For a moment
Felt like we were floating
Baby, I swear, we were golden
It was easy, natural as breathing air
Crawl Outta Love - Illenium feat. Annika Wells
It became increasingly evident over the course of the following week that the situation at the nightclub had been a mistake.
Hermione had neither seen nor heard from Malfoy in days. On more than one occasion she'd refrained from ringing him for a ride, and he hadn't offered. She hadn't even seen him at work – before he had been stopping by the souvenir shop on his breaks when they worked the same shift.
It was fine – it only told her where they stood. Clearly, whatever had gone on between them had either revulsed or spooked Malfoy to the point where he no longer wanted anything to do with her.
The worst part of it was that she missed talking to him. Missed his snarky attitude and his languid drawl, and the enjoyment from learning and exploring with him.
She had debated going to the beach on her own the day before, but it hadn't felt the same. And she hadn't found the heart to ask Lisa to go with her, who was dealing with her own issues with Mikhael.
The short of it was that she and Malfoy weren't together – and would never be together – and the entire situation was better off if they wedged some distance back between them again.
Boundaries were important, she'd learned time and again. Yet, she'd allowed Malfoy to parade through hers as if they were made of straw.
She was more frustrated with herself for enabling a brief hope to tug at her heart when it came to him, when she absolutely knew better. But still – there was a tiny, bitter sort of sting, and it might have been something reminiscent to hurt.
It would just mean she had nothing tying her to California, which had been the intention all along.
Roger snapped his fingers with an exaggerated huff, drawing Hermione back to the present. Her nose wrinkled, lip curling as she eyed him with irritation. Honestly, who snapped at a person?
"Tell your friends to stop coming here if they aren't going to buy anything," he said, crossing his arms and making for the back room.
Startled, Hermione looked to the door. Her heart plummeted into her stomach and she felt a shortness of breath. Malfoy stood near the entrance, idly browsing the racks as if he intended to make a purchase – although she knew he wouldn't.
Uncertain whether she ought to take her time or rush, she made an awkward pace in his direction, pretending to inspect a rack of shirts on her way.
"What are you doing here?" she asked, her words stiff and formal, when he was within hearing range.
With a shrug, Malfoy swept his long fringe from his sight. He looked at her for a moment then away, the skin around his eyes tight. "Wanted to see how you were doing. Haven't heard from you."
Frowning, Hermione eyed him, skeptical. "I haven't heard from you."
His gaze was firmly on a shelf of trinkets, his lips pursed. "Suspected you didn't want to see me. And if you don't, it's fine – I'll go."
Hermione froze. "Where did you get that idea?"
"From your utter silence." Lifting a brow, he stared at her.
"My –" Huffing a long exhale, Hermione turned to see Roger glaring at her and she rolled her eyes. "I can't talk to you if you aren't going to buy anything."
His grey eyes roved the shop and his lips curled with a smirk. "There's literally no one ever here." He sneered in Roger's direction and shrugged. "Fine. When are you through?"
"Nine." A cursory glance at the clock told her it was in half an hour. "Meet you somewhere?"
Nodding, Malfoy made for the door. "I'll be at the ferris wheel. See you then."
Pulling her bottom lip between her teeth, Hermione nodded, unable to steady the anxious pulse of her heart.
As if knowing she had somewhere important to be – more important than the souvenir shop, anyways – Roger assigned Hermione a task of unloading several new boxes onto shelves at a quarter to nine.
Scowling at the menial work, she wished for her wand. Instead she rushed through, making her best effort at arranging the decorative porcelain figures without taking too much time.
All the while, her brain twisted and spun with all the options that Malfoy might want to talk about. Despite her own self-assurance that she was better off, she couldn't deny the interest in seeing him.
Still, she wondered how things had changed between them so quickly.
At five past nine, she pulled the irritating polo over her shoulders, and with a brisk nod to Roger, made for the door.
Malfoy was leaning back against a piece of machinery when Hermione approached, gesturing with a hand as he spoke to Mikhael. Chuckling, Mikhael shook his head as he engaged a series of buttons and the ferris wheel initiated its rotation.
They both turned to her when she walked up and slid her hands into the pockets of her jeans, Malfoy with a tilt to his head.
"Hermione," Mikhael greeted, expression faltering.
"Hello," she breezed, her voice coming out breathier than she'd intended. Malfoy offered only a nod, his face stoic.
