Just a young gun with a quick fuse
I was uptight, wanna let loose
I was dreaming of bigger things
And wanna leave my old life behind
Thunder - Imagine Dragons

Hermione spent most of the following day skirting around Daphne, Alex, and Marie, under the guise of allowing them to spend their last day together before Alex and Marie were to return to France. Her own Portkey was arranged to return the next evening.

Reasonably, she didn't owe Malfoy. If anything, she ought to tell Daphne what had happened the night before on the pier, but something stayed her tongue.

It wasn't her truth to share.

And despite that she had never connected with Malfoy on any level, if she tried to put herself in his shoes, she wouldn't have appreciated someone speaking out of turn.

But those thoughts led her to a firm belief that Malfoy should, at the very least, let his friends know he was still alive. Daphne had been devastated to think her friend and classmate was well and truly gone, and the reminder of that alone nearly drove Hermione to tell her the truth.

Still, she said nothing. When Daphne asked what was wrong, Hermione made an excuse that she was tired, even though she had been back at the villa well before the three of them.

When the others decided to go for dinner before Alex and Marie's Portkey was to activate, Hermione opted to stay home, even though realistically she had no reason not to go along.

Instead, she found herself toying with the idea of returning to the Pier. Not to see Malfoy, of course.

Although if she did see him – maybe she could persuade him to allow her to tell Daphne. It felt like a betrayal of her friend's trust to keep something of this magnitude from her.

Which brought her back to the idea that she didn't owe Malfoy anything. He had no right to ask for her silence – but she had no right to advertise his existence working at a Muggle carnival on the Santa Monica Pier.

The day before, the four of them had taken the metro line to the pier, uncertain as to whether or not there was an Apparition point. Steeling her nerves and clenching her jaw, she found herself boarding the metro shortly after everyone else had left.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, Hermione was hoping Malfoy wouldn't even be working that day, because she had no reason to explain her presence.

It would be evident she was there specifically to see him, in some capacity or another. And she certainly didn't need him getting the wrong idea.

Something akin to relief leapt in Hermione's chest when there was no sign of Malfoy's platinum hair upon a cursory walk through the midway, even as it mingled with disappointment.

She had travelled to the Pier in search of him, even though she had no idea what she would say if she even saw him. Determining not to waste her evening, Hermione strolled the length of the Pier until she found herself gazing out at the ocean as the early vestiges of sunset lit up the sky.

Folding her arms on the rail, Hermione leaned forward, watching as ships danced in the distance. It was a beautiful evening, the air still and quiet around her. Only a handful of tourists milled about, and she felt remarkably alone.

After a long moment, a voice drawled to her right, "Why am I not surprised to see you here again?"

Startled from her reverie, Hermione glanced over to see Malfoy take up the spot beside her. Several long wisps of blond fell across his face, refracting the early golds of the setting sun. At first glance he looked to be taking a drag of a cigarette, but peering closer, Hermione realized it was a joint.

Stunned, she blinked at him. "Are you smoking marijuana?"

Malfoy shrugged. "I'm on break." His grey eyes caught hers for a moment, his lips twitching. He brandished the joint between long fingers. Hermione grimaced and shook her head.

With a snicker, he turned to stare out at the ocean, taking another long drag. His eyes fluttered shut before he blew out the smoke. In a low voice, he said, "So you're stalking me now."

"I'm not stalking you." Hermione folded her arms with a huff. She didn't have a better answer to offer instead, so she stayed silent, given he had approached her.

"Right." Malfoy gave a facetious nod. "Of course. You just happened to end up at my place of work two days in a row. Daph isn't here, is she?"

"No." Hermione frowned, eyes narrowing in his direction. "You told me not to tell her."

"You actually listened?" With a roll of his eyes, he took one last hit from the joint and put out the end, slipping the partial remains into a pocket in his wallet. "Colour me fucking surprised."

Hermione felt nerves stir within her and flare to life with ire. "Malfoy, what is your problem?"

"Shouldn't that be obvious?" He cocked a brow, his lips pursed. "Clearly, you're here with some agenda that you expect I'll listen to, despite that you don't care about me, and it's mutual, by the way. But yet." He waved a hand to indicate her presence. "Shouldn't you be running along to save the day somewhere?"

Turning on the spot to face him, Hermione wrapped her arms tighter around herself. "Look, Malfoy, since you left the world a year ago, there are some things you obviously don't know. For one, your friends were devastated at the thought that you'd been declared missing, and presumed dead. I don't give a rat's arse about you, but I do care about Daphne. And she deserves to know you're here."

Malfoy sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'd tell Daph. But Daph would tell Pansy, and the last thing I need is for everyone to know I'm working at a bloody Muggle carnival."

