Disclaimer: JK owns, not I.
Written for a challenge on FictionNET - link in profile. The challenge description was:
For this challenge, take one of the child characters of HP – by 'child' we mean either one of the students - and write about them when they're older and holding down their own job.
I chose to show Colin Creevey, though I'm not quite sure why. Enjoy!
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The building was rather nondescript, just another apartment on Hogsmeade's main street. Many passers-by glanced up at it, before commenting to their friend or partner that "it ought to be pulled down, really, making the town look poor." Occasionally, someone would enter, and leave a few hours later.
It was the inside of the building that was where the magic went. The top two floors had been transformed into a studio, filled with props and cameras and lighting equipment, complete with changing rooms and a wardrobe department.
A beautiful model emerged from the changing rooms, her blonde hair rippling down her back. She wore... well, very little, since the photo shoot was for a swimsuit edition of Wicked Witches. The model made her way over to the set for her shoot, and picked up a beach ball before posing against the tree trunk that had been brought in for this occasion.
"Is this how you want me?" she asked, her voice low and sultry. Behind the camera, Colin Creevey, photographer extraordinaire, gulped, hiding his blush behind the camera's lens.
"For now, yes," he said, his voice high-pitched at first. He cleared his voice, and then a professional air fell over him. His embarrassed grin turned into a deadly serious expression, and his eager eyes became sharp and cold.
"Lighting!" he shouted, causing the aides to scurry around. "I want shadows; she's leaning back on a palm tree. We need the sun to be on the left, making the most of her face. Alyssa, darling, close your eyes, tilt your head back, enjoy the sunlight." His orders were obeyed almost instantly – his temper had a fierce reputation – and Alyssa, the model, closed her eyes and gave a faint smile, as if daydreaming.
"That's perfect!" Colin began to take photos, snapping her from all angles. "Drop the beach ball, put your hand up above your head as if you're sheltering your face, let's see you work that swimsuit." The model obeyed. "Hold it," Colin shouted. "Don't touch a thing-!" The camera flashed a few times, and then he straightened up.
"Costume change!" he yelled. The studio became a hive of activity, with wardrobe witches leading Alyssa off. The aides swarmed over the set, changing the tree trunk for a deckchair, adding a summery-looking drink. Colin wiped his brow, putting the camera down and picking up another one.
"I want an overhead light for this, she's reclining on the beach at midday," he snapped. "Get the parasol ready. We need to finish the shoot quickly today; I'm due at the Puddlemere game tonight."
Quidditch, he sighed. At least it meant a chance to see some of his old idols from Hogwarts – Oliver Wood, team captain, who had joined a bottom-league team and taken it to the top. Ron Weasley, who had found his vocation as a Chaser. And of course, Harry Potter, England's best Seeker for generations. Quidditch photos excited him – there was the challenge of capturing the motion without blurring the faces, the attempts to photograph the Snitch. And it helped that the Daily Prophet paid handsomely for his services.
Alyssa emerged again, wearing even less, and was followed by a brunette in a similar bikini. She was new, Colin noted, feeling his cheeks redden as he watched them slink up to the set and place themselves; Alyssa on the deckchair, and the new one – Candice, he was informed – lay at Alyssa's feet on a beach towel. He admired them for a moment, remembering why he loved his job, before once more professionalism fell over him.
"Let's excite these readers, shall we, darlings?" he asked, raising his camera to his eye. "Lower the sunglasses, Alyssa; let's see your beautiful eyes." The camera clicked and whirred. "Prop yourself up on your elbows, Candice. Make the most of what you've got." Which was rather a lot, his brain noted with interest. Better make a note of her Floo address; very few models said no when Colin Creevey invited them out to dinner. It wasn't that he was handsome, although some commented on his curly golden hair and cherubic face. It was more his reputation that they desired; but since he didn't desire much more than a night or two in the bedroom, he didn't particularly mind. What he lacked in looks, he more than made up for in bed.
Flash, click, whirr. Colin darted about, shouting instructions, taking some beautiful photos. They were always beautiful, because he was the best.
"Costume change!" he yelled again. This time there would be another model, and they would shoot the centrefold. That- a lump came to his throat with nervousness and he gulped it back- would involve the nudity.
He had a sure-fire way to stop himself from getting too involved in the scene, though; to stop himself from ruining the shoot. Although afterwards he tended to attempt to drown himself in an icy cold shower before developing the pictures. He'd learnt his lesson after the Christmas photo shoot.
"Move the deckchair," he snapped to an aide. It was moved within seconds, replaced with a parasol. "Leave the lighting until they're settled in."
The change was taking a long time – odd, considering they weren't going to be wearing much when they came out. But embarrassed voices drifted over from Wardrobe, and he sighed. New models were always too scared to come out for their first time.
"Maggie?" he shouted across the studio to the wardrobe woman, "we're on a time limit here!"
"They're coming, Mister Creevey!" Maggie shouted back, used to his demands. An aide behind Colin snickered. Immature swine, Colin thought, rolling his eyes.
The door opened, and two brunettes made their way up to the set; Candice, and a regular of his- in more ways than one- Erica. They wore towels around their shoulders, and Alyssa, now fully dressed, slipped to the back of the studio. She wasn't in this? Colin blinked, and then shrugged.
"Come on, ladies," he said with a winning smile, picking up a third camera – never re-use cameras was his policy, they lost quality with time. "The readers don't pay to see you in towels." The towels were shed, and Colin had to shake his head to keep his calm.
Umbridge in a bikini, he began to chant silently, taking in the beautiful models. Wicked Witches always had the best. Umbridge in a bikini. Umbridge in a bikini! It worked, and he shouted out instructions for their poses, before raising the camera to his eye.
"Let's make these men sit up and beg," he ordered, and began to weave his magic.
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Finit!