Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter

"I'm looking for beauty," he tells this fairy moon child as they sit side-by-side in the Department of Magical Creatures. She is looking for a permit so she can go exploring in Sweden and he is looking for a portkey to a dragon reserve—maybe he'll find beauty there.

He shows the blonde girl with the sparkling eyes his camera that he captures all the beauty he finds on and she oohs and ahhs over the flowers and the animals and all the beauty he's found. And then she blushes when he tells her she's beautiful.

He asks her name and she says "Luna," and he's enraptured by this moon goddess with sunshine spilling out of her soul. And as they wait, Luna tells him about her life, weaves fairytales out of her words about friends and a war and days she spent with a wandmaker in the belly of a Mansion. About fighting for her life and about her father and a boy named Neville she thinks the world of.

And he tells her about a childhood full of beauty—of his eccentric, but lovable grandfather, of a million magical things he's seen and none of them results of incantations.

They swap stories like schoolchildren until he is handed a portkey. And as he walks away, he turns and snaps a photograph of this beautiful girl sitting in a chair in a stuffy office with flowers in her hair. She doesn't belong in the photograph and that is the most beautiful thing about it.

He finds her again in a field of daisies. She is dancing in the flowers, a daisy chain in her blonde hair and one around her neck and he is still looking for beauty.

He hasn't found it yet, not the kind of beauty he's looking for.

He's found majestic pyramids in Egypt and brilliant sunrises and sunsets that spew color over the water. He's found beauty in animals and flowers and beauty in rain and sunshine, but he's yet to find what he's looking for.

He's looking for daisy chains and dancing; fairytales and imagination and sweet, sweet smile that makes eyes sparkle.

Before he says hello to her, he takes a few pictures—of Luna with flowers in her hair and sunshine streaming from her soul.

Then he interrupts her and her eyes light up and "Oh, hullo, Rolf!" and they sit in the daisies and she teaches him to make daisy chains and he loops the sloppy one he made around her neck to compare to the dozen he hangs in his bedroom, little pieces of beautiful to have with him for always.

The third time he sees her, it is in Hogsmeade in the wintertime and she's in the Three Broomsticks with packages at her feet and a mug of something steaming in her hands.

It is the first time he's seen her with friends; two other women—a red head fighting a baby bump that doesn't quite allow her to reach the table and a bushy-haired brunette he recognizes as Hermione Granger (or rather, Weasley) and then there's Luna.

The other two women wear wedding rings, but Luna wears only a sloppily made daisy chain around her neck.

Two men burst in behind him, stomping their feet to shake off the cold, and Rolf hastens to the bar, as he's been gawking at Luna for—too long.

The two men turn out to be Harry Potter and Ron Weasley and they greet their wives and Luna as Rolf watches on. He can't help but notice that Luna looks a little lonely.

And the party of five grows to include three more red-headed brothers and their wives and still Luna sits alone, part of their group and yet a loner, as she has no significant other and no one she appears to be waiting for.

She does not watch the door, eagerly awaiting a lover or friend, does not glance around, hope in her eyes, as she searches for someone. She is alone and single and Rolf takes a drink and touches her on the shoulder lightly, unnoticed by the rest of the group.

Luna glances up at him and smiles, gathering her packages as she kisses him on the cheek. "I wondered when you'd show up," she says, and he smiles.

He follows her to California and takes picture of her twirling in a field of daisies, of sitting like some oversized bird in a tree, swinging her feet like a child, dancing in the moonlight and laughing in the sunshine.

He's found what he's been looking for at least and this beautiful sparkling girl is the star of his photography—pictures and pictures of Luna dance along the gallery walls. Some are Muggle-still, some magically alive, some black and white, some bursting with color.

And it's always Luna—Rolf set off to find beauty and he has—in this sparkling fairy moon child with daisies in her hair and beauty in her hear, sunshine spilling from her soul to light up the dark places. Rolf has found the beauty he has been looking for.

Author's Notes: Although some claim Rolf is an environmentalist, I prefer to leave his occupation up to interpretation. As I see Luna as someone who is not only beautiful, but also as someone who sees the world in a very unique, beautiful way, someone—like a photography—would be able to appreciate her for who she truly is.

A rundown of my views on non-book canon can be found on my profile page.

Thanks so much for reading!