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The Hogsmeade Camera Club	By : Dazzlious Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 17401 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from J K Rowling's fantastic books or films, I'm just borrowing and playing with them for a little while and get no monetary reward for doing so.

Chapter List
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A/N: This story is set five years after the Battle of Hogwarts. As always thank you to my lovely beta, Mamacita, and thank you to you for reading. Dx

Hermione picked up the envelopes that lay on the mat, flicking through them curiously as she used her foot to kick the front door shut. She left most of them on the table, knowing they were bills, but there was one envelope she didn’t recognise. She turned it over and looked at her name and address written in perfect copperplate script but didn’t recognise the handwriting at all. She kicked off her high-heeled shoes, relieved to lose them, and wriggled her toes for a few seconds, putting the mysterious envelope with the other post on the small table to her left while she removed her cloak and hung it up on the coat hook by the door. She picked up the envelope again and began to scan it once more as she made her way through the lounge towards her bedroom, turning it over and over in hopes that she might spot some sign of who had sent it. She had always been wary of unexpected post ever since Rita Skeeter’s smear campaign against her in the Daily Prophet had caused her to receive an alarming number of scary and even downright dangerous letters during the Triwizard Tournament in her fourth year at Hogwarts; she knew the most innocuous-looking of envelopes could contain the worst of curses. She dropped it on the bed, then opened her handbag and rummaged around in the depths for a moment to find her wand.
‘Revelio,’ she said as she pointed it at the envelope.
The envelope glowed blue for a moment but nothing else happened. Hermione prodded it with the wand, flicking it over just to be on the safe side, but apparently the envelope was just an envelope and contained nothing out of the ordinary.
Hermione left it on the bed and began to undress, making her way into the small bathroom where she turned on the shower as she finished removing her clothes. She folded them neatly and put them on top of the toilet, then stepped into the shower. She enjoyed the feel of the hot water cascading over her, slowly washing away the dirt and grime along with the stresses and tensions of the long day at work.
Hermione enjoyed her job at the Ministry of Magic, working in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, but sometimes it was difficult work trying to change the ingrained ideas of wizards who had subjugated species like house-elves and centaurs for centuries, and today had been one of those extremely trying days.
She had attended a meeting which had gone quite badly, for Hermione’s section at least, and she had left work still feeling angry at not having managed to achieve the goal she had set herself for the day. A horrible slow journey home in torrential rain had done nothing to make her feel any happier, and the huge pile of bills waiting on her doormat had been the absolute capper. She turned her mind away from work and the bills and just enjoyed the hot water as it soothed and cleansed, her mind becoming quieter until she felt ready to leave the shower.
Stepping out, she grabbed a small blue towel and quickly wrapped it around her hair before it could do anything mad; then she wrapped a larger matching towel around her and worked rapidly to rub her skin dry, adding moisturising oil before pulling her white towelling dressing gown from the back of the door. She looked at herself critically in the mirror then opened it to reveal a cabinet behind, and after a few seconds of rooting around inside she found her tweezers. Taking advantage of the steam still filling the bathroom, Hermione attacked her eyebrows with gusto, working to make them slightly less bushy.
Eventually satisfied, she returned the tweezers to the cupboard and retrieved her moisturiser, spending several minutes making sure it was properly applied. She knew a lot of women her age didn’t really bother with moisturising but it came as second nature to her, and she was sure her skin would thank her for it when she was older.
With a final look in the mirror, Hermione turned and headed back to the bedroom, taking the pile of clothes with her. She placed the clothes in the wash basket and looked at the envelope on the bed once more. She had been trying to work out what it could be but she couldn’t think of anything. For a moment, panic that it would be something bad made her consider throwing it away or destroying it without reading the contents but instead she grabbed it and went back to the lounge where she picked up the other envelopes from where she had left them and put them all on the coffee table, then went to the kitchen to make herself some supper.
A few minutes later she was back in the lounge with a small plate containing some cheese and cream crackers and a large ice-cold glass of Pinot Grigio, and the plate and wineglass joined the envelopes on the coffee table. She sat down on the sofa and pulled her legs up under her, then began to open the envelopes. She started with the ones she recognised and worked her way through the growing and quite worrying pile of bills until she was left with just the mystery envelope.