"So get a new job?" Hermione asked, making a face. "Surely that can't be the biggest issue out of everything I just said."

Clicking his tongue, he turned away from her. "I need the money."

"You." Hermione scoffed. "Spoiled, rich, pureblood heir."

He snickered, his eyes flickering to hers for a moment and away. "Right, well. New York was expensive. And so is California, for that matter. Believe it or not, Granger, but I like it here. I don't want to go back to England. I have no desire to face all that bullshit anymore."

Frowning, Hermione said, "For the record, Daphne and Pansy aren't really friends anymore. Pansy didn't come back for eighth year."

"Doesn't matter," he muttered, waving a hand. "If Daph finds out, everyone will find out. Though, I am surprised to learn you and Daphne are friends. Either her judgement is failing or you've pulled the stick out of your arse."

Feeling irritation flare in her blood, Hermione scowled at him until his lips twitched with a smirk.

"I'm bloody joking, Granger. Maybe you should have taken a hit." He released a single 'ha' at his own joke, his grey eyes heavily lidded. "Look, where are you staying?"

"Daphne's family has a timeshare near Venice Beach," Hermione said carefully, unwilling to divulge too much information to him. His nose twitched but he didn't respond other than to check the watch on his wrist.

"I've got to get back. If you're sticking around, you ought to go up the ferris wheel." He swept his hair from his eyes, turning to her. "Helluva view."

Hermione blinked at him, surprised. "Thanks. I will."

Malfoy shifted on the spot, looking uncertain before his expression went stoic again. "What are you doing tomorrow?"

"Going home." She eyed him with caution, wondering at his rapid mood swings. "Why?"

He sucked his teeth for a moment. "When are you leaving?"

"Seven. Daph's leaving early in the morning, though."

Pulling his lower lip between his teeth, Malfoy rummaged in his pocket for a ballpoint pen and a scrap of paper. "Write down your address. I'll teach you something before you go back."

Her eyes widened in surprise; the Muggle writing utensil looked so out of place in his hand as he held it out to her. "You've got to be kidding. Why would you willingly want to spend any more time with me?"

With a shrug, he looked over his shoulder. "Been a while since I've seen someone from home. Hurry up. Or forget it, then."

As if that was an answer. And despite the warning bells pealing in the back of her mind, Hermione took the pen and paper, jotting down the address of the villa.

"Swanky," he muttered as he read the note before pocketing it. "I'll be there at eight. Dress for the beach."

"The beach," she deadpanned.

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "The beach, Granger. Keep up." She could only gape at him as he backed away, and he exclaimed, "Ferris wheel!" before he turned and was gone down the path.

The bizarre encounter lingered in her thoughts as Hermione found herself wandering once more, eyes landing on the tall structure across the park. Releasing a tight breath, Hermione joined the queue for the ferris wheel.

When she reached the top, the last vestiges of dusk falling across the park, she had to admit Malfoy was right. The view was breathtaking, and she found herself grateful for the suggestion.

Her trip in California had taken a completely unexpected turn in the last twenty-four hours, but she would certainly return home to London with memories.

Hermione wrapped her arms around Daphne as the blonde waited for her Portkey to activate and return her home to London.

The restrictions around International Portkeys were more stringent than ever, and the Ministry closely monitored all incoming and outgoing travel. Although having their return times staggered by twelve hours seemed excessive.

"Thank you for coming, Hermione," Daphne said as she drew back, clasping Hermione's arms. "I hope you had fun."

"I truly did," Hermione said with a sad smile. "Hard to believe we're leaving so soon."

"I know." Daphne's head fell to the side. "We can come back, someday. Or go somewhere else together."

With a sharp nod, Hermione mused, "I appreciate the invitation. And the push." They both laughed, even as she couldn't quite meet Daphne's eyes.

Daphne leapt away as her Portkey began to glow blue, scrambling for her bags. "I'll talk to you soon, Hermione. Owl me when you get back!"

The girl was gone before Hermione could respond, and she whispered, "Bye, Daph," into the empty space where her friend had been. Then she slung her beaded bag around her shoulder and made for the sitting room, nerves dancing in the pit of her stomach at the thought of spending more time with Malfoy. On purpose.

She couldn't even quite wrap her head around the invitation, and she had forced herself not to think any harder than usual on her outfit of choice when she'd dressed that morning.

Not even understanding why he had invited her, or in fact, what they were doing, she found herself out of sorts while she paced the spacious room, hands clenched at her front.

Malfoy hadn't even clarified whether he would be arriving via Floo or Apparition, and so she kept half an eye on the fireplace as she watched the front walk.

