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If someone told Cormac McClaggen five years ago that he would not be a rising star in either the Ministry or the Quidditch arena, he would have argued.
If they had shared that he would instead be a high-profile photographer in the Muggle world, he would have blamed a strong Confundus.
If they were so bold as to inform him further that a good portion of his success was due to Draco Malfoy being his most frequent subject, he would have claimed Imperius.
But the Cormac from five years ago was a right twat, and this version was quite chuffed at the reputation he had carved out for himself (and Draco), even if it was something he had never expected.
If the War with Voldemort taught him anything, it was that everything could change in an instant. Even though he was a Gryffindor, he still wasn't a hero. And in the battle's wake, the wizarding world wanted heroes, real or imagined.
So he'd tried to stand out.
And then he'd been spotted publicly with another wizard in a Witch Weekly scandal. Which was not exactly the type of standing out he had hoped to achieve. And while most of the magical world didn't care about gender and partners, the pureblood McClaggen clan cared very much about it when it came to family mergers and betrothal contacts.
It had been a public, messy debacle that ended with him ousted as family heir.
So, after a year of stumbling drunkenly in and out of dodgy pubs and rubbing elbows with others who had fallen from grace, Cormac found himself attempting to start fresh in the Muggle world.
He'd seen the glossy pages and larger-than-life adverts and was vain enough to think he had a shot of being one of the lucky few to grace their covers. He thought life as a model would suit him just fine.
His face, upbringing and hubris had been enough to get him in the agency door. And then promptly escorted right back out of it.
What little was left of his dignity had been shredded like paper through a machine. They said he wasn't tortured enough, wasn't striking enough: a pretty face but a dime a dozen.
They wanted someone with substance. They wanted someone else.
He'd heard those things before.
He'd been lost.
Until he picked up a camera on a whim.
From the first click of the shutter, Cormac found what he was meant to do. It was a rush, that feeling of rightness being the one seeing others instead of trying to be seen.
And if he wasn't what they wanted in front of the camera, then he was damn well going to be who they needed behind it.
And he knew just the person to help him achieve that.
A month later, Cormac strolled back into the agency offices, bravado firmly in place and a slightly panicked Draco Malfoy trailing behind him.
They signed a deal immediately. And Cormac, who learned the subtle art of negotiation at his Uncle Tiberius's knee, made sure they were paid handsomely for the endeavour.
As luck would have it, they were both excellent at what they were being paid to do.
Which brought him to the present.
"Malfoy, you have five minutes to get your arse in front of my camera, or I'm going to find another blonde," Cormac griped as he snapped test shots and checked the lighting for the final time. "One who isn't a pain in my arse."
Malfoy just huffed and rolled his eyes, not making a single bit of effort to hurry or listen at all. "You like my arse."
Cormac rolled his eyes, "still doesn't make up for having to put up with the rest of you."
Draco smirked as Karina, the makeup artist, finished applying the final touches to his look. He winked at her and whispered loudly. "Yes, it does. My arse is fantastic, and the entire world knows it, especially him."
The star-struck girl just giggled.
"Malfoy, are you finished being insufferable?" Cormac snapped. "We have an hour to get this shot before we need to be on a plane. I'm not flying commercial because of the likes of you." He stepped back and then moved one of the fluorescents a smidge to the left to have the shot framed perfectly.
Draco, finally realizing that Cormac had passed the point of flirtatious exasperation into actual annoyance, quit messing around and made his way over to his mark.
He trailed his fingers lightly over the back of Cormac's neck as he passed by and squeezed his shoulder in an act of fondness. It was as close to an apology as Draco would ever give, and Cormac smiled against his wishes.
"Alright, Mac, you can stop huffing now," Draco batted his eyelashes. "I'm ready for my close-up."
The second Draco stepped on his mark and Cormac got in position, everything else fell away. This was a dance they had performed countless times, one they knew every single step to.
It was the kind of magic you couldn't capture with a wand or a spell.
They worked together flawlessly, Draco tilting and posing just from a lift of Cormac's brow or a twitch of his fingers. Their playful banter changed shape as they continued to flirt without words, and that was always when the actual art shone through.
Sure, they both worked with other professionals in the industry, they had to in order to be at the top of the pack (and they were the top of the pack).
But there was always something special that happened when it was just the two of them, the camera between them, lights surrounding them.
Everything just clicked.
