You be the judge.

Hermione's breath came in ragged gasps, the sweat beading on her brow now tracing paths through her disheveled curls and dripping onto her collarbone. Her eyes, wide and glassy, remained fixed on the discarded bra hanging from Luna's bedframe, its cups still holding the shape of Luna's breasts, a silent testament to the casual nudity that surrounded her. She felt the moths brushing against her skin, their tiny legs tickling as they explored this new, uncharted territory of exposed flesh, and she shuddered—not from cold, but from the overwhelming sensory assault.

Luna, meanwhile, after her stretch, had begun to dance again, her arms rising above her head in a slow, undulating dance. Her pale body caught the candlelight, casting shifting shadows across the dormitory walls as she moved with an ethereal grace, her feet tracing lazy patterns on the stone floor. The moths seemed to pulse in rhythm with her movements, orbiting her like satellites around a moon. She hummed a tuneless melody, her silver eyes half-closed, her expression one of pure, unselfconscious bliss. She spun once, her hair fanning out, and as she completed the rotation, her gaze landed on Hermione again. She stopped, her arms still raised, and smiled that dreamy, knowing smile.

"You're staring at my bra," she said, her voice soft and lilting, as if commenting on a particularly interesting cloud formation. "Would you like to put it on? It might not fit properly—the Nargles have been adjusting the straps—but it would cover you, at least a little." She lowered her arms and took a step closer, the moths parting before her like a living veil. "Ever since I started at Hogwarts, I’d had an overwhelming desire just to take off all my clothes and be naked every day.” Said Luna. “That’s why I always strip naked when alone, and dangle my bra and panties from my bed.”

The thought made Hermione gasp even more and she felt a trickle of something from her hand clamped between her legs..