Not ten minutes later, there was a sharp rap on the door. Hermione peered through the peephole and felt a jolt to see Malfoy on the front step, leaning against the wall next to the door with his arms folded and dark aviators on the bridge of his nose.

Swinging the door open, she eyed him with thinly veiled skepticism.

"You're ready. Good." Malfoy pushed off from the wall with his shoulders and strode down the steps as Hermione scrambled to lock up the villa.

Rushing after him, Hermione exclaimed, "Where are we going?"

"Told you." He adjusted his glasses. "The beach."

"But what are we doing?" Scowling at him as she was nearly forced into a jog to keep up with his long stride, she said, "The Apparition point is over there."

"I didn't Apparate." His lips twisted into a grimace as he stopped short and turned to face her. "Look, Granger, I know this is sort of your thing and all, but you don't need to ask a million questions about everything, yeah? Just… go with it."

A frown pulled at her lips as she held back a retort and resumed following him to the walk. It was only then that Hermione noticed the black Jeep Wrangler parked out front and her eyes widened as Malfoy slipped through the door on the driver's side.

Her mouth fell open as she noticed the pair of surfboards strapped to the roof. "We're going surfing?"

"Yes." His eyes tightened. "Come on. We're already late."

"I can't surf," Hermione choked, frozen to the walk. "And for that matter, you drive?"

"You think I could get by around here without driving?" he asked with a derisive snort. "And did you miss the part where I was going to teach you? Now hurry up, the breakwater gets busy as hell."

Most everything about what Malfoy just said sounded foreign coming from him, so she merely blinked and slid into the passenger's side, clenching her wand in her pocket in case he drove like he flew a broom.

But he slid the gear shifter into first and pulled out into the road in a fluid movement, his face fixed ahead on the road. Hermione frowned, eyeing him.

"Why are you doing this?" she asked. She couldn't see his eyes but imagined him rolling them.

With a shrug, he said, "I find this amusing."

"Amusing," she repeated. So many things just weren't making sense that she didn't even know where to begin.

"I told you," he huffed. "I haven't seen anyone from home in a long time. And clearly you aren't looking to murder me or you'd have done so already."

Her confusion only intensified. "Why would I want to murder you?"

"Look, Granger," he muttered as he rounded the corner. "Obviously you and I have some ugly history." He was silent for a long moment. "I've had a lot of time to think since leaving England, and I don't want that shite to follow me the rest of my life. Can you get that?"

It was the most honest thing she'd ever heard from him. And finally something she understood. She breathed, "I get that."

"So just…" He ran a hand through his pale hair. "Let me do something cool for you. Let me show you a good time before you go back home."

It made too much sense, and she felt emotion constrict her throat as she glanced sidelong at him.

"Anyways," he went on, shattering what might have been a moment. "You can't see Venice as a tourist. It isn't the same."

"Do you live here?" she asked, turning in her seat to face him.

"Santa Monica," he said, turning the wheel as they rounded another corner. "Close to the Pier. But we surf here a lot."

"We?" she asked, shrinking a bit deeper into her seat. She could only imagine the sort of people Malfoy knew here, having known his friends from school.

His friends, as she came to learn once they arrived at the breakwater, were a collection of good-natured, tanned twenty-somethings who evidently had a running joke in teasing Malfoy for his British accent.

So when he introduced her with a roll of his eyes while snagging a spare wetsuit from the box of someone's pick-up, his friends let out a hearty cheer. Some of them, she learned, had already been out surfing since sun-up, but a few had also just arrived.

"Another Brit!" a man exclaimed with a chuckle, stepping forward and offering a hand. "Mikhael."

"Yes, yes," Malfoy said, waving a dismissive hand. He threw the wetsuit at Hermione. "This should fit you."

The heavy fabric bounced off her shoulder as she took Mikhael's hand, with a crisp, "Hermione."

A stunning brunette with long, straight hair that made Hermione envious grinned. "Ignore him. But also – say knackered."

Malfoy barked a laugh as he met Hermione's stare with a hint of a smirk. "Ignore them all."

Feeling her lips twitch into a smile, she pronounced, "Knackered."

The girl clapped her hands together with an exclaimed, "Yes!" and offered her hand. "Lisa."

Shaking his head, Malfoy began to release the surfboards from the roof of his vehicle, shouldering Mikhael to give him a hand.

"Never surfed before?" Lisa asked with a sidelong glance as she approached Hermione.

She offered a grim shake of her head. "Never. He claims he's going to teach me."

"I'd pay money to see that," Lisa said with a grin. "But I don't even have to! You're going to want to put on that wetsuit. The swells are a bit chilly."

