Dearest Reader,

Thank you, ever so much for looking into this story. For now, it is a one-shot, but soon I hope to make it a bit of a drabble series on Luna and Rolf's relationship over the years. I hope you enjoy it, and leave a comment (they are each much appreciated).

Hoots,

Owls

P.S - this was 825 words, and used the prompt avis (spell) from the Qudditch Pitch and Drabble Club.

"Avis." The birds started to spout from the tip of Luna's wand, swirling and billowing like the smoke of a muggle London stackhouse from the early 1900's. They were graceful and elegant, sailing through the clingy tropical air of the rainforest in their shifting cluster.

When the flock finished spewing from her wand, Luna brought her knees to her chest. She wrapped her arms around her legs and looked up, watching her conjured birds dart and chirp, looping lazily against the canopy of trees and stars.

Her blue eyes followed their every move, sparkling in the moonlight, that flickered in the pool of green water before her. There was a short waterfall leading into it, drowning out much of human noise behind her.

It was late, nearly midnight, but the crew, sent by the Royal British Institute for the Care of Magical Creatures to investigate magical diversity in the Congo, was still awake. On a normal day, Luna wouldn't have minded the late night; however, today had been decidedly not normal, even for her, and she beginning to be tired of it.

To begin, Cassandra, Luna's roommate and the only other female zoologist on the team, woke up screaming and waving a copy of the Daily Prophet. Cassandra's scream was very shrill, much like her normal voice but about twenty decibels higher. "Newt Zamander's grandzon is going ze expedition, et iz why we've been held up for monthz," she had said gleefully, in her french accent.

The paper surprisingly hadn't lied, and soon enough Rolf Scamander was at their hotel, a crowd of photographers and fans behind him, asking about his new book (mainly when it would be published) and if he was hoping to further his grandfather's research. The young man, looked tired and worn out– a fact that wasn't helped by the shrill Cassandra's attempts at flirting; he wanted nothing more than to leave, so Professor Gorsome, the lead scientist, decided to push through into the jungle and set up camp that day. They didn't finished until well in the evening, when everyone and everything seemed to be annoying. That was probably why they were having a party, which didn't quite make sense to Luna considering at a party you are supposed to be not annoyed with everyone you are with.

Luna wasn't big on parties anyways. She liked solitude, but people were also nice to be around especially when they didn't have Cassandra's voice or laugh or hair flipping.

The white-haired girl puffed out her cheeks leaning her chin down to her knees; her birds flying low to the water now, some skimming their wings in it as they passed and started to dart in and out of the waterfall. Her eyes had yet to give up chase on the birds though her thoughts had led her elsewhere.

She liked how free birds seemed to be, as cliche as that sounds. They were light and unanchored. The cares they had were so few, and they were so beautiful and small. A bird could do anything it wanted really, but Luna couldn't.

The witch reached out her fingers to touch them, smiling as the flock moved towards her in a swift cloud, surrounding her. Their feathers grazed her skin where her sleeves were rolled up and her bare feet and the nape of her nake where only wisps of white hair curled from her ponytail. She laughed, part of the tiring day leaving her, as she closed her eyes and just felt the breeze and motion of the world.

She was light and free, flying above the treetops. She was singing and laughing. There was nothing there to stop her or to catch her if fell. It was dangerous, but completely freeing. Her wings were spread wide for the world to see as she passed them by.

Her mind had fully gone to that place of freedom and flight, when her visitor arrived, holding two cups of the chef's 'special' drink in his hands.

"Are you alright?" He asked, kneeling down beside the girl. Luna's eyes fluttered open and met his, a blush spilling onto his cheeks.

She nodded. "Are you?"

"Yes, actually," he choked out. "You're missing the party. I thought I'd bring you something." He held out a cup. "I think… I know there is alcohol in it."

"Thank you," she said, taking the cup. "You like to be called Rolf, right?" Her eyes watching him over the cup. The birds had finally landed pecking at the rocks on the pools edge

He sat down next her, crossed legged and watching her profile. "Uh, yeah, and you're Lola, right."

"Luna. I believe Cassandra heard me wrong when I first introduced myself to her. She only calls me Lola."

"You can tell her."

Luna shrugged, taking a sip from her drink. The alcohol burning down her throat wasn't completely foreign.

"Do you like birds?" she asked after a moment of silence.

"Yeah."