Disclaimer: Once upon a time, a lady from Britain created a magical world featuring a character known as Harry Potter. The End.

Beta: Obsidianwolf97

Pairings: Harry/Colin and Neville/Hannah

Warnings: slash: male/male, Post-DH, mild scenes of sexuality, and adult language.

Blank Film

"Absolutely not." Harry glared out the window of Hermione's flat, staring down at the bustling street in Muggle London.

"Harry, please!" Hermione begged.

"No, I won't do it. It's not my problem," Harry snapped as he spun around, pushing one hand through his messy black hair.

"Harry James Potter, these people need your support. It's only one photo shoot! It's for a good cause. You should have expected this when you came out to everyone," Hermione declared as she placed her fisted hands on her hips. Her eyes were glowing passionately.

"I will not be the poster child for bi-sexual wizards and witches," Harry said adamantly. "Not a bleeding chance in hell."

"It's only one photo shoot—"

"Yeah, and they'll strip me half-naked or down to my skivvies and drape half-naked men and women all over me!" he snapped, balling his hands into fists.

"Oh Harry—"

"And then they'll all be bragging about how they got to grope the Boy Who Lived. They'll give interviews on how nice my body is and what all my flaws are." He clenched his teeth and paced in small circles, arms gesticulating wildly as he became more agitated. "No thanks."

"But Harry—"

"And the photographers will take shots in between sessions and sell them off. I don't want people wanking off to photos of me, Mione." He wrapped his arms around himself, and there was a brief flash of fear and insecurity in his eyes. "I'm enough of an object as it is. Just leave it be."

Hermione sighed softly and pressed a hand to her lips, nibbling her thumb slightly. This really was an important campaign though! So many teenagers were afraid to admit to their sexuality; they worried that they'd be rejected by society and their families. It didn't seem to matter that all sexualities were accepted in the magical world, the fear still remained.

But if Harry would just be open and share a small piece of himself . . . perhaps the final stigma associated with homosexuality and bi-sexuality would finally die.

"Harry, I—"

"I said no, Mione, leave it alone," he ground out.

"—already accepted the offer for you," she whispered.

"What?" he asked in disbelief. He could feel his eyes widening but, for some reason, that didn't stop her lips from completing the previous sentence or starting a new one.

"It's for a good cause and so I—" Her hand had been pulled away from her mouth and she folded her arms across her chest, sure she'd done the right thing.

"I can't believe that you'd do something like this to me," he spat. Harry's body began trembling with rage and he bowed his head, allowing his fringe to hide the betrayal and pain that were flashing through his eyes. He was so bloody angry that he didn't even feel his fingernails biting into his palms as his hands clenched into fists. "Photography contracts are magically binding . . . fuck! I don't even get a choice." He looked up at her, shoulders slumped and eyes shining with devastating sadness. "I've never hated you before," he said, voice empty of all emotion.

She unconsciously took a step backward and gasped as the words seemed to pummel her. "You don't mean it..." Tears welled in her eyes, then spilled down her cheeks as those words resounded in her head.

"Just stay the hell away from me," he sighed tiredly. "I can't . . . just stay the hell away." He got to his feet and stalked out of his friend's flat. When he cleared the wards he Disapparated, knowing he only had a few hours until this fucking photo shoot was supposed to begin. And if he didn't have a choice about participating in it, then he'd do all he could to make the experience bearable.

He appeared outside the studio that would be hosting the shoot. Taking a deep breath, he forcibly wiped the scowl off his face, pulled open the door, and stalked inside. A witch had just come out of a door off to the right and a wide smile lit her face when she saw him. "Mr. Potter! You're early, but that's no trouble at all—"

"Look," Harry said, fighting not to snarl, "I really don't want to do this. I didn't agree to this; my interfering friend did." His hands were clenching and unclenching as he counted silently.

The witch's mouth fell open and she blinked in shock. She'd never seen the Boy Who Lived act like this before; he was always a kind and generous person. "The contract is—"

"Magically binding, regardless of whom accepted for me." He grimaced. "I'm aware of that."

"I can't cancel it, Mr. Potter," she said softly.

"I know." He lifted a hand and pressed it to his forehead. Damn it! Just what he needed, a fucking migraine! "Look, we'll be doing this my way, or we won't be doing it at all."

Her mouth opened and closed several times before she gasped loudly. "You'd lose your magic!" Her hands rose and she began fanning herself, trying unsuccessfully to clear her panic. Merlin, if she got blamed for the Boy Who Lived getting turned into a Squib... "What can I do?" she asked desperately.