For god’s sake, stop being such a wuss and just open the bloody thing, a little voice in her mind told her chidingly.
Taking a deep breath, she picked up the envelope and slid her finger under the flap to open it, tentatively pulling out the folded piece of parchment. She took another sip of her wine before unfolding the letter and found herself looking at a page written in the same beautiful copperplate script that was on the envelope. She read through it, her astonishment growing as she took in the words.
Dear Miss Granger,
I take the utmost pleasure in offering you a unique and most desirable opportunity to participate as a model for the Hogsmeade Camera Club.
As I am sure you are aware, the Club has a long and distinguished history and for this reason has always attracted a wide range of models from all walks of life. We are always looking to provide an interesting and stimulating experience for both members and models and we try to create an artistic environment that is both relaxing and pleasurable for all involved. It goes without saying that the remuneration package is generous, and for those who have the right disposition there are many ‘perks’.
If you are interested in discovering the full range of benefits this opportunity affords, please contact me by owl at the address below. I will be delighted to schedule an appointment to discuss the requirements and expectations of the Club and give a greater insight into the rewards we are willing to bestow upon a suitable candidate.
Yours most sincerely,
Archibald Fenwick, Grand Sorc.
Chairman, Hogsmeade Camera Club
Hermione had never heard of the Hogsmeade Camera Club nor had she heard of Archibald Fenwick, and she wasn’t certain what to make of being asked to become one of their models. Where the hell had they got her name from? She took another sip of her wine as she continued to stare at the parchment, then she discarded the letter. Beautifully written it may well be, but it was obviously either a joke or some kind of scam and it wasn’t something she was going to involve herself in.
Mind you, they had offered a ‘generous remuneration package,’ as they called it, and she could definitely do with that at the moment. Her problem was that her bills were building up, as evidenced by the huge pile on the coffee table before her and the truth was that however interesting her job at the Ministry was it just didn’t pay enough to cover them all. The rent on this flat alone was almost enough to cripple her and it wasn’t even a very nice flat in a good part of wizarding London, although it was at least in a safe area.
Hermione had been considering for some time getting a part-time job to help cover the bills, although she had never got any further than considering it; doing some dodgy modelling for some two-bit amateur camera club certainly wasn’t something she was willing to do or even think about so there was no point in keeping the letter.
She retrieved the letter, folded it and returned it to the envelope; then without even considering it further she ripped the whole thing into small pieces. When she returned her plate and now-empty wineglass to the kitchen before going to bed, she dropped the little pile of torn parchment into the bin. The one thing the letter and pile of bills had reminded her of, though, was that she really did need to do something about finding another job before she ended up bankrupt. Feeling thoroughly fed up and depressed at what an awful day she’d had, Hermione went to bed.

‘You must understand that as a professional club we take photographs of all sorts of subjects, from still life and landscapes right through to all types of models — be they wondrous human or majestic beast. For the true artist, anything can be a challenge to capture,’ Archibald Fenwick said. Hermione thought he sounded a little pompous.
She had found herself in an office far more spacious and well-appointed than she had expected, and Mr Fenwick seemed like a pleasant enough fellow. He reminded her a little of her old headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, with his long, flowing grey hair and beard and his sparkling eyes, although Fenwick’s were green, not blue, and he was wearing a navy blue robe rather than the purple the headmaster had so favoured.
‘So what sort of modelling would you expect me to do?’ Hermione enquired, cutting straight to the chase.
She had a feeling she knew but she wanted to be sure before she turned them down, and there was no point in prolonging the agony. She already felt uncomfortable about being there as it was. She had received a second letter a fortnight after the first, and then a third letter three weeks after that, and with her financial situation growing ever more troublesome — to the stage where it was beginning to give her sleepless nights — Hermione had finally contacted Archibald Fenwick.
When the latest letter had arrived on her doormat she was tempted to tear it up as she had done with the other two, still not interested in the offer. But realising she had to face hard facts, and that she was probably not cut out to be a waitress or a barmaid, she had conducted some research into the Hogsmeade Camera Club and discovered that rather than being a scam or some little local tin-pot society created by a group of middle-aged perverts to get their jollies, as she had thought, it was in fact, as the letter had stated, an extremely old and well-respected photographic club with an illustrious history.