Rubbing the back of his neck, Mikhael asked, "How's Lisa doing?"
Hermione debated how to answer the seemingly innocuous question."She's good. But you should call her."
Malfoy and Mikhael exchanged a glance, and Mikhael shrugged. "Okay. I will."
"Come on," Malfoy said, pushing away from the machine with his shoulders. "Let's go for a drive."
He shouldered Mikhael on the way past, who waved an absent hand at the pair of them, and Hermione found herself rushing to keep up with his longer stride as he left the park.
"Where are we going?" she asked as she fell into step towards his Jeep; the sky overhead was black, and away from the grounds of the park, a hushed sort of silence had fallen over the world.
With a shrug, Malfoy swept a hand through his hair, carding his fringe out of the way. She wondered why he didn't just cut it since it always seemed to irritate him. "Beach."
"Okay," she breathed, unsure whether he was telling or asking. "Beach is good."
He was silent most of the way as he navigated the streets leading from the pier to Venice Beach, and Hermione didn't know how to break the silence. Although she was interested in hearing what he wanted to say, something stayed her tongue.
Finally he sighed, scratching the back of his head. "Look, Granger – if I crossed a line the other night, I apologize."
"It's fine," she rushed, forcing her lips into her best approximation of a smile. "Yeah, fine. We were drinking."
His nose wrinkled and he looked away out the window. Sliding the shifter into neutral and engaging the brake as they arrived at the beach, he exited the vehicle and circled around to her side, leaning against the side panel.
"It isn't something I make a habit of." He dipped his chin, staring towards the ocean. "Drinking. I don't like feeling like I'm not in control."
Hermione felt his words somewhere deep in her soul. "I understand."
With a huffed breath through his nose, he turned to face her, his grey eyes tight. "And if I made you uncomfortable, it wasn't my intention."
She managed in a low whisper, "I wasn't uncomfortable."
"You seemed uncomfortable," he muttered. "After. With Lisa."
Thinking back to how she had been unable to look him in the eye, she frowned. She couldn't quite tell in the dim yellow light from the distant street lamps, but she thought there was colour suffusing his cheeks.
She ventured down towards the beach, fixing her focus on the sand sliding into her sandals. "Maybe I just didn't know what to make of it."
"Right." He followed alongside, peering at the night sky. "That's fine."
Despite her interest in burrowing into the sand so they didn't have to have this conversation, Hermione waved a hand, feeling the words push from her mouth of their own accord. "You know, because I'll be leaving fairly soon, and obviously there's no point in – even if – not that, you know –"
"Granger," he interrupted, lips curling into a smirk. "Understood."
He dropped to the beach in his jeans, legs stretched out in front of him and Hermione settled alongside, folding her legs beneath her. His jaw was scruffy with stubble again, and it seemed more natural, now that she was used to seeing him that way.
With a jolt, Hermione realized he was fiddling with a large silver signet ring that she'd seen him wear a few times but hadn't given it much thought.
Following her stare to his hands, he snorted. "Should toss this bloody thing into the ocean."
It was then she noticed the elegant M shaped around a twisted snake. She swallowed, feeling worlds away from any place where his surname mattered. She mused softly, "Won't you pass it on some day?"
His jaw clenched and body shifted with a shrug. "Only if I still cared about any of that. Let the bleeding house rot."
She knew his father was in Azkaban on a life sentence, but she frowned. "Don't you talk to your mother?"
"Sometimes," he muttered. "She knows how to reach me if she wants to see me." His gaze slid to hers. "What about you? I heard something about your parents, I thought, during the war."
Blinking, confusion tugged at her mind. "You heard about them?"
His face darkened again. "Right. The Death Eaters sent to find them – couldn't."
Her vision went black as a rough breath chased from her lungs, leaving Hermione gaping and choking on nothing as her eyes widened in surprise. She clutched at her chest. "They – what –"
Something broken crossed his expression. "You sent them away."
"I did," she whispered, adrenaline chasing through her veins. She was hyper-aware of her pulse roaring in her ears. "I erased myself from their memories."
The air between them was tense, and Hermione grasped a handful of sand to ground herself, concentrating on its coarse texture as her heart raced and stuttered in her chest. Finally she sought his stare, hating the pity in his eyes, but clinging to those grey depths like a lifeline.
He swallowed, and said, "You saved their lives, Granger."
Clapping a hand to her mouth, she felt the rising sting of moisture at the corners of her eyes as she gave a slow nod, his words sinking in with a force she never could have anticipated.
