Date: Friday, November 17, 2000
Time: Morning-ish
Location: Hogsmeade
Characters Involved: Luna Lovegood, open to one and all! Huzzah, huzzah!
Rating: G
(
In February, it would officially be three years that Luna Lovegood had worked at Hopping & Aperture's Expert Portraiture... )
But, not so many were stopping to chat. Harry had, and a curious elderly husband and wife duo who had taken it upon themselves to enrich Luna's knowledge with the history of the buildings she was photographing.
These would make a lovely photo book, Luna was now thinking. She wondered if she should tell Frances and Barry? They were always brainstorming interesting business ideas (granted, part of their motivation was annoying Mr. Hopping).
Oh, but yes. Not so many were stopping to chat, so she was just a bit surprised to hear a voice right behind her. She didn't react right away, not thinking it was her who was being addressed. But when no one else answered, she turned and saw the young man staring back at her. Why did he look familiar?
"Oh, yes. Though it is a bit cold, standing here...." She stared at him vapidly. "Are you?" Having fun, that is.
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How odd, the way she had just changed subject like that. The way she stared and blinked and spoke, it all suddenly seemed familiar but he still couldn't place her. Even her blond hair was tugging at his memories, as if he really should know who she was. Maybe he had met her at that one ball, the one with that spectacular muggle artist who's painting had wept tears to the soundtrack of what had surely been angel's song? Although he could be wrong, he couldn't quite remember that night properly. And honestly what would a witch have been doing at a muggle party anyway?
Having no patience for riddle games, he announced himself with a broad smile, "How rude of me. I haven't introduced myself. Adrian Pucey, my dear."
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"Luna Lovegood. Pleasure to meet you." He seemed pleasant, and she thought it was cute that he called her my dear.
She blinked. "Did you want me to take your photo?" After all, that's why most people were stopping. "I suppose I could, but you could have a professional portrait done at the studio where I work?"
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"Oh, no no no. I don't need a picture. Not that I wouldn't be a perfect model. I just thought you might be a photographer, which obviously you are. But I thought maybe you were taking photos for artistic purposes-not saying that you aren't an artist- but since you work for a portrait studio, maybe you aren't currently taking photos for pure enjoyment, or maybe you are and I assumed wrong." He ran a hand through his hair, more than aware that he had ran off at the mouth yet again.
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