Membership seemed to be varied and quite substantial, including over the years some quite famous wizards, and from what she had read the club had solid financial stability and had no trouble paying its models, nor had any complaints ever been made against it. Hermione had discovered that many people at work knew about the club; even Ron had heard of it, although as it was to do with a subject he had no interest in he really only knew the name and nothing much else about it.
Then she discovered that a few people she knew were actually members — one of whom, Dean Thomas, was an old Gryffindor school friend and fellow Ministry employee. He was enthusiastic and complimentary about the club and the way it treated its models. So, eventually, although still with slight misgivings and no small amount of curiosity as to how they had got hold of her name, Hermione sent an owl to the Chairman asking for an appointment to discuss terms.
‘We are obviously extremely keen to ensure that our models are happy with what they’re doing,’ Mr Fenwick said, attempting to reassure her. ‘The session would be ruined for everyone if the models weren’t completely relaxed and enjoying it.’
‘I understand that, but what does that mean exactly?’ Hermione replied, trying to keep her patience under control as the man dithered around the subject. She wished he would he would just admit that they were looking to take dirty photos of her and then she could say no and go home, safe in the knowledge that she had attempted to get a job but it wasn’t suitable.
Mr Fenwick shrugged. ‘It means exactly what you want it to mean, Miss Granger. You can do as little or as much as you feel comfortable with. Obviously, the amount you receive in remuneration is dependent on what you do. The more you participate in the session, the greater the rewards.’
Trying to keep the frustration from her voice, Hermione said, ‘So what sort of pictures are you looking to take — fashion shots . . . portraits . . . glamour photos?’
Mr Fenwick nodded, still smiling. ‘Yes, all of those and more. As I said, we cater for all types and try to allow our members to have fun and the models the freedom to express themselves in the way best suited to them.’
‘So I can keep my clothes on, then?’ Hermione asked bluntly.
Mr Fenwick looked at Hermione as if assessing her for a moment before replying. ‘Well, of course, Miss Granger, you are certainly welcome to keep all your clothes on although to be honest the remuneration would be considerably lower — except in certain special situations — as the appeal is somewhat limited. Generally, we find that most of our models are happy to be a little more flexible; perhaps lingerie — something a little more provocative but without being overly sexual. The process of getting there can be quite enjoyable and interesting, too.’
Hermione considered this for a moment. Was she willing to undress for a bunch of perverts with cameras, for money? It would depend on how much money and who the photographers were, she supposed. After all, with the right underwear she wouldn’t necessarily be showing off all that much. But of course, there had to be assurances that she wouldn’t be coerced into doing something she didn’t want to do, and that none of them would try to touch her.
‘So how much would I receive if I were willing to go down to my underwear?’ she asked nonchalantly.
Mr Fenwick didn’t say anything but he wrote a figure on a piece of paper and slid it across the table to her. Hermione looked at it in shock. Surely that couldn’t be right. It was a massive amount of money.
‘And how many times would I have to sit for that?’ she asked quietly.
‘That’s for one session,’ Mr Fenwick told her blandly. ‘Obviously, if you were willing to go further, the money would increase quite considerably. As I said before, Miss Granger, we are an exclusive club. Many of our members have access to vast amounts of wealth and are extremely happy to provide generous recompense to our models for their time.’
Hermione was still in shock at the amount of money on offer for underwear modelling. It would be more than enough to pay off all her bills in one go. All right, so admittedly it would probably be a little embarrassing at first, but once she got used to it she might not even notice, especially if they were all being as professional about it as Mr Fenwick indicated.
‘We quite often find that once our models get going they very much get into the spirit of the shoot,’ Mr Fenwick continued. ‘Quite often those who think that lingerie is their limit find themselves enjoying topless modelling, or maybe even beyond. You would be amazed at the number of models who, freed from the shackles of propriety, suddenly have the desire to pose naked.’
‘I don’t think that’s likely to be me,’ Hermione said honestly, her voice a little stiff.
‘You may be surprised,’ Mr Fenwick said, that glint back in his eye. ‘The sessions can become extremely erotic when everyone is enjoying themselves.’
‘No one’s allowed to touch me, though, are they?’ Hermione asked worriedly.
