture, she let out a tense chuckle, adding to the humour unintentionally.

"Harry, here, is a well know good-looking young man, everyone knows that. But this week, he has been named the most handsome man! His face almost corresponds with the ancient geek measurement for perfect beauty and proportion. It's called the golden triangle, you see," Graham went off, not really showing where he is going with this.

Clearing his throat, he continued. "So tell me, y/n, what is it like to be dating the most handsome man in the world?" He asked and the crowd roared with hoots, cheers, and laughter.

Oh, it wasn’t as hard of a question as they were expecting.

Harry hid his face behind his hands, pretending to be blushing hard while kicking his feet.

"Umm... it's definitely hard because he's a narcissist. And, now it's pretty safe to say I'll forever hate you for telling him this and blowing his ego off the roof," looking at Harry she grinned. "But it's nice too, he's a lovely fella," she added, nodding along with Graham.

"Leave her, Harry. She doesn't understand how extraordinary you are!"

"Oh yeah, but Graham totally does! If you take any advice from me, H, let it be this one- choose Graham," Y/n said in a faux serious tone, patting Hary's knee while looking towards the crowd, breaking out laughing when Graham too pretended to blush.

"Oh stop it, you. We know you had him at 'H'," he waved her off, looking at Harry who had his hand over his heart.

"Okay everyone, this interview has been going on for more than 30 minutes now," Graham panicked looking at his watch. "Please say a huge thanks to my guests tonight, Mr. Harry Styles and Ms. Y/n Y/ln!"

"Now what should they say, Harry?"

"They should subscribe to this channel."

"There you go, thank you."

The crowd cheered for them as they bid their goodbyes and left the stage. At the back, both hugged Graham, everyone in a hurry due to the unexpected delay. "I just can't keep up with time around you two," he said, laughing as he hurried somewhere else.

Y/n knew something was off when Harry didn't act much about being the most handsome man as they were being escorted out of the building to their car. Then, on the way, sleep overtook her. Not being a morning person and having to wake up at 5 in the morning over that was not something she could cover up with caffeine.

It was when they were nearing their home that she woke up. Something stopped her from raising her hand, turning to see she felt something heavy on her preventing her from moving even.

Just tilting her head, she smiled at the sight. Harry had intertwined their hands as his body had fallen onto hers, his head on her shoulders with his lips parted.

Thinking about all the stuff she had to do, she forgot about his tiredness. With all the shows he had done the past week, and then having to proceed with a meeting every single day and even online interviews, he hadn't even had the time to relax other than just straight up passing out the moment his head would hit the pillow.

He looked so calm that she didn't wanna wake him but the car turned in the driveway and she raised her other hand to tap his cheek. "Wake up, darling," she spoke slowly, lingering her finger near his open mouth to wake him faster.

It made her laugh, how he smacked her finger away before blinking his eyes open. "Hello there," she greeted him, feeling a lot better after her nap.

But he grunted in return, slumping down further on her.

"We are home, H. C'mon, you can go back to sleep once we're in," she said as she opened her door and dragged him along with her.

Quickly, she appreciated the driver, wishing him a good night as Harry rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, walking towards the door slowly. "I really want to have a drink, my head hurts like it's been hit so hard," he mumbled as Y/n caught with him with her heels in her hands.

"It was probably hit hard when you were a child, considering you are pretty dumb now," she laughed, making a face at him when he clicked her on the head.

After some fumbling for the keys and failing more than thrice because Harry wouldn't stop pressing small pecks of kisses here and there on the skin that was exposed and near to him, Y/n finally pushed the door open and pretended to bang Harry on the head.

"Dear God! You will accidentally kill me someday!" He claimed, laughing when she almost wheezed while clutching her stomach. "We haven't even had a drink and you already seem drunk," he mumbled as he took off his shoes.

He walked on behind her while taking off his suit, swinging it over his arm as she was already onto pouring their drinks. She didn't need to ask what he wanted, it was always the same. Whiskey. And he knew what she'd take- white wine, no questions asked.

It was fitted in her system, that white wine freshened her up. No one knows where that came from, it just does.

Y/n passed him his glass, filled with some ice and his drink, and came to stand just opposite him with her arms on the countertop, just like his. "Cheers," she mumbled and took her first sip.

It wasn't long before they both finished their drinks and went to pour some more, sharing a guilty glance.

One drink turned into another and the distance between them began to decrease enough to make them buzz with some sort of excitement. Then the slurs turned into their mouths moving in sync as one pushed another's clothes off.

