The sun was just starting to set, casting a golden glow over the coastline, the sky bleeding soft shades of pink and orange. You stood out on the balcony of the beachside hotel, the ocean breeze brushing against your bare back. The white sundress you wore clung softly to your frame, the light fabric swaying as Theo’s arms snaked around your waist from behind.

“You know,” he murmured, his breath warm against your skin as he pressed a slow kiss to your cheek, “for someone raised by a bloke who swears Nargles live in sunscreen bottles… you’re handling LA surprisingly well.”

You huffed a quiet laugh, leaning back against him, feeling his fingers lazily tracing patterns on your hips. “Don’t jinx it, Nott… Dad might show up with a bloody sunhat charmed to chase me around.”

Theo smirked, burying his face against your temple as he pressed another kiss, and another—light, teasing—across your cheek, the corner of your jaw. “Let him try. I’ll hex the thing on sight.”

The sound of the waves crashing below mixed with his low chuckle. And for once, you felt grounded—here, miles away from England, from the Lovegood madness, from magic. Just you, Theodore, and the sun dipping into the Pacific.