‘Oh, gosh no. There is a set distance between the model and the photographers, which I’m sure you’ll find more than sufficient. It is not allowed to be breached at any time during the shoot unless you decide you wish to allow close-ups, for an extra fee of course, then you are free to arrange that with individual photographers at your leisure. But everything is at the discretion of the model; there is absolutely no pressure to do anything.’
Hermione thought about this. She wondered what the set distance actually was and how far away from her the photographers would have to be for her to feel safe.
‘Of course, once you try it you may turn out to be one of those models who want to go even further,’ Mr Fenwick added when Hermione didn’t respond.
Hermione frowned. What on earth was going further than being completely naked?
‘Some of our members appreciate a model who is . . . erm . . . shall we say, willing to explore their body on camera. They are more than happy to pay a premium for such an experience,’ he continued, his voice quieter now.
‘You mean masturbate for the camera,’ Hermione said, sounding shocked.
‘You would be surprised at just how many people find modelling for us arousing, Miss Granger — both men and women — and, of course, the rewards are extremely handsome.’
Although she wasn’t sure she wanted to know, Hermione just had to ask. ‘So exactly how far could one go . . . if one wanted?’
Mr Fenwick considered the question seriously for a few seconds. ‘Well, I suppose the furthest our models have gone within a public session so far is an ejaculation circle,’ he mused. ‘Although I suppose if you were to make a private arrangement to sit for a photographer you could do whatever you wanted. After all, plenty of people like to film themselves having sex, don’t they?’
‘Ejaculation circle,’ Hermione repeated dully. ‘What does that mean?’
Mr Fenwick looked solemn. He was obviously back in ‘serious-art’ mode even though what he was talking about quite clearly had nothing to do with art, as far as Hermione was concerned anyway.
‘The model, usually naked, is surrounded by the photographers, who proceed to ejaculate all over them. The resulting “art” is then photographed.’
Hermione blinked, then looked at Mr Fenwick. Sounding disgusted, she asked, ‘And people really do that sort of thing . . . and are happy to let it happen to them?’
‘Oh yes, Miss Granger. There are plenty of men and women out there who are more than happy to participate in such activities — for a price.’
‘Whatever that price is, it could never be enough,’ Hermione said adamantly.
‘Well, everyone has their own limits and we’re happy to cater to all of them,’ Mr Fenwick said soothingly. ‘As I told you previously, none of our photographers will make you go further than you feel comfortable with. If you wish to stay fully dressed throughout the whole shoot that will be perfectly acceptable. Of course, they may request you to do something, but a refusal is always accepted as being absolute without any argument, so have no worries on that score. All our members are aware that a desire to see a model in a certain way does not guarantee that this will happen. All choices are made by the model alone.’
‘So are the photographers men and women?’ Hermione enquired.
‘Ah, well, for our shoots with female models we only allow men to participate,’ Mr Fenwick admitted.
‘Why’s that, then?’ Hermione asked, feeling uncomfortable at this idea. Then an unsettling thought occurred to her and she added a little more tartly, ‘Do you actually have any female members or is it all just middle-aged and old men looking to get their rocks off with young naked women?’
Mr Fenwick looked affronted at the accusation. His voice was distinctly cooler when he spoke this time. ‘We have both male and female members of all ages from seventeen to one hundred and seven, Miss Granger, and as I said previously, we have many different types of models — yet again, of both sexes. We do not allow women to attend the shoots with female models for one simple reason which is that the models, who are all amateurs much like yourself, tend to feel uncomfortable with other women there. We have found that it is hard for them to relax, and some of the more sensitive ones feel as if they’re being judged. This isn’t the case, of course, as the photographers are there purely to take the best photographs they can and increase their experience in creating great art. But because we want our models to enjoy the experience as much as the photographers do, and because if the models feel unsettled their output is not of the quality one would expect for the money that is laid out, we decided to take the step of making the shoots male-only.’
‘But what if I wanted other women there? What if I felt more comfortable not being the only woman in the room?’ Hermione asked.
‘Then you would be disappointed, Miss Granger. The rule is a long-standing one and cannot be broken for anyone.’
‘So does that mean that when you have male models you only allow women photographers in?’ Hermione asked, a touch belligerently.