"There will be no nude shots, and no shots were I'm in nothing but boxers," he stated adamantly. His jaw clenched and the veins in his neck stood out. "I suppose I have no choice but to allow shirtless photos."

"Very well, Mr. Potter," she replied. She'd hoped they'd get some tasteful nude shots, but then, she'd believed he'd entered the contract willingly as well.

"The only photographers that I'll allow to shoot me are Colin and Dennis Creevey," he added.

She spluttered loudly. She'd called in the best in the industry . . . so many famous photographers were going to owe her favors for this shoot! "You can't be serious, Mr. Potter! We have several professionals on staff and guest photographers that have—"

"I don't care," he snapped, finally losing his forced calmness. "I don't care about your professionals or your special guests who came from all over to see me naked. They could fucking die and it wouldn't affect me in the least."

She trembled slightly at the sheer anger directed at her. She knew in that moment she wasn't facing the Boy Who Lived; she was facing the Conqueror. "Colin and Dennis Creevey?" she asked quickly, hoping she'd gotten the names right.

"Yes," Harry replied. At least he could trust them not to take perverted photos between sessions and sell them off. They respected him, always had, and that respect had only grown when he'd saved Colin in the final battle.

"What if they're busy?" she asked, hoping she wouldn't be cursed for daring to ask something. She'd finally placed the names. The Creeveys had been doing freelance work for the past several years, turning down contracts with Witch Weekly and Wizards' Quarterly if the gossip column in the Prophet was correct.

"They'll come," he replied confidently. They'd be honored that he'd chosen them to shoot him. They may have annoyed him a lot when the three of them were in school, but they'd changed, matured, and grown up. He'd even tentatively call them friends. Besides, it was summer and Colin had graduated a few weeks ago. As far as he knew, Colin was still wading through all the job offers he'd received. They'd definitely be willing to shoot him.

She coughed lightly to regain his attention. "I hope the models we've chosen will be to your satisfaction." She'd used her position as Executive Officer of the company to get the best in the business – the models everyone was dying to be seen with.

"I don't think so," he replied, folding his arms across his chest as he smirked.

The color drained from the witch's face. "But Mr. Potter, they've all been handpicked because they'd look aesthetically pleasing next to you..."

"I don't care. I won't allow strangers to place their hands all over me and grope me so that they can claim they've felt up the Boy Who Lived," Harry replied. "I'll make sure to have people I feel comfortable being around here for the shoot."

"But you can't be seen with just anyone, Mr. Potter! You're—" She could see all of her hard work and planning vanishing before her eyes.

Harry growled loudly, which finally made the witch shut up. "I know exactly who and what I am. And the people that I have in mind are not 'just anyone'. Don't worry," he said with a sneer, "I'll make sure that they'll look, how did you put it? Oh yes, 'aesthetically pleasing' next to me." He turned and stalked back out of the building.

He Apparated to Potter Manor and entered his study. The bloody shoot was set to begin in three hours, and he needed to have suitable 'models' by then. Harry groaned and barely resisted the urge to bash his head against the desk – that wouldn't have helped his growing migraine. "Right, best get started then," he grumbled. He picked up his Ever-Inked Quill and grabbed some parchment, then settled down to plead for help from some of the few people he trusted.

He turned around several minutes later as a soft fluttering noise caught his attention and didn't succeed in hiding the wince on his face. Cephalonia was a beautiful and efficient owl, but she wasn't Hedwig. He sighed and beckoned her over, brushing his fingers across her amber feathers when she landed before him. "Deliver these as quickly as you can, girl," he said as he attached them.

She hooted once, nipped his fingers, and then shot into the air, winging off into the afternoon sunshine.

Harry sighed and buried his head in his hands, wishing that he could get out of this without losing his magic. Yet, he knew there wasn't a way. The contract was foolproof.

He grudgingly got to his feet and headed down to the dining room. The house-elves would have lunch out soon and he needed to eat if he was going to be posed and played with all afternoon. Yes, he'd have lunch as soon as he grabbed a Headache-Relieving Potion.

-

Harry reappeared at the studio exactly ten minutes before the photo shoot was scheduled to begin. He might have wished that he could be anywhere else, but he wasn't going to make the friends he'd asked to help suffer. He pushed open the door and glanced over to the right when he heard chatter.

