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You never expected your little photography hobby to lead to this. It had started innocently enough—Ginny Weasley needed professional photos for the Holyhead Harpies' recruitment scouts, and your reputation for capturing magical movement with perfect timing had reached her ears. But somehow, between lighting adjustments and pose suggestions, the session had evolved into something... considerably more artistic. More intimate.
The photos turned out brilliantly. Ginny's fierce confidence translated perfectly to film, each image capturing both her athletic prowess and undeniable beauty. You'd been professionally detached throughout, despite the increasingly revealing nature of the shoot, until the very end…
"Wrackspurts don't like you much, do they?"
The dreamy voice startled you from your thoughts as you organized your portfolio in the empty classroom you'd been allowed to use as a temporary studio. Luna Lovegood stood in the doorway, her radish earrings swinging gently as she tilted her head.
"I... what?" you stammered, hastily closing the portfolio containing Ginny's more private photos.
"Wrackspurts. They cloud the mind, you see." Luna drifted into the room like morning mist. "But yours is clear. That's why your photographs see what others miss." Her pale eyes fixed on your portfolio. "Ginny showed me."
Your face burned. "She showed you those?"
"Oh yes. They're lovely. You made her look like herself, only more so." Luna smiled. "I'd like you to photograph me too."
The request hung in the air between you. Luna's directness always caught people off-guard, but there was something disarmingly innocent about her even when discussing something decidedly not innocent.
"I've never been properly seen," she continued, picking up one of your cameras and examining it with curious fingers. "People look at me, but they don't see. Your camera sees."
And that was how, three days later, you found yourself trudging through tall grass in a windswept meadow near the Lovegood home, equipment slung over your shoulder, following Luna's skipping form ahead.
"The light here dances differently than anywhere else," she called back to you. "Daddy says it's because of the convergence of ley lines, but I think it's because the hills remember old magic."
The meadow stretched in all directions, dotted with wildflowers that seemed to glow in the afternoon sun. Luna stopped at the crest of a small hill and turned to face you, already beginning to strip off her grey sweater.
"Luna," you began uncertainly, "we should discuss boundaries—"
"Boundaries are just where two things meet," she said, now unbuttoning her shirt. "Like horizon lines. Not endings, just meetings."
"OK, agreed, but... maybe lets go a little slower? Start with the, um, uniform on first?"
She thinks for a moment, and then says, "You're right. Let's let it all unfold in a more delicious way."
You swallowed hard and began setting up your equipment, trying to maintain professionalism as Luna stretched out among the wildflowers. She spoke about the properties of each flower as you worked, explaining which ones kept away various magical creatures and which attracted others.
Through your viewfinder, she transformed. The dreamy quality that made others dismiss her became ethereal grace. She wasn't posing—she was simply existing, and your camera was privileged to witness, as she slowly stripped off her clothing piece by piece.
"Next, I want to show you the Black Lake," Luna said as you packed up. "The giant squid is quite photogenic if you catch him in the right mood."
The Black Lake session proved even more surreal. Luna waded into the shallows, the setting sun silhouetting Hogwarts castle behind her. She spoke softly about the merpeople's singing that only resonated on certain moon phases, and how water remembered every face that had ever been reflected in it.
"Do you think it remembers yours?" she asked, water droplets clinging to her eyelashes as she gazed up at you.
Her Ravenclaw dormitory followed—empty during the holiday break. Luna's space was immediately identifiable: the bed with the hand-painted ceiling above it, strange artifacts collected on the nightstand, and a dark red comforter that stood out among the blue-dominated room.
"It's for warmth," she explained, noticing your gaze on the comforter. "Red holds heat better than blue. And dreams need warmth to grow properly."
In the greenhouse, among exotic magical plants, Luna spoke about symbiosis while posing beside venomous tentacula that seemed unusually docile in her presence. Professor Sprout would have had a fit if she knew what was happening among her precious plants, but Luna insisted that the plants enjoyed the company.
The Forbidden Forest was where you hesitated most strongly.
"It's not safe, Luna."
"Few beautiful things are," she replied simply, leading you to a small clearing where thestrals gathered. You could see them too—a shared understanding that passed unspoken between you.
Luna's nude form among the thestrals created the most hauntingly beautiful images you'd ever captured. She spoke to the creatures in whispers you couldn't quite catch, her hand stroking their leathery wings without fear.
It was late evening when you returned to her dormitory to review the photographs. Luna sat beside you on her bed, shoulder pressed against yours, the warmth of her skin distracting as you flipped through the magical photographs.
"You see me," she whispered, watching her own image move in the photographs. "Not just my body. Me."
You turned to respond and found her lips meeting yours, soft and tasting faintly of the dirigible plum she'd eaten earlier. The camera slipped from your fingers onto the soft red comforter as Luna pulled you closer.
"The nargles told me you'd be worth waiting for," she murmured against your mouth…