‘No, of course not. It’s extremely rare that a man feels self-conscious about what he’s doing just because other men are present, and the male torso is equally good to photograph as a woman’s. As I have tried to explain before this is an artistic endeavour, Miss Granger, not a sexual one . . . although . . . we mustn't forget that there are some wizards who like other wizards, and for them there may be a more sexual element to it.’
‘But that’s not fair,’ Hermione retorted with a frown.
‘What isn’t, Miss Granger?’ Mr Fenwick asked, sounding as if he was interested in knowing what she thought.
‘You allow men to take photographs of other men because they’re gay. What about witches who like other witches? They do exist, you know, they’re not just a myth. How can it be fair to ban them from photographing women, when that’s their interest?’
‘Whilst you have a point, none of our current female members are of that persuasion as far as I am aware, therefore the argument has no validity,’ Mr Fenwick said, clearly wanting to end this line of questioning.
‘And if one were to join?’ Hermione asked, ignoring his tone.
‘Then we would need to consider carefully what we could do in that circumstance. I expect we would end up arranging something separately after making the potential model quite clear about the type of shoot it was. Obviously, for us the most important thing would be to ensure that the model was happy with the arrangement.’
Hermione looked at him for a moment, then enquired, ‘So if I agree to do this, what say do I have in the clothes I wear?’
Mr Fenwick smiled. ‘We do produce a small booklet that gives an idea of the sort of clothes and accessories that are generally considered desirable for photographing by our members and that you might wish to consider when putting together an outfit for the shoot — it gives you an idea of the type of fabrics and so on, and also explains some of the “specialist” scenarios you might be invited to participate in once you become a more established model for the club.’
He opened a drawer to his left and pulled out a small, thin booklet, passing it across the table to Hermione. It had the Hogsmeade Camera Club logo on the front and a rather old-fashioned photo of a witch and wizard dressed in what Hermione considered traditional robes.
‘Please take that with you and study it at your leisure. You will see that what you should wear depends on the type of shoot, and there is considerable scope so you shouldn’t have too much trouble finding something suitable in your current wardrobe.’
‘And what about underwear?’ Hermione asked as she picked up the booklet and put it into her handbag without looking at it. ‘Do I get to choose that, too, or will I be forced to wear something cheap, tacky and nasty-looking?’
‘You are perfectly at liberty to wear whatever underwear you wish, Miss Granger. As I’ve said many times now, the whole idea is for the model to be relaxed and at ease with the situation, so there is no point in getting you to wear something you would feel uncomfortable in.’ Mr Fenwick was still being polite but Hermione caught the undertone that gave away the fact that he was getting fed up with her questions. But she hadn’t finished yet.
‘So if I decided to do this, I could wear my own underwear . . . which I have to tell you now would not include anything tacky like crotchless knickers or peephole bras . . . or anything see-through.’
Mr Fenwick gave a small laugh. ‘Whilst undoubtedly I’m sure that some people would find that sort of thing attractive and worth photographing, I think you will find that most of our members have considerably more taste than that and would be more interested in shooting you with slightly less obvious lingerie.’
‘But it won’t show anything. I mean, I won’t be flashing anything off to anyone,’ Hermione said.
Mr Fenwick shrugged. ‘Quite often seeing less is more . . . interesting. As I told you, the price quoted is purely for a session including lingerie; what you choose to wear for that session is entirely up to you. If you were to consider revealing a little more, an increase in remuneration would then apply. Would you like me to give you an idea of the amount you could expect to receive?’
Hermione shook her head. ‘No. I’m sorry, but I know I would never be comfortable going any further. To be honest, I’m still not even entirely sure I could go down to my underwear.’
‘There’s no pressure for you to perform in any way other than that in which you feel comfortable, Miss Granger,’ Mr Fenwick told her, his voice soothing again. ‘If you decide to agree to a session with us, a contract will be sent to you detailing the different levels of remuneration available, obviously dependent on the various levels of performance. When you come to shoot with us, you do whatever feels comfortable for you and no more. Payment is made at the end of the session, either by immediate transfer to your account in Gringotts or in cash if you prefer.’
‘I think I’m going to have to consider it further,’ Hermione said quietly. ‘To be honest, Mr Fenwick, this isn’t something I’ve ever done or ever thought about doing before and I’m not sure I feel comfortable taking part, however illustrious or upstanding your club may be.’