He breathed a sigh of relief and approached the group that was seated on the couches and chairs. Silence fell as he approached and he smiled crookedly at them. "Thanks," he said as he rubbed the back of his head.

"This'll be an adventure, Harry. I don't mind," Luna said, dropping the magazine that she'd been holding upside-down.

"I can't believe she did that to you!" Neville declared. "I mean, we always knew she supported random causes, but forcing you to do this is cruel." His arms were folded across his chest as he spoke, defending his best friend as he always did.

"Thanks, Neville." Harry smiled softly, and then glanced to Neville's left. "Are you sure you don't mind?" he asked.

Hannah Abbott smiled up at him shyly, fingers fiddling with the hemline of her skirt. "You've done a lot for us all, Harry. Making sure you're not assaulted during this photo shoot you want no part of is the least I can do in return."

"Thanks, Hannah," he replied. He grinned widely at her; she really was perfect for Neville. Their personalities blended together perfectly and he didn't doubt that Neville would soon gather up enough courage to ask her to marry him.

A slight coughing sound made him spin around. He glanced down at the annoying witch from earlier as she gazed at his friends. "Which ones do you plan to include?" she asked, a cross between curious and resigned.

Harry gestured first to Luna, and watched as the woman scrutinized her. "She'll do. She looks like a Malfoy: pureblood, good breeding, a perfect contrast to your darkness."

Harry began counting silently once again. Dealing with this woman was an exercise in patience, and he didn't have much at the moment. "She doesn't look like a Malfoy," he said. "She looks like a Lovegood, Luna to be precise."

The witch's lips pinched, but she kept her mouth shut. She glanced over at Neville and grinned widely. "Neville Longbottom? Oh, he'll do nicely! Two war heroes in the same shot. That'll definitely help with—"

"I won't be part of the shoot," Neville said decisively.

She blinked in shock. "Why ever not? You'd look good next to him."

"I'm here to support Harry and keep Hannah company, that's all," Neville replied.

"Hannah?" she asked.

"That's me," Hannah said. She sat with her back straight as the woman inspected her from head to toe. The eyes raked over her, weighing her features.

"She won't do," the witch said smugly. Perhaps she could convince Harry to use some of the models she'd chosen after all.

Neville grasped Hannah's hand as she flinched back and Harry stared at the woman. The thunderous look on his face was only enhanced by the glare that was flaying her alive. "What could possibly make her unsuitable?" he asked, in much the same tone Severus Snape had always used to belittle him.

"She's not—well she's—that is to say . . . she's too ordinary," the witch finally managed to stutter out. "She's not beautiful enough for you."

Harry saw the tears welling in Hannah's eyes and the enraged look on Neville's face and completely lost it. "Hannah is one of the sweetest people I know. I trust her implicitly. She's devoted, and caring, and strong. She fought alongside us to defeat Voldemort." He smirked in satisfaction as the witch flinched and took a step away from him.

He lifted one arm and pointed at her threateningly. "I don't care if you think I'd look better with some pureblood bitch on my arm. I'd never be interested in one of those vapid women anyway. This campaign is supposed to be about reality, and not all women are purebloods, so accept my choice or I'm leaving," he spat.

"Of course, Mr. Potter, whatever you wish," she replied quickly, pale as a ghost.

The woman took a deep breath and turned to face Hannah. "My apologies." There was an awkward silence as her apology was ignored by everyone. Everyone present knew she was only apologizing because she was afraid Harry would leave, not because she really meant it.

"Did you hear back from Colin and Dennis?" Harry inquired, wanting nothing more than to get this whole thing over with. Merlin, she better not have decided to owl them late so they would tragically be unavailable.

"We're here, Harry," Colin said.

Harry turned and saw the look of hatred they were sending the witch beside him. She'd made more than one enemy today. "Thanks for coming," he said, muscles relaxing as he gazed into Colin's brown eyes. There was always something endearing about them; they were so soft, so honest.

"It's no trouble, Harry! We're happy we can help," Dennis replied, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

The brothers stepped forward, and hugs and handshakes were exchanged as the friends greeted each other for the first time in months. It'd been a while since they'd met at The Three Broomsticks, on the last Hogsmeade weekend, to drink some Butterbeer and chat. But as much as they would have liked to catch up, they had this annoying photo shoot to complete.

Harry sighed, frustrated. Damn magical contracts – they always fucked up his life. The last time he'd been bound by one Cedric had died.