Her hair curtained their faces from one side as he picked her up, wrapping her legs around his hips. He climbed the stairs knowing there was a hundred percent chance they could topple over just because of the force they were enforcing on each other. His hands hungrily moved on her body and her hands tangled their fingers in his locks.

Turning on his heels to push open the bedroom door by his back, his feet carried them straight to the bed. Their mouths parted then, her chest heaving quickly as she lay on the bed, seemingly not sensing the importance of breathing while going for the side of his neck.

But Harry rose up just as her lips settled on his skin, chuckling sweetly at her confusion and look of helplessness.

He dropped down on his knees, on the cold hard ground.

Looking up at her as if she were a goddess, he cupped her knees and pushed them farther away from each other. The slight hint of her smell alone snatched his focused gaze from her confirming eyes, to where her drenched panties covered her center. 

Pupils darkening with each passing second, Harry placed his hand on her lower tummy, pushing down so that her hips slip, and her throbbing core grows nearer to him. "So fuckin' wet," he said in a voice so soft, and yet it sounded like a taunt.

A lopsided grin stretched out on his lips and carved out one of his dimples as raised his head up once more to take in her expression. Her eyes showered him in praise and begged him to go on, but her breath just hitched. He could tell she hadn't yet started breathing again as his cold hand started crawling up her knee, slipping up higher and closer with each drag of his palm.

His hungry fingers tapped and walked on her skin like a smooth metal ball bouncing up and down her body after slipping down from one's hand. Just as he hooked his finger on her panties elastic line, her thumb hooked itself on the other side and started pushing the thin clothing down. "Ow!" She exclaimed in a voice lower than a whisper when he slapped her hand away, clearly not expecting such harshness from the man who usually lays underneath her every time they're high on lust. 

"Don't do that again," he told her, almost frowning, before pulling the clothing down her legs in a rush he's never had before.

Inhaling deeply, he hooked his arms under her knees and pushed them up till his hands reached her boobs and the elbows just a tad above her hips. A small crisscross of his two limbs and she was flipped on her stomach. 

"Oh ...my god, H," she gasps, a chuckle leaving her mouth followed by a trembling breath. 

"Raise that ass for me, please," he asked her politely, waiting for her to oblige and let her ass rest in front of his sharp V-line. Smirking in contentment when she slowly, but surely, did so. He landed a quick slap to her asscheek before he turned and rested his back on the curve at the end of the bed, quickly hooking his arms around her thighs. 

He wanted to taste her first, just like she mostly does. "Ah, fuck," she shuddered as his tongue swiped between her puffy lips, separating them.

"So tell me, darling," he said, replacing his tongue with his thumb. "What's it like... having the most handsome man between your legs?"

“Alright, Potter. Just relax. And don’t look into the camera.”


“Where am I supposed to look then?” Potter asked, sounding a bit unsure.


“Just… to the side,” Draco said, mentally sighing. This was going to be a long day. Potter looked uncomfortable and tense. Draco needed him to be relaxed. At ease.

“Potter,” he said a little more waspishly than he had intended. It made Potter flinch. “Just try to think of something that will take your mind off of this. Something fun,” Draco said in a softer voice.

Potter seemed to think about it for a second and the tension visibly left his shoulders. At least a little. His eyes became unfocused and Draco wondered what he was thinking about. Slowly, Potter took off his robes, revealing the white shirt underneath. He began loosening his tie. Draco watched him and tentatively lifted the camera to his eyes. He didn’t want to scare Potter out of his thoughts. But even the sharp clicking noises of the camera didn’t seem to disturb Potter now. Draco’s eyes widened as he watched Potter slowly biting his lip.

Draco cleared his throat, to distract himself from the funny feeling in his stomach.


“Good, good,” he mumbled. “Um, I don’t know what the editor told you about this shoot, but it’s supposed to be very…”


“Personal. I know,” Potter said, his green eyes locking with Draco’s. Without breaking eye contact, Potter began unbuttoning his shirt. As he slipped it off his shoulder’s, Draco’s mouth suddenly felt very dry. Potter walked over to the bed in the far corner and sat down on it.

Draco followed him, mentally slapping himself, because his knees felt weaker with every step. 
Potter gave him one last glance, before one of his hands reached for the waistband of his trousers. He hooked his thumb into it, while the other hand began stroking his abs. His ridiculously delicious abs.


‘Dear Merlin,’ Draco thought, ‘this was a horrible idea!’
 He took several shots of Potter in this pose, concentrating very hard. ‘This is your job! Do not get distracted by him. He’s a git, remember?’