Swiping at her eye as a lone tear broke, she whispered, "It was irreversible. The healers have tried, but…"
"Fuck." Malfoy shook his head, running a hand through his hair; it glistened with the white light of the moon overhead and Hermione found herself blinking at him. "I'm sorry, Granger."
"Thank you," she managed, eyes wide. "For telling me. All this time I've wondered…"
"Whether it was worth it," he finished, hand flexing in the sand between them. "Well, it was."
Despite the pain and struggle she'd faced since the final battle – the many failed attempts to restore their memories – she felt a part of that burden slough away with a great heaved sigh, washed out into the ocean like the endless rolling tide.
Drawing her knees up to her chest, she dropped her face into her knees, feeling overwhelmed with unexpected emotion. After a long, wrought moment of silence, she felt Malfoy's hand on her bare shoulder nearest him, his long fingers curling around her arm in a brief squeeze.
With a drawn-out exhale she looked up, feeling lighter with his revelation.
Malfoy's gaze was fixed on the horizon, his hair ruffled in a rising breeze as clouds drifted through the night sky. They were a far stretch down from anyone else, and the beach felt remarkably private.
Hermione picked at a few small stones in the sand, collecting them in her palm. She murmured, "I'm glad I'm here. Glad I stayed, after all."
He replied, "It's a good place."
"And," she went on, steeling her nerves, "I'm glad I ran into you. I might have lived out my life thinking something else entirely, you know?"
"I know," he said with a nod. "And same, by the way. You were always just… Potter's swotty Gryffindor friend." His gaze flickered to her, apologetic. "Muggle-born friend. Everything I'd been taught to hate."
"Right," she forced a swallow. "I guess I can understand that." A musing smile curled her lips. "But here you are, friends with Muggles."
His brows flickered in time with his chuckle. "If dear old Lucius could see me now."
A bright laugh escaped her lips as she turned to him with a grin. "He would hate it."
"Good." He snickered, grinning at her before turning back to the ocean. "Very good. Fuck, look at those swells."
Startled at the change of topic, she followed his stare to where the waves were crashing, far out in the ocean. "I couldn't surf those," she managed.
"Not many people can," he said. "Mikhael could. Storm's rolling in."
Grey clouds were shifting and drifting past with haste, and Hermione peered up, planting her hands back into the sand behind her. "Think it's going to rain?"
"Probably."
Even as she spoke the words, she felt the first light drops of rain and leaned back, eyes fluttering shut as silence fell between them.
Within a few minutes, the rain picked up and when she glanced at Malfoy his pale hair was wet, a smirk on his lips as he glanced at her waterlogged curls.
Apologetically, she said, "Maybe we ought to go."
"If you can't handle a little rain," he returned, lips twitching.
A breeze gusted past, sending a shiver down her spine from the cold and wet of the falling rain. She gave a flippant shrug. "I'm fine."
"Good."
A great clap of thunder sounded in the distance over the ocean, startling Hermione. Her eyes widened, sliding to meet his. "Should we get inside?"
"Probably," he murmured. "It's pretty far off yet, though. Might not even make it too far inland."
Hermione watched the raindrops prance along the surface of the ocean, raising in intensity until she was soaked, and her shirt was plastered to her skin. Malfoy huffed a laugh, wiping rain from his face.
"Maybe now we should go."
Her lips curled and she shook her head, rising to her feet as the sky opened up, releasing a violent deluge upon them. With a laugh she made for his Jeep, her sandals snagging on the wet sand.
Arms belted around her waist from behind and a small shriek of surprise chased from her lips as Malfoy swung her around, depositing her behind him as he carried on.
He cracked her a grin as she caught up and shouldered into him from the side, knocking him off balance and he reached for her, arms coming around her shoulders as he nudged her over into the sand.
Releasing a huffed affront, she kicked him in the ankles, just hard enough to knock him down into the sand beside her. Attempting to rise, Hermione stumbled and he grabbed her wrist, pushing her back down as the rain poured over them both and she struggled to get free with a laugh.
Malfoy was stronger when she tried to shove him away, grabbing a handful of sand and throwing it blindly; some of it landed in his hair and he gasped an exaggerated huff of annoyance, tugging at her drenched curls as she lay in the sand, rolling to face him with her eyes narrowed.
