"The first question I ask myself when something doesn't seem to be beautiful is why do I think it's not beautiful. And very shortly you discover that there is no reason." –John Cage
In Remus Lupin's mind, beauty was always achieved through a number of imperfections. The way that sunlight broke through rain clouds in golden streaks, or how moonless nights looked, or maybe even the sound of 12 Grimmauld Place early in the morning before anyone from the Order returned from duty, before the dark creatures lurking in the dismal house stirred. All possessing obvious faults, but beautiful in their clear lack of perfection. The contrast between two things, a struggle between dark and light, is what made things beautiful.
Beauty was any number of contradictions: sometimes simple, other times amazingly complex. Black and white, technicolored, somber, and brilliant.
Some things could be deemed beautiful at first glance. Others, it took a deeper appreciation, a more prolonged acquaintance with them.
He supposed that's why he found her so beautiful. Not at first, no, not the first time Nymphadora Tonks tripped into his outstretched arms. It took months for him to appreciate her shocking personality, and underneath it, her gentle beauty. What started as a sense of fondness for the young woman developed into a deeper admiration, one that he felt he could never begin to comprehend.
It was late winter, seven and a half months since he'd first laid eyes on that impish smile. Despite clumsiness, brash words, and stubborn tendencies, he always waited with baited breath for their next meeting, quickly exchanged words, and rushed goodbyes. He loved all her changing facades, but loved the pink-haired young woman best of all. And he told her so. She smiled, of course, never knowing what to think of words like these. Maybe one day Remus would explain it to her, when he could figure things out himself.
When he could explain his concept of beauty, and tell her she embodied it.