It's You [H.S.]

12.9 | Forever yours

With a playful glance down at his crotch - the pale blue isn't exactly forgiving - it's her turn to grin lasciviously.

"Follow me! Come on, for old times' sake...", she whispers, licking at the shell of his ear.

"Fucking tease!", he grits out, absolutely loving it.

Wrapping an arm around her waist from behind to keep her close, he nudges his hips into hers to encourage her forwards.

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Relieved to make it to the photo booth uninterrupted, and without needing to queue, Harry casts a surreptitious glance over his shoulder to scope out whether they've been spotted, so doesn't notice when Eloise pulls up short in front of him.

Crashing into her back, it's a good thing he already had an arm around her waist.

Hearing her shocked intake of breath, he recovers quickly and looks up.

He's equally as surprised to find Niall, with a lapful of Malin - both entirely too distracted to realise they have an audience.

Reaching around Eloise, Harry clamps one hand over her mouth as he quietly tugs the curtain closed again with the other, then backs them slowly away.

Spinning her around, he has to stop himself from laughing at her expression - totally surprised, but giddy with excitement.

"How fucking poetic is that?", she whispers gleefully.

"Shh!", he interlaces their fingers and tries to pull her further away, to leave them in peace, but she holds firm and tugs him back.

"No, we have to stand guard for them! Especially with James bloody Corden about". Lessons learnt the hard way, and all that.

They back up a little further, but stay close enough to be able to keep an eye on both the photo dispenser and anyone approaching.

Just as Harry succumbs to the temptation to pass the time with another kiss, they're interrupted again; by Niall, fittingly enough.

Popping his head surreptitiously out the black curtain, his hushed "Oh, fuck!", breaks them apart.

Both lolling their heads towards him with matching, knowing smirks, he repeats it again, hanging his head.

The blush rapidly colouring his cheeks belies his sassy eye roll. "Oh, fuck off, both of ya'!".

"Hey! We didn't even say a word-", Harry protests, despite not being able to wipe the smug, shit-eating grin off his face.

Niall cuts him off with an awkward laugh. "Well don't! Just shut your trap and let's dance", he hisses before ducking back into the curtain to drag a wide-eyed, tipsy, Malin out behind him. She's grinning bashfully too.

With an uncontainable squeal, Eloise throws an arm around her cousin's shoulders to steer her towards the dance floor. They whisper and giggle like school girls all the way.

Their boys follow more than eagerly behind, nudging and playfully scrapping with brotherly affection.

>

After tearing it up on the dance floor, the party eventually draws to another temporary halt when a drunken James wrangles the microphone from Alexa at the DJ booth, keen to tick off his final task as compère.

Fittingly enough, after another rendition of Bohemian Rhapsody - a raucous and enthusiastic mass sing-along - it's time to head downstairs to the main terrace.

A relatively drunk and disorderly gaggle, it takes a while for them to all file down the flights of that sprawling central staircase.

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