She could see the challenge in his eyes as she extracted her wrist from his loosened grip, and she pushed him into the sand, scrambling to her feet as she made once more for the Jeep.
But Malfoy caught her, his longer legs catching up to her in a handful of strides, and Hermione felt herself land on her back in the sand again, an infectious and unstoppable laugh chasing from her stomach.
She was covered in wet sand, and when she looked over, so was Malfoy. He looked such a departure from the version of him she remembered from school, and she found herself smiling up at him as he collapsed into the sand beside her.
Breathing heavily, Hermione shoved a handful of sand at him and his eyes flashed as he held tight to her wrist again, leaning over the top of her to secure her on the beach.
Her chest heaved, and his expression faltered as he stared down at her, letting go of her wrist.
A laugh died in her throat and she pressed her lips together into a thick swallow.
Water poured from the back of his head, even as the intensity of the rain let up; her mouth felt dry.
Malfoy had one hand planted in the sand beside her head, the other near her hip and he stared down at her, eyes tight as if he didn't know what to make of her.
Hermione hardly felt the racing of her heart in her chest as her gaze fell to his mouth; his tongue flicked out, moistening his lower lip, and something clenched deep in her belly.
Her fingers grazed the back of his hand planted beside hers; something flashed in his dark eyes. Shallow breaths chased from her mouth as she stared at him, and he must have seen something in her gaze –
He ducked in, his mouth meeting hers. The kiss was hesitant, teasing, testing the waters between them. Her eyes fluttered shut at the contact, something hot and urgent rearing to life in her core as she threaded a hand into his wet hair.
Acting on instinct and burying the rest, her indecisions and doubts, Hermione swept her tongue along his lips and his mouth opened to her, one of his hands sinking into her curls as he pressed closer, angling his lips so he could delve into her mouth with his tongue.
A whimper escaped her throat at the feel of his body against hers, and Hermione kissed him harder, one hand trailing down his back to move him closer still.
With a groan, he shifted above her fully, his other hand grasping a tight hold of her hip and dragging down her thigh, hitching her leg up to his hip as his mouth played hers, his tongue grazing and teasing her own.
His thigh pressed into her core and he swallowed her groan, shifting to drag his teeth along the curve of her jaw, pressing a string of kisses to the curve of her neck. Hermione arched her back into him, her leg curling around his back as he ground against her, slow and teasing.
Drawing her bottom lip between her teeth to keep from crying out, her hand tugged at his hair, head digging back into the sand as he slid the strap of her tank top down her shoulder, sucking at the skin of her collarbone.
Then he was kissing her again, meticulous but heated, and she drew him still closer, heat racing through her blood as she ground her hips against his, biting down on his lower lip.
One of his hands slid down to palm her arse, dragging her into an angle against him that caused them both to groan into each other's mouths. Grinding absently against him, she could feel his hard-on pressed into her core and a heavy exhale escaped her mouth as he tore away.
"Granger," he choked, his chest heaving and swollen lips parted.
Hermione only stared up at him, her eyes searching out his. "What –" she managed, shaking her head. She drew him back down, lips clashing with his and his tongue grazed hers again, languid and sensual, before they parted.
"Fuck," he groaned, long and drawn out, pressing his forehead into her temple. When he drew away he offered a heart-rending, crooked grin, and Hermione's heart tossed in her chest even as her core throbbed and pulsed.
It took several long, hazy blinks for Hermione to realize the rain had slowed to a light spittle, the dark clouds mostly carried on.
Without a word, Malfoy rolled onto his back beside her, staring up at the dark night sky.
Her mind was abuzz with thoughts and words that demanded to be spoken, but she only rolled onto her side, eyeing him with caution. Her heart raced as his grey eyes met hers, lips curling into a secretive smirk.
A smile tugged at Hermione's lips when he reached an arm out above her shoulders, and she tucked herself into his hold, a hand teasing the wet fabric of his shirt as she made herself comfortable against his chest.
Suppressing the ravenous thoughts, she allowed her eyelids to flutter as he pressed a kiss into her wet, sandy curls.
And allowed herself, for once, to just go with it.
Author's Note: Hello friends! The love for this story continues to overwhelm, thrill, and deeply humble me. You're all so wonderful and I love hearing your thoughts on each chapter. As of last night, Boardwalk is written in its entirety! I hope you enjoy this chapter.
Alpha love to Kyonomiko and LadyKenz347, and beta love to I was BOTWP - go check them out and drop some love!