Malfoy's friends were already suited up in their gear and ready to go, so she glanced around, feeling suddenly self-conscious as she pulled her hair back into a messy knot atop her head. She had worn her two-piece suit, although now the thought of stripping down to what could essentially be underwear in front of Malfoy left her feeling unsettled.

But he wasn't paying any attention so she slipped her tank top and shorts off, tucking them into her bag. Then she attempted to pull on the wetsuit, struggling with the tight material and making her best effort at doing so gracefully.

It was more complicated than she expected, and Malfoy's eyes swept her with a smirk while she struggled with the upper half. She couldn't help but notice the way his stare lingered for just a moment, and felt a flush creep up her neck.

Thankfully Lisa stepped in and helped tug the neoprene around her shoulders, and pulled the zipper up the length of Hermione's back.

"Have fun," Lisa said, picking up a surfboard of her own. "Don't let him give you shit."

Then she and Mikhael turned to catch up with the rest, leaving Hermione alone with Malfoy, and she felt self-conscious once more. He'd donned his own wetsuit, and swept a hand through his hair, pushing it back from his face as he stowed the rest of their belongings in the car.

"Right," he muttered, turning to gaze out at the ocean. "We'll start over there. Easiest place to learn."

She followed after him as he walked towards the water, feeling completely disarmed and out of her element. Not only was she facing something brand new and complex that she'd never so much as tried before, but Malfoy was the one who had decided to teach her. She could only imagine the short length of his patience if she was bollocks at it.

"Basics," he muttered, sweeping a hand through his hair again. "Never drop in – that means don't steal someone else's wave if they're taking it. Don't try to surf outside of your skill because you could fucking drown. Respect the locals, the water, the waves."

"I mean," Hermione interrupted, "I don't even know what to do yet so…"

He grimaced. "I guess you should learn to paddle first." He gestured to one of the boards. "That's a beginner board."

Taking a step towards the board, Hermione was knocked off her guard when Malfoy planted a hand to the middle of her back and shoved her forward. She stumbled, and turned on her heel, fuming. "What was that for!"

"You're goofy," he said, flashing her a smirk.

"Excuse me!" Hermione exclaimed, glaring at him as she stomped closer.

Malfoy released an indelicate snort, followed by a bark of laughter. "Relax, Granger. It means you'll stand with your right foot forward on the board."

Scowling, Hermione turned back to face the board he'd suggested. She hoisted it up lengthwise and turned to the ocean when Malfoy stopped her with a hand to her arm.

"Wait," he muttered. "Fuck. I don't know how to teach this. You'd better learn to take-off first. So that's the movement of standing up on the board from a lying position. Better to learn the action of it before you're in the water."

Her eyes narrowed. "Your decisiveness is so reassuring."

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Put the board back in the sand." When she didn't move, he snickered. "Just fucking go with it, Granger."

Several hours later, Hermione collapsed on the beach, exhausted. Her arms were about ready to drop out of their joints, she felt completely waterlogged, and she was ready for a good nap.

Malfoy sat beside her, unzipping the back of his suit.

"You weren't terrible," he said.

"I didn't get up once," she deadpanned.

"Twice, actually," he corrected. "You just didn't stay up for more than a few seconds."

From her spot on the beach, Hermione could see his friends out in the distance, riding the waves like professionals. She frowned, wondering how long they'd been practicing.

"I was really hoping to manage it," she admitted.

"You can try again in a bit, if you like." After returning to the Jeep to collect their bags and a cooler, he hefted his beside him and slipped his sunglasses on. Her gaze flickered to him and it was then Hermione noticed he'd removed the top half of his wetsuit and hadn't donned a shirt.

Her mouth went dry; his pectorals and abdomen were defined, the muscles of his arms long and lean, and his tanned skin shone with residual moisture. Subtle slashes of scar tissue marred the skin every so often.

Thankfully he hadn't noticed her perusal as he opened the hard cooler, and waved a hand. "Drink?"

"Please," she muttered, grateful for anything to take the edge off her burning muscles. He handed her an aluminum can. "I don't think I have any arm strength left to try again."

"If you weren't leaving today we could work on it," he said casually, as he cracked open a beer and took a sip, his gaze fixed on his friends out on the waves.

"You aren't sick of watching me fail yet?" she asked with a snicker, following his gaze. "You can go join them. I don't mean to keep you from enjoying your day."

But Malfoy shook his head. "I surf all the time. And honestly, it took me a week to even manage an easy wave. I didn't expect you to get it today. But you'll know the basic techniques at least."