‘But it is definitely worth considering, Miss Granger. The experience can be quite liberating, and I guarantee that without fail it is always extremely interesting.’
‘Can I ask how you got hold of my name?’ Hermione asked. This was the one thing that still bothered her about the entire affair.
Mr Fenwick gave a broad smile and his eyes twinkled. ‘You were recommended, my dear.’
Hermione looked shocked. ‘Who recommended me?’
‘All our models are chosen from recommendations made by our members. We understand that sometimes it can be a little difficult to relax in a room full of strangers, especially when they’re all taking your photograph — this can be a little overwhelming, especially the first time — so knowing that people you know will be involved in the session usually makes it a little easier for our first-timers.’
‘So can you tell me who recommended me?’ Hermione asked, wondering who would have put her name forward. She was sure it wasn’t Dean as she was fairly certain he would have mentioned it to her when she had asked him about the club, but she didn’t realise that she knew anyone else who was a member.
‘I’m afraid all suggestions are made anonymously,’ Mr Fenwick said. ‘But I can tell you that we received several requests for you to be approached. You appear to be a popular choice amongst our members.’
‘All from one person?’ Hermione asked worriedly, suddenly wondering if she had a potential stalker on her hands or whether this was some kind of nasty albeit elaborate practical joke designed to embarrass and degrade her.
Mr Fenwick shook his head. ‘All members are allowed only one suggestion per season and this is strictly enforced. So multiple requests will have been received from different members.’
Hermione wasn’t sure whether she should be relieved or worried about this. It meant she obviously knew more people in the Hogsmeade Camera Club than she had realised, but it also meant there were apparently several people she knew who, although they had kept their interest quiet, wanted to take photographs of her and probably hoped she would agree to go naked, or in her underwear at the very least.
‘Can I go away and think about it?’ she asked.
Mr Fenwick nodded. ‘Of course you may, Miss Granger. I have to admit that with the number of recommendations you have received we are extremely eager for you to join us for at least one session, but you need to be sure you are ready to do so. Take as much time as you need. Send me an owl when you decide you’re ready to have some fun.’
Hermione stood up. ‘Thank you for seeing me, Mr Fenwick. It’s been most informative, although I will admit a little shocking in places. I will seriously consider your offer, though, and I’ll let you know if I decide to accept.’
Mr Fenwick stood, too, and reached out his hand to shake Hermione’s. His grip was firm and not unpleasant.
‘It’s been a genuine pleasure to meet you, Miss Granger, and now that I have I can entirely understand our members’ desire to bring you onboard. I sincerely hope you will choose to honour the Hogsmeade Camera Club with your presence at a session in the near future.’
Hermione left the office, her head whirling with everything she had been told. She still wished she knew who had recommended her and she was still trying to get her head around the amount of money she was being offered to pose in her underwear. She thought about what she was currently wearing and chuckled. Somehow she didn’t think the Hogsmeade Camera Club would be overly impressed if they could see that. If she was going to do it she would need to get some new clothes. Then again, she would be able to afford to. With the amount they were going to pay her she could almost afford to buy a whole new wardrobe, and that was after paying the bills.
But was it right for her to accept money for allowing people to take photographs of her, especially in her underwear? She considered it as she made her way home, having stopped at Flourish and Blotts to buy a new book she knew she couldn’t afford but needed to buy anyway. At least she wasn’t having to do anything sexual, so it wasn’t like prostitution. It was more like being an escort.
Which is one stage away from prostitution, a little voice in her mind told her.
But it wasn’t really like being an escort, either, Hermione decided after a little more thought. It was artistic and there was a productive outcome at the end of it: a set of pictures from each of the photographers taking part in the session. They weren’t just paying for her company, and it wasn’t as if she was going to be alone with any of them or they were going to touch her in any way.
Hermione gave a huge sigh. The money definitely attracted her, especially as she needed it so badly with her current financial circumstances. But would she regret it in the future if she earned the money this way? She couldn’t decide at the moment; it was all still too confusing and she was likely to make a bad decision. She would need to read through the booklet Mr Fenwick had provided and then ignore it for a while and reconsider later, once she’d had a chance to properly get her head around the idea.
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The Hogsmeade Camera Club