A Meeting Apon the Shore
The sun was sinking low on the horizon, casting a golden sheen over the rolling waves. The beach stretched for miles, untouched by tourists or the distractions of the world beyond. It was the kind of place where secrets could thrive, where the edges between reality and magic blurred.
Orca stood at the water’s edge, her light brown hair damp from the sea spray and clinging to her shoulders. Her bare feet sank into the wet sand, grounding her as she worked. Her hands were alight with magic, soft tendrils of blue and silver twisting from her fingertips and weaving into intricate patterns in the air.
The ocean responded to her call.
As her hands moved, the water rose in spiraling columns, bending and reshaping itself at her will. A ball of seawater hovered before her, glistening and refracting the evening light. She smiled faintly, flicking her wrist, and the orb transformed into a shimmering dolphin that leapt and swirled through the air before collapsing back into the sea.
This magic—wild and untamed—came as naturally to Orca as breathing. It had no incantations, no rigid structure. It was a dance of instinct and energy, a connection to the currents that had raised her.
But the ocean wasn’t her only audience.
Draco Malfoy had wandered down the beach, seeking solace from the stifling formality of his family’s estate. He had grown bored of politics and his mother’s subtle attempts to introduce him to “appropriate female company.” Their vacation home, he’d thought, would be quiet—just him and the sea breeze.
Then he saw her.
At first, he thought she was a mirage, a trick of the fading light. But as he crept closer, his sharp grey eyes widened in disbelief. The girl was performing magic, but not the kind he had seen at Hogwarts or anywhere else.
She wasn’t holding a wand.
Draco stopped in his tracks, his breath catching as she conjured another spectacle. A wave rose behind her, curling high like the crest of a dragon. She turned, lifting both hands, and the wave froze mid-crash. Slowly, she drew it backward, reshaping the water into an enormous, translucent bird.
Draco watched, slack-jawed, as the bird took flight, its wings made of seawater and sunlight.
She’s incredible, he thought.
The bird dissolved in a spray of mist, and the girl laughed—a sound that carried over the waves and sent an odd shiver down his spine.
It wasn’t until the magic settled, and she turned to the sea, that Draco realized he had been holding his breath. He exhaled shakily and took a step forward.
The crunch of sand under his boot startled her.
Orca spun around, her eyes narrowing in alarm. She instinctively raised her hand, and the water behind her rippled as if ready to strike.
“Wait!” Draco held up his hands, palms out. “I didn’t mean to—uh—startle you.”
Her gaze was piercing, her stance guarded. “Who are you?”
“I could ask you the same thing,” Draco replied, though his voice lacked its usual bite. He was too fascinated to be snarky.
She frowned, clearly unamused. “You’re trespassing.”
“This is a public beach,” he countered, taking another step closer. “And anyway, I wasn’t the one drawing attention with... whatever that was.” He gestured vaguely at the water.
Her posture didn’t relax. If anything, she seemed more on edge.
“What do you want?” she asked sharply.
Draco hesitated. He didn’t know what he wanted—at least, not entirely. But something about her, about the way she commanded the ocean as if it were an extension of herself, made him want to stay.
“That was... incredible,” he said finally, his voice softer. “The magic. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Orca tilted her head slightly, studying him. “You’re a wizard?”
He straightened, a flicker of his usual pride returning. “Of course. Draco Malfoy.”
The name didn’t seem to mean anything to her, which threw him off balance.
“And you are?” he prompted.
“Orca,” she said cautiously.
Draco blinked. “Orca? Like... the whale?”
Her eyes flashed with annoyance. “It’s my name. Take it or leave it.”
He raised his hands again, this time in mock surrender. “Alright, Orca. No need to bite my head off.”
For a moment, they stood in silence, the ocean lapping at their feet.
“So,” Draco said, breaking the quiet. “Where did you learn to do that? The magic, I mean.”
Orca crossed her arms, her expression guarded. “Why do you care?”
“Because it’s amazing,” he admitted, surprising even himself. “You didn’t use a wand. You didn’t even say anything. It’s like... the ocean listens to you.”
Her eyes softened, just a fraction. “It does.”
Draco’s brows knitted together. “How?”
Orca hesitated. She wasn’t used to explaining herself, especially not to someone like him—a land-dweller, with his crisp clothing and sharp accent. But there was something disarming about his curiosity.
“It’s... hard to explain,” she said finally. “The magic is part of the ocean. Part of me. It’s not something you learn—it’s something you feel.”
Draco nodded slowly, as if he understood, though he didn’t.
“Can you teach it?” he asked, half-joking.
She snorted. “I doubt it. You’d probably drown trying.”
He laughed, the sound rich and unguarded. “Fair enough.”
Orca turned back to the water, her fingers twitching with the urge to conjure something else. But now that she knew she had an audience, the idea felt... strange.
Draco, however, wasn’t ready to let the moment end. “You’re not from around here, are you?”
She shook her head. “No.”
“Where, then?”
Her gaze flickered to the horizon. “Far away.”
“That’s vague.”
“It’s the truth.”
He studied her for a long moment, noting the way the glittering light caught in her hair and the slight tension in her shoulders. Whoever she was, wherever she was from, she wasn’t ordinary.