"Right," she managed. For the briefest flicker of time, she considered the fact that it might be nice to stay and try again in a day or two. But her Portkey was scheduled for seven o'clock, and she had only hours left in California. She glanced at him. "Do you have the time?"

Rummaging in his bag for a watch, Malfoy said, "Half one."

With a tight nod, she put on her own sunglasses in the brightness of the sun. "Do you have to work at the Pier tonight?"

He shook his head slowly. "Day off. We'll most likely stay here for a while. Maybe go to Santa Monica tonight or something.."

Hermione took a swig of her beer, enjoying the cold feel of it as it slid down her throat. The sun was high in the sky, and her wetsuit was drawing in more heat than she'd expected. She wanted to shrug out of it, but she'd had enough trouble getting it on dry, with help, and she wasn't keen to make a fool of herself in front of Malfoy.

She also remembered the way he'd eyed her bare stomach and she wore nothing other than a bikini top to cover her chest. A flush crept up at her neck at the thought.

"Sounds fun," she said softly, watching as a huge swell crashed down, taking a surfer with it. Hermione tensed on the sand, but Malfoy only took a sip of his beer. Moments later, the surfer popped back up.

His grey eyes cut away from the water to meet hers. "I'd say you're welcome to join us. But England calls."

"Right," she whispered. There was something wholly disassociated about the idea of returning home so soon, while she was on a beach learning to surf with Draco Malfoy.

Somehow the thought of interviewing at the shops in Diagon felt incredibly far away.

"What are you doing back there now, anyway?" he asked, his gaze again fixed ahead on the ocean. "I'm sure you have your pick of golden opportunities."

There wasn't anything snide or judgemental in his tone, and Hermione wasn't certain how to respond. After a long moment he glanced at her, and she found herself shrugging. "I haven't decided yet, to be honest."

He took another long swig of his beer and released a sharp exhale. "So why rush back?"

Hermione shrugged, leaning her hands back behind her as she set her beer in the sand. "Daphne's gone, and her friends. She basically had to drag me out here as it was."

"I see." He fell silent again, and Hermione wondered at the companionable silence between them. "Well, let me know when you need a ride back. Unless you have your stuff with you."

"I brought it," she managed, nudging the beaded bag. Malfoy's lips twitched with a smirk. "I didn't know how long we'd be today. The Portkey activates at seven."

His expression was blank, and Hermione wished she could see his stare through the glasses. Finally he spoke again. "Obviously, my friends are Muggles. You'll need to go somewhere else."

"You drive, you surf with Muggles, you work at a carnival…" She trailed off, pressing her lips together. "I'm having a hard time wrapping my head around this."

"It's simple," he said, his words clipped. "I don't use magic anymore."

"Why?" she asked, the word a breath.

He glanced at her, propping his sunglasses on top of his hair. "It's too easy to track. Apparition, spellcasting. I emptied my Gringotts vault, exchanged the Galleons for Pounds, and it got me this far after leaving England. I ended up in California nine months ago and planted roots."

"And you're just going to stay here?" she asked, wondering if she was inching across some invisible line – whether he was going to lock up and push her away.

And a small part of her wondered why she cared at all.

"That's the plan," he said. "Like I said, I like it here. Do I want to run a fucking carnival game forever? Hell no. But I'll take it. No one here knows who I am, Granger, and what I've done. I'll take that any day of the week."

"I get it," she whispered, swallowing. "It's great here. I'm tempted to stay a bit longer, to be honest. "

Malfoy snorted. "So throw your bloody Portkey into the ocean."

Skeptical, she eyed him, attempting to discern whether he was being serious. For a brief moment, she wondered what would happen if a Portkey activated in the ocean. "I've got interviews lined up in the next few days, and I've already left the villa. I'd have no place to stay, and I don't have the money for a hotel."

"Just a thought." Mind churning, Hermione watched as he crunched his empty can and swapped it out for a fresh one. "We can get food if you're hungry. That lot should probably be coming off the waves soon."

She offered a slow nod. "Food sounds good." She fell silent, eyeing him for a moment. "Thanks, Malfoy. For the invitation today. I've actually had fun."

His lips tugged into a smirk. "Believe it or not, so have I, Granger. Thanks for coming along."

Hermione couldn't quite comprehend the twist in her stomach as she stared at him.

Author's Note: Thank you so much to everyone for reading! I hope you're enjoying so far, and would love to hear your thoughts!

I'm happy/terrified some of you reached out to let me know you're from this area - and I hope you'll have a little grace with me as we go along, since where I live we have snow six months of the year! I'm so excited for this story and I hope you're feeling the summer vibes!

Alpha love to Kyonomiko and LadyKenz347, and beta credit to the fabulous I was BOTWP.