The witch coughed softly and daringly met Harry's eyes, cringing the entire time. "Mr. Potter, this is a bi-sexual campaign and your models are all..."

"Female," Luna supplied, back arched as she hung upside-down over the arm of the chair she was in.

"Yes, female," the woman said. "I have several male models that will be happy to—"

"I bet they would," Harry grumbled bitterly. Who wouldn't want to be able to say that they'd been half-naked with Harry Potter and even got paid for it? "They won't be needed."

"Then someone is late?" the witch inquired. She barely kept the scream of frustration in. Not even one? He wouldn't let her use even one of the models that she'd spent thousands of Galleons booking?

"Not exactly," Harry said. His mouth pressed into a grim line as he contemplated his next words. He scuffed the toe of his shoe against the stone flooring and colored slightly, eyes following the motion. Finally gathering his courage, he glanced up and stared directly into Colin's chocolate eyes. "Uh, Colin, would you mind..." He was so nervous he couldn't finish the question.

Colin's eyes blew wide in shock as he stared at Harry. "Harry?"

"I mean you don't have to and—"

"Do you want me to?" Colin asked, teeth sinking into his lower lip. A light dusting of pink appeared on his cheeks as he waited for Harry to answer.

Harry glanced at the ground then back up at him. "Well, I figured you wouldn't try to..." He stopped and brushed a hand through his already messy hair. He knew that Colin was bi-sexual, hell, everyone in Gryffindor knew. He didn't want to take Colin for granted, but he didn't like the thought of unknown wizards touching him.

Colin walked forward and paused right before Harry. "I would never do that," he said clearly. His voice was completely serious for once, no trace of humor or teasing to be heard.

"I know," Harry mumbled as he scraped his shoe across the floor.

"I don't mind, Harry," he said softly.

Harry's head snapped up and relief flashed through his eyes. "Are you sure?"

The seriousness left Colin's face and he clasped both of his hands over his heart. "Oh God! The chance to touch The Harry Potter! How could I resist?"

Harry snickered softly. "Prat," he said fondly. He faced the group as a whole and took a deep breath. "Well, let's get this over with then."

Whatever the witch's opinion on Colin as a model was, she wisely kept her mouth shut. "Well then, the studio we'll be using is this way," she said as she turned and led them down a long hall. The room they entered was large, and there were props and clothes neatly placed on shelves and racks.

Harry groaned, knowing that the next several hours would be pure torture.

He was right.

He'd spent over an hour changing from one overly expensive and complicated outfit into the next for the first part of the shoot. Luna had been with him in every picture, looking every inch the pureblood lady. Her hair was styled in ways he had no names for, and his was flattened against his head—which reminded him of Malfoy—much to his disgust. The robes were ornate and traditional, and the jewelry was audacious and extremely overdone. He remembered vowing more than once to never wear formal robes again.

The session with Hannah was more comfortable for him. Not because he liked her better than Luna, but because he found the clothes to be more comfortable. The loose-fitting trousers and designer t-shirts looked good and were more to his taste. Hannah seemed to enjoy it once Harry convinced her to ignore the witch's heartless words. There was nothing wrong with his friend's girl, and he wasn't going to allow her to think there was.

The only slightly uncomfortable part was when they were doing bathing suits, and that was because both of them felt awkward wearing so little when Neville was present. Neville had to assure them more than once that it was all right with him. He trusted his girlfriend and best friend and knew that there was nothing between them.

"I need a break before we start the last session," Harry said after Dennis and Colin had called an end to the shoot with Hannah. He walked over to the nearest chair and collapsed in it, groaning in pain. His shoulders were beginning to ache fiercely from all the positions he'd been coerced into. He jumped slightly and twisted around when someone grabbed his shoulders. "Colin?"

"Turn around and let me help," he ordered.

"Right," Harry mumbled, cheeks flushing slightly. He whimpered when Colin's fingers began massaging his shoulders, loosening the knots that had started to form. "S'good." He moaned in pleasure as those nimble fingers worked across his flesh. It felt so good! They slowly stopped moving, and Harry opened his mouth to thank Colin when he felt a pair of lips press gently against the back of his head. "Colin?" he squeaked.

"I'm so sorry, Harry! I didn't mean to—" Colin gasped and pulled his hands away immediately, turning his gaze to the floor.

"Colin!"

"And after I told you I wouldn't—"

"Colin!"

"I've just loved you for ages now—"

"Colin?" he gasped in shock.