—**—
It was moments like these that he liked Malfoy best. Not buttoned up, smirking under the harsh studio lights, or strutting down the highest fashion runways, but here. Naked and pliant, pressed into the mattress, clothes strewn across the expanse of Cormac's flat.
Moments when Malfoy turned into Draco and the smiles he smiled to the world shifted into something private, something genuine that Cormac knew was for him and him alone.
That striking picture was what he needed to capture with his lens. He wanted this moment emblazoned in print, not to give to the world but to keep only for them. He wanted to freeze-frame this soft, handsome, captivating Draco so that he could always look back and know that this was real.
The subject of his musings cracked open one silver eye, no doubt from feeling the weight of the mattress shifting beneath him and the fact that Cormac was disturbing his beauty sleep.
"What in Merlin's name are you doing?" Draco yawned, blinking at the window, the sky still the blues and purples of early dawn. "It's not even morning; come back to bed." Draco tried to pull Cormac down with grabby hands, but he resisted.
"Can't," Cormac huffed as he batted away Draco's wandering fingers and reached over his sleep-warm form. He grabbed his old Nikon, the one he used for black and white film, and ran a reverent finger along its edge. "I want to shoot you. The lighting is perfect this morning."
"Oh, it's the lighting you want, is it?" Draco smirked and stretched like a cat, his lithe muscles and tousled blonde hair fanning against the sheets. It was so effortless for him, this natural grace and charisma that finally wasn't overshadowed by families and madmen, and Cormac still couldn't help but puff out his chest just a bit at the fact that he had been the catalyst for the change.
"Yes, you prat," Cormac laughed, rolling up on his knees and fidgeting with the settings. He ignored Draco's hand creeping up his thigh. "Now, be a good muse and strike a pose."
Draco winked, and wordlessly moved into a sultry position, his boxers and Cormac's bite marks the only thing covering his skin. He ran a hand through his hair, shifting naturally as Cormac clicked away behind the lens.
No matter how many times they did this dance, it always sent a jolt of excitement through Cormac's veins at how Draco trusted him and how very far they had both come from scared teenagers being publicly outed at their lowest points.
Of course, they stuck together back then out of vanity and necessity. Even when they first relied on each other in a professional capacity.
Now, however…
"That's wonderful, Doll; just arch a little to the left," Cormac murmured, Draco reading his mind and direction seamlessly when they hit their stride. As they got more into it–Draco moving and shifting about just so— the murmurs of "perfect" and "that's it" were the only sounds between them.
And then, when the shots were taken, and the camera tossed aside, Cormac couldn't help the rush of affection for the blonde between his legs. He loved this part, too, when the whispers of appreciation took on a much different meaning.
"Yes, Draco, don't stop," Cormac moaned as the man in question took him in deeper. Draco just smiled—that megawatt grin of his on full display— as he bobbed on Cormac's length and hummed around him.
They got lost in this rhythm as well.
Now, they were so much more to each other than they would ever admit out loud. Which was okay because they didn't need words when they both knew it was the looks that counted most.
Cormac flipped them, hands on every part of Draco he could reach, biting kisses into the flesh of Draco's perfect arse, opening him up slowly, torturing them both with every slide of a finger and open-mouthed kiss on heated flesh.
Draco twisted in the sheets to look back at Cormac and arched just right against him, and that was all he needed as they both careened off the edge in pleasure.
For a while, the only sounds between them were beating hearts and planting breaths.
"What are you doing?" Cormac asked sleepily as Draco rooted around in the sheets after a few moments of catching their breath.
"Turning the tables," Draco smirked as he unearthed the forgotten camera and brandished it just out of Cormac's reach.
"Come on," Cormac groaned. "You know I hate being the subject."
"Tough."
To his surprise, Draco didn't immediately start snapping shots. Instead, he flopped back down and nestled halfway into Cormac's bare chest, lifting the camera with his free hand and pointing it down at both of their faces.
"Thought I might like to have one of these for myself as well." Draco looked at Cormac then with such open affection and tenderness that he had to swallow down a wave of emotion so strong it caught him off guard.
But, he saw that same look reflected in those bright silver orbs, and the surprise skyrocketed, as Draco looked at him like he was something special, something worth capturing.
Then he kissed Cormac's lips, shifted to get the proper angle and pressed the button.
And Cormac smiled as the camera clicked.