If there's any truth that Hermione's beginning to acknowledge as universal, it's the fact that everything moves on. Wounds heal, cracks fill, everything smoothing over once enough time passes and enough opportunities are found. The battle to situate herself on the island is not one that Hermione enjoys fighting, the choice between making a home and returning to one always warring in her mind. But it could be worse. It could be worse, and it has been worse, and today, with the sun shining down and a light breeze at her arms, Hermione finds herself hard-pressed to complain. She smiles at the man who approaches, still feeling that warmth whenever someone goes out of their way to greet her.
People on the island are, indeed, kind.
"Fairly well, actually," she replies with a soft nod. "Things are going well today. And yourself? It looks like you've brought in quite a catch."
Some things are still more of a reflex than others, especially certain mannerisms he tends to slip back into from time to time. Being on the island is a constant reminder of home. It makes the living here that much easier, the fact that this could just as easily be Oahu if he closed his eyes and allowed himself to perceive it as such. Growing up on Hawaii had taught him all the local slang, the ability to fall back into the speak of the people he'd learned from, surfed with, played football alongside. They're words he catches himself using even now, before he remembers that not everyone is probably familiar - this young woman being one of them, especially if her accent is any indication. There's something in her quiet observance of him - and the accent, undoubtedly - that reminds him of Danny's former Rachel.
"It was a good day out there. The water's clear, calm. It'll start to pick up soon, though. I was almost tempted to head back out there later to catch some quick waves," he admits, peering in the direction of the water.
Hermione appreciates the view as much as anyone else on the island does, she believes. There is something calming about the constant crash of waves, the way the foam picks up and rolls onto the shore, leaves behind the tiniest of bubbles that tickle underneath one's feet. The cleanliness of the place is certainly something that Hermione appreciates as well. With magic, keeping a place tidy and clean often comes to be easier than it is for muggles, but having split her time a great deal growing up, Hermione knows just how hard it is to keep a place in pristine condition, that it takes the efforts of a great deal of people, pieced together. It's only a relative lack of familiarity of the waves and their tendencies that keeps her from wandering out into the water more often
( ... )
"It's mostly a challenge of balance," Steve replies, shrugging briefly. "I've taught a couple people outside of a class already, and some of them have done really well." Buffy took to it fairly naturally after the first initial falls, but she has this self-possession in her that Steve's still trying to figure out, inner strength that doesn't seem completely natural for someone of her stature. But he's never gotten around to actually asking her outright, and that doesn't necessarily mean he doesn't enjoy her company otherwise. It just means his curiosity has been piqued - officially. He glances back down at the girl and smiles.
"Once you get the hang of it, there's literally nothing else like it in the world," he promises, momentarily reflecting on the memory of catching his very first wave and that elation he still experiences every time he has since then.
"You sell it well," Hermione laughs, light and easy, as she tilts her head and tries to consider what it might be like to ride the waves out there, to rise and fall with the ocean, to feel the crash of mist against her face. All of the thoughts are conjured up by her imagination; she has no way of knowing what it might really be like, but being suddenly struck with the image of learning how to surf and, possibly- just possibly- unveiling her newfound skill to the boys at the proper moment, she finds her eyes lighting up. It's such a small thing compared to all else she does on the island, such a small thing in the grand scheme of things
( ... )
"I was born in Hawaii," Steve tells her, smiling slowly. Talking about the islands is always something of a bittersweet topic, but he's never not going to discuss the fact that he loves them. In a way, it makes sense that he would've inevitably gone back there to protect them, to keep them safe, the way his father had kept them safe for him and Mary growing up. He missed out on some bonding with John, but he'd also made some pretty good memories as a kid. "This place - it's almost like coming home for me
( ... )
"Oh, that's lovely," Hermione breathes, heart skipping a beat at the very thought of coming home. It's something that she's let go, ever since she set out for the horcruxes with Harry and Ron. Not expecting to ever find the walls of her house lined with the same pictures, painted with the same hues, not expecting to find a closet full of her summer clothes, the ones she never did have to take to Hogwarts in full, most of their time spent wearing their robes. Thinking of home, she imagines her parents. Thinking of home, she imagines stones laid upon stones, imagines staircases shifting and turning as their steps draw closer, and Hermione envies the fact that Steve gets that feeling from being here at all. She doesn't, and that hole in her chest aches for it. "I'm so glad that you're able to think of this place like that. Anyone who can take full advantage of this place should. I haven't done a great job of it, but maybe
( ... )
"I fully realize that I've probably adjusted easier and faster than a lot of other people here," Steve admits, looking down at the bag he's set by their feet, its mesh exterior stretched almost to the point of bursting by shells. It's been a good haul today, but only because the conditions are right. There are some days he doesn't even dare to go out if the water looks even remotely murky, if there are clouds creeping in. He'd get caught out in it somehow, and if something happened to him, Danny'd find a way to resurrect him before never forgiving him again.