Feeling a bit more confident about his self-control, Draco said,


“Get your wand out, Potter.”


“Excuse me?” Potter spluttered, which made Draco smirk and roll his eyes.


“Your actual wand.”


“Oh.” 


Potter pulled it out of his back pocket sheepishly. He pointed it at the opposite wall, as if he was trying to hex it. A crease formed between his eyes. Oh, Draco knew that look, that scowl. It felt reassuring to see Potter with such a familiar expression. But at the same time, Draco wished he could make it go away. For good.


“No, no,” he said, stepping a little bit closer to Potter. “We’ve seen enough of you as the Saviour. I think we need something different…”


Okay, so Draco could have just told Potter what he wanted him to do. But Draco was curious how his skin would feel against his fingers. He wouldn’t get another opportunity like this ever again. Why not push his luck a little bit?!

But as he touched Potter’s wrist, he involuntarily shuddered. And… was he imagining things, or had Potter just failed to surpress a shiver himself?! 
Trying not to ponder on it, Draco moved Potter’s arm up above his head. He guided his hand to the back of his neck, his own hand lingering for just a second longer than necessary. While avoiding his eyes, he draped Potter’s wand-hand to his side, so that it was half-wrapped around himself.


“There we go,” Draco muttered. He took a few steps back, clutching his camera tightly.


“You’re good at this,” Potter said. There was no venom or animosity in his voice, no mocking tone. It irritated Draco immensely.


“Yes well, brainless, shirtless idiots are easy to order around,” Draco said through gritted teeth.
He was expecting some sharp retort from Potter. Maybe even another scowl. He did not expect, however, Potter’s face lighting up in a huge, genuine smile. Draco was so shocked, he released the shutter of his camera by accident.


“Why don’t we take a quick break?” Draco suggested, grateful that his voice didn’t sound raspy. Or at least too raspy.

He stormed into the bathroom, splashing his face with cold water. It did nothing to calm his racing heart. Cursing under his breath, he decided to get this thing over with as quickly as possible. Why, in the name of Merlin, did he have to be so bloody attractive? Stupid Potter! But no matter. 'Let’s just get two more poses and I’ll send him on his way.’

Nodding to himself, he marched back into the room. But as Draco reached for his camera, his heartbeat picked up yet again. Potter had gotten rid of his trousers and was sprawled on the bed. Sweet Salazar! He was only wearing pants now! 


It took Draco a moment to realise that Potter was holding something in his hands, studying it intently.


“What’s that?” Draco asked, cursing his voice for sounding so high.


“It’s a map,” Potter said grinning. 


“A map,” Draco repeated flatly, before taking a picture.


“Yeah.” Potter’s stupid grin widened. “It shows everyone at Hogwarts, where they are and where they’re going.”


Draco registered the words, but it took a second before the meaning sank in.


“You know, I used to stalk you with this quite a bit. Especially in 6th year.” Potter’s grin turned… shy? 
Was Draco going mental? But… no. Potter’s cheeks were definitely turning a bit rosy. Draco’s heart stuttered again at the sight.

“This looks… weird. Maybe you should put on some clothes,” Draco grumbled and grabbed the next best thing. It was Potter’s ugly Gryffindor-Quidditch sweater. Perfect! Draco watched with contentment as Potter’s chest vanished beneath the fabric. Yes, that was definitely better! Wait, why was Potter lying down again?

Draco could not keep his thoughts straight with Potter lying there like that. Like he was waiting to be taken. Shaking his head, Draco moved around the edge of the bed to get a better angle. When Potter grabbed the hem of his sweater and pulled it up, Draco nearly dropped the camera. Dear Merlin, that was even hotter than Potter being shirtless. Damn it! Draco had to act. Fast.

“Get up,” he ordered, gesturing wildly with his hand.
 Potter did as he was told, clumsily of course, and came to a halt right in front of Draco. Impatiently, Draco dragged the sweater over Potter’s head without warning. Potter didn’t complain. He just kept staring at Draco mutely.

Draco had to surpress the urge to reach out and trace his fingers across Potter’s chest. He was standing so close. Too close. Draco could practically feel the heat coming from Potter’s body. It tingled on his skin, sending little jolts of pleasure down his arm.

Draco shifted the tiniest bit closer. He wanted to feel Potter’s warm breath on his face…

When he did, his knees almost buckled. He could hear his pulse hammering in his ears now. For one moment he feared Potter could hear it, too. His tongue darted out to wet his now very dry lips and he watched Potter as his gaze flicked down to follow the movement of Draco’s tongue.
 Potter swallowed, his eyes widening. This was mad. Why was Potter affecting him like this? And was Draco affecting him, too? That was intriguing.

