Draco truly didn't feel fit to be a model. After all, didn't the job require at least a smidge of vanity? He couldn't find anything appealing in his reflection, but he'd been miserably failing at finding a job that would keep him, given his… Past. And when a talent agent had approached him, he'd fallen just short enough to reach desperation. And the money wasn't terrible either.
He had to assume his figure was pleasing to someone, because the jobs kept coming, and Galleons kept stacking. So he kept at it. It was the longest consistent job he'd ever held, and he couldn't exactly rely on Malfoy money forever. The regiment required to be in this line of work was a welcome distraction, too. If he focused on his physique with enough dedication, he could both be successful and avoid spiraling too far.
That he'd made it this far was surprising enough, but even more surprising was his chance encounter at the studio today. Hours later, and he still couldn't stop thinking about it.
What were the odds he'd ever lay eyes on the Chosen One again? Of course, he was aware of his athletic success, but actually seeing him in person was… Well, shocking seemed too gentle a term. He wasn't sure what he'd expected, but he'd never even considered what to expect should they ever cross paths. And it certainly wasn't catching him looking so damn… Hollywood. God, the man looked like a Greek god.
Draco sank deeper into his bath, half-heartedly trying to erase the memory from behind his eyelids. If anyone should model, it was Potter. It was only too easy for him to imagine what his body looked like under that tight suit. And he assumed that had been precisely the point of whoever had been working wardrobe that day.
It pissed him off, but when had Potter ever not gotten what he wanted? Precious little Chosen One, he snarked internally even as his imagination drew him what was likely a fairly-accurate depiction of him naked. A traitorous corner of his mind wished he'd taken a better look in the brief moment they'd shared, spent a little longer tracing the straining contours of his muscled shoulders. He sucked in a little shocked gasp as he realized he'd risen to attention.
"FUCK!"
Harry rarely went out anymore, but when it came to Hermione, he just couldn't refuse. She was busy enough climbing the rungs of the Ministry's ladder and building a life with Ron for him to ignore her requests for his company. Truthfully, he was grateful for it, even though she tended to stray onto topics he'd rather avoid.
"So, anything exciting happen recently?" she asked as she sipped her tea across from him at one of the more discreet diners he'd found. This was a precious haven where the staff weren't afraid to shoo away admirers and adamant fans. Harry grimaced down at his coffee, recalling his encounter with Malfoy.
"I… I saw Malfoy, of all people."
Hermione blanched slightly as she set her mug back down in its saucer. "Really? Where?"
"At a shoot." He scrubbed at the back of his neck anxiously. "Seekers Weekly did another interview and had me stand for an hour for the photos, and I ran into him on my way out."
"Well… I suppose that's not so surprising. How'd he look?"
Like he was hewn from marble.
"Fine. Seemed just as shocked to see me, but we didn't talk." I ran from him too quickly. Me! Harry fucking Potter, running from a prick like Malfoy!
Hermione hummed, eyes going unfocused as a crease formed in her brow. "It was bound to happen, I guess. You being a Quidditch star and him modeling for Quidditch gear."
"Malfoy modeling! " Harry scoffed. "I'll never wrap my head around it."
Hermione laughed, lifting her mug back to her lips with a little tilt of her head that said suits him, though, doesn't it? He wanted to be sick.
"Anyway, what about you? Anything new?" He lifted his own mug to his lips and took a sip as she seemed to brace herself. He frowned, lowering his coffee as he took in her shift in body language. "What?"
"We… R-Ron and I…" She studied him carefully, as if worried for his reaction. Harry only waited expectantly. "W-we're thinking about children."
Harry's entire world froze. For a long beat, he couldn't muster up a single thought. And then it shattered.
"W-wow," he choked. And cleared his throat. "Congratulations."
Hermione's lips curled reflexively, but her frown remained as she studied him. It only makes sense. They've been married for nearly four years now. And it's not like there's still some Big Bad out there making the world a dangerous place.
So why do I feel like crying?
"Brilliant," he reassured her, because she was still watching him with that worried frown on her brow. "I'm really happy for you guys."
"Thanks," she finally said. But it didn't sound convincing. Harry swallowed thickly and took refuge in his coffee for something to chase down the lump forming in his throat. "We were… Hoping you'd be their godfather."
That struck a little deeper. Harry took a shuddering breath, trying to retain his composure as he pictured the perfect life their child would have. Loving parents, a doting godfather, and nothing in the world to suggest any of them could be snatched away at a moment's notice. Safety. Security. Everything he'd been denied.
It wasn't his first time envying the families of his friends, simply because he had none. The Weasley household was always warm and bustling with life and love, and though he'd never met Mione's parents, he knew she had them, and a cough spluttered from Harry's lips. He cleared his throat again, scrambling for an excuse for this seemingly negative response.
"I'd be honored." His voice sounded strange to himself, but he tried for a smile. It briefly seemed strange to him that Ron hadn't attended this announcement, but quickly realized how emotional of a conversation this already was. And emotions were one thing Ron still struggled with. Not that Harry had an easy go of it either.
Hermione smiled, a bit more genuinely, and stood to join Harry's side in his booth, pulling him into a hug. "You're not losing any more people, Harry. You're gaining one."
"Yeah," he allowed as he returned her embrace.
Shit.