"I didn't plan to take advantage—"

"Colin!"

"Can you ever forgive me?" Colin asked tearfully, his eyes still trained on the floor. His fingers were clenching and unclenching, forming fists that turned white from the pressure.

Harry got up from the chair and walked around it until he was directly in front of Colin. He wasn't aware of all the eyes focused on them, and even if he had been, he wouldn't have stopped himself from doing what he did next. Harry lifted one hand and hooked it under Colin's chin, guiding his head up. His heart ached when he saw tears in the soft brown eyes that should always be happy.

"Colin," he said in a commanding tone.

"Yes," Colin whispered, cringing as if he expected to be punched in the face or yelled at.

"Would you like to be the first man to ever kiss The Harry Potter?" he asked nervously. He'd been aware he had growing feelings for Colin for months now, but he'd kept them to himself because he thought Colin had finally gotten over him years ago. But that tender kiss...

Colin gulped. "What?" His voice broke and his tears dried up quickly in shock.

Harry leaned forward, pressing their foreheads together. "Can I kiss you?"

Staring into Harry's eyes adoringly, his reply was so soft it almost couldn't be heard. "Uh huh."

Harry grinned widely and leaned in. His lips met Colin's in a gentle kiss. It was chaste and innocent, and the tenderness they showed one another spoke more than they could adequately express with words. Harry slowly separated their lips and leaned back, lifting one hand to run it lightly through Colin's wavy golden-brown hair.

"Colin?" Harry asked intently.

Colin shook himself visibly and stared up at Harry with so much happiness and love it must have been painful. "Yeah?" he replied.

"Would you like to be the first man to ever date The Harry Potter?" Harry asked.

"No," Colin replied instantly, mouth set in a determined line. Harry reeled back as if he'd been slapped and his hand fell from where it had been stroking Colin's cheek. Colin grabbed it before Harry could pull away and said, "I wouldn't mind being the first man to ever date Harry though."

"I can live with that," Harry whispered, a smile on his face, before leaning back in to claim Colin's lips once more. They held each other close and continued to gently explore each other's mouths for several minutes. They only stopped because Luna reminded them they still had a photo shoot to complete.

Forty-five minutes later, Harry was seated on the floor with his back against a plain white wall. He was clad only in frayed Muggle jeans, naturally worn in all the right places; the hems were little more than strings now. Colin was identically attired and his back was pressed firmly against Harry's chest. Harry's legs were spread apart, with Colin's left leg cocked and bent over his own left leg. He had one arm wrapped possessively around Colin's waist, and the other grasped Colin's thigh firmly. Both of Colin's arms were pulled back and entwined in Harry's hair. Harry's head was perched on Colin's shoulder, and Colin's head was tilted to the side so that they could almost look each other directly in the eyes.

"Kiss," Dennis ordered.

Harry didn't even consider objecting. He leaned forward that last little bit, which made Colin's hands fist and pull at his hair. His lips brushed against the edge of Colin's lips, and he couldn't stop the moan from escaping his lips.

He was aching and burning, and was about to lose his patience with this whole thing; it was worse than the Cruciatus Curse. He was being tortured by Colin's closeness, feeling all that smooth skin and knowing he had no right to caress it, not yet, not until he could return Colin's vow of love.

"We're done!" Dennis called.

As Luna, Neville, and Hannah said goodbye and left, Harry kept his fingers firmly wrapped around Colin's. He knew Colin would have to head home soon, but that didn't mean he actually wanted to let Colin go. He had this overwhelming, possessive urge to Apparate somewhere with Colin in his arms and never let anyone else see him.

Harry gave the witch a narrow glare when she finally released him, declaring that the contract had been fulfilled and he was free to go. "I hope to work with you again in the future, Mr. Potter," she said. Even with all the hassle that he'd brought with him, his face would still greatly aid the campaign.

"I wouldn't count on that day ever appearing," he replied decisively as he tugged on Colin's hand and followed Dennis out of the room.

The sun had already set by the time they got outside, and Harry couldn't decide if it was the best or worst day he'd had all year. For all the horrors, it certainly had its redeeming points. He gazed down at their joined hands and lifted Colin's hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss against the skin there.

He gazed at those rosy cheeks and then up into those shy, but pleased, chocolate eyes. The rest of his life lay out before him like a roll of blank film. And if Colin was either behind the camera, or at his side in the pictures, he knew he wouldn't mind filling the frames.

-End-