"It's no trouble," he assures her, smiling in return. Something about her name rings a distant bell, but that seems to be the case with a few people, and he makes a mental note to ask Danny about it later. "We may have to size you for a board, although if there isn't one available, I can make one. I've been meaning to start in on doing that, anyway."
Briefly wondering if she should be trying to find a second bag for the catch of the day, Hermione shakes the thought of her mind, figuring that Steve will let her in if anything of the sort of necessary, and hoping that he's the type who doesn't shy away from asking favors. Situations like this are never easy for Hermione to weave through, not wanting to seem impertinent by asking after something which may not be needed at all, but also not wanting to stay completely idle and letting Steve do all of the work.
Instead, she crosses her arms over her chest with a curious smile, tilting her head. "I admit, I have never once stopped to wonder what surfboards are made of, but now I can't help but ask. I think, between the bright colors and obviously low density, I'd always assumed it was some kind of synthetic foam or a light plastic, but if you can them on the island, are they... fashioned out of wood?" Hermione asks, brow furrowing in fascination.
"Traditionally, that's the case, but I'm pretty sure none of those materials are going to be available here. You can fashion them out of wood, if nothing else is around, and they'll still serve just as well as the more synthetic boards," Steve explains. Some of the older surfers he knew still went the traditional route with their boards, shying away from anything that wasn't a natural material, or a source that wasn't occurring in nature. He could admire them for that choice, one that appeared to go along with the whole mentality of island living.
"The benefit of making a board from scratch is that it'll be customized to fit the user exactly," Steve adds. "You've got to make sure you have a board that corresponds to your height, or the dimensions will be all wrong and you'll struggle more than is normal." Granted, the only board he uses these days came over with Danny, so it's a little short for him, but he's been surfing long enough to be able to know how to compensate for the difference.
She grabs onto every word of his, eager to learn, her eyes wide even as her gaze falls, distant while she tries to picture all of the forces that come into play. After all, as much as there is surely an art to finding the proper wood and shaving it down to the correct size, Hermione is sure that there's a lot that math can account for as well; while most of her time in the past has been put towards making sure that each and every wave of her wand is accurate, here she needs to work directly with the materials, and the thought of it draws butterflies to her stomach in the excitement
( ... )
People on the island are, indeed, kind.
"Fairly well, actually," she replies with a soft nod. "Things are going well today. And yourself? It looks like you've brought in quite a catch."
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"It was a good day out there. The water's clear, calm. It'll start to pick up soon, though. I was almost tempted to head back out there later to catch some quick waves," he admits, peering in the direction of the water.
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"Once you get the hang of it, there's literally nothing else like it in the world," he promises, momentarily reflecting on the memory of catching his very first wave and that elation he still experiences every time he has since then.
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"It's no trouble," he assures her, smiling in return. Something about her name rings a distant bell, but that seems to be the case with a few people, and he makes a mental note to ask Danny about it later. "We may have to size you for a board, although if there isn't one available, I can make one. I've been meaning to start in on doing that, anyway."
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Instead, she crosses her arms over her chest with a curious smile, tilting her head. "I admit, I have never once stopped to wonder what surfboards are made of, but now I can't help but ask. I think, between the bright colors and obviously low density, I'd always assumed it was some kind of synthetic foam or a light plastic, but if you can them on the island, are they... fashioned out of wood?" Hermione asks, brow furrowing in fascination.
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"The benefit of making a board from scratch is that it'll be customized to fit the user exactly," Steve adds. "You've got to make sure you have a board that corresponds to your height, or the dimensions will be all wrong and you'll struggle more than is normal." Granted, the only board he uses these days came over with Danny, so it's a little short for him, but he's been surfing long enough to be able to know how to compensate for the difference.
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