But Draco couldn’t think about that now. He had to collect his wits. So he took a few steps back, holding up the camera in front of his face. He had a job to do after all. He tried to remember what the editor had told him.


“Now, Potter. I want you to think of nothing but one person. The one person you want to be with right now.” Draco was proud how calm and collected he sounded.

He waited for Potter to react to his words, for his pose to change, for the expression on his face. All Potter did was furrow his eyebrows. 
Alright, maybe something else then.


“Think about someone you want to kiss. Someone… you want to touch.” 
Draco held his breath as he waited for Potter’s reaction. Maybe a sappy, goofy grin? Puppy dog eyes?


Instead, Potter bit his lip again. That bastard! Draco stared at the tantalizing sight. Bloody buggar! Why couldn’t it be Draco’s teeth sinking into that rosy flesh? He was almost sure Potter would taste amazing.

Just as Draco thought this couldn’t get any more torturous, Potter did something that made everything in Draco’s body stop dead. 
Potter lifted his right hand up to his face and placed it on his cheek. His touch seemed featherlight as his fingers moved down to his jaw, down his neck, over his collarbone, his chest - dear god - down his side, to his waistband… 
Draco couldn’t believe his eyes as he watched Potter’s hand disappear beneath that waistband.

Draco forgot how to breathe. He forgot about the camera in his hands. Hell, he couldn’t even remember his own name right now. Potter, touching himself, right in front of him… it made something in Draco snap.

Without thinking about consequences or anything at all, besides that beautiful man in front of him, Draco lurched forward, threw his arms around Potter’s neck and pressed their lips together. Everything went hot in an instant. Draco felt like every inch of him that was in contact with Potter’s body was burning up. But it wasn’t enough. He needed to taste him, too.

Slowly, he dragged his tongue across Potter’s lower lip, making both of them shiver. Potter made a low moaning sound at the back of his throat, which thrilled Draco, but it also made him suddenly and painfully aware of the whole situation. He released Potter immediately, pushing himself away from him, a horror-struck expression on his face. Oh no! What had he done? 


“I- I’m sorry.” Draco didn’t even think about the fact that he was apologizing to Harry bloody Potter right now. He was only thinking about the embarrassment, the impossible situation he had just put himself in. “That was very unprofessional of me.” True, Potter had been touching himself, but… that hadn’t been for Draco’s personal entertainment. 
With this realization, another unwelcome thought entered Draco’s mind. Who had Potter been thinking about while he had touched himself? Who had Potter been thinking about right before Draco had practically forced himself on him? These questions made Draco feel sick. He wanted to smash that person to pieces, whoever they might be.

Draco was so focused on his anger that he didn’t realize he had balled his hands into fists, his nails cutting into his own flesh. It was only when he felt something warm and soft on his neck that his mind snapped back to reality.

Huge green eyes were staring into his. Apparently, Potter had placed his hand on the side of Draco’s neck. But that couldn’t be right. Why would he do that?

“Don’t be sorry,” Potter whispered, “you are so much better in real life than I imagined you in my head.” 


It was not a good day for Dracos lungs. He held his breath yet again, as Potter pretty much jumped on him, making them both stumble backwards, onto the bed. On any other day, Draco would have been appaled at the thought of being trapped underneath Harry Potter like this. But right now, he couldn’t have been happier.

He almost squealed when Potter placed hot, open-mouthed kisses on his collarbone, working his way up to Draco’s jaw, to the edge of his mouth. Tentatively, he repeated what Draco had done to him earlier, tracing the shape of Draco’s lips with his tongue. Draco didn’t think twice before letting Potter’s tongue slip against his own and deepening the kiss. 


Potter was right, this was definitely better than anything Draco had ever imagined. Not that he had ever imagined making out with Harry Potter. Of course not. Come on! 
Yeah well okay, maybe once… or twice. After glimpsing Potter in the shower after one of their Quidditch matches. Whatever!

“You have enough pictures, right?” Potter panted against his mouth.


“I think so,” Draco mumbled. 


“Good. Because I’d rather keep doing this,” Potter said, pressing his lips more firmly against Draco’s. 


Draco definitely agreed. And besides - the editor was going to be really happy with his work, Draco thought while smiling against Potter’s lips. After all, he was getting exactly what she’d asked for.