Lost In Symphony

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by ClaudiaWrites

Oh boy, she's burning to death.

And it's fucking murder.

Fire runs thickly under her skin, tongue long since numbed to the abhorrent taste of the mixed drink that momentarily swirls and sloshes in her mouth before sliding down her throat. The solo cup in her hand is the fifth of the evening, and the warmth settled in her spine from the alcohol is further boosted by the campfire that roars just a few feet away. But even under the sweltering blanket of the summer night and the crowd of bodies swaying nearby, the thing that most effectively heats the blood in her veins is the silent gaze fixed on her from across the firepit.

They've been at this for at least fifteen minutes—though time is hard to keep track of when she's got more vodka in her body than water—and she distantly wonders at what point everyone else decided to leave them alone to their little game.

He's got a soft white t-shirt stretching sinfully over broad shoulders and chest muscles, long fingers wrapped around a cup identical to hers. The beat of her pulse is loud in her reddening ears as he raises the drink to his lips, mouth curved permanently into a small smirk. He tosses it down, Adam's apple bobbing languidly, tanned skin painted vibrantly in the reds and golds of the fire blazing in between them.

And then his eyes are back on hers, glinting behind glasses and shameless in their staring.

She's burning.

"Lil, come on!" Scrambling fingers wrap around her wrist suddenly, and it's Mary, pink-cheeked and yelling as she sashays excitedly on her feet. "Dance with us!"

The 'us'Mary hollers about refers to a portion of the upperclassmen from Hogwarts High who have gathered for the week-long summer camping trip at Malvern Hills organized by four ridiculously persuasive boys, one of whom has evidently made it his life's mission to driver her spare.

A large stretch of shared camping pitches on the uneven terrain forms the makeshift dancefloor, and she eyes it for a few seconds, trying to make her drunken decision.

Considering several factors, such as the hard discomfort of the boulder under her arse, the fact that the majority of her friends are dancing with abandon a few feet away, and the knowledge that the boy she's fancied for over six months still hasn't made a move beyond eye-fucking her from across rooms and—as it turns out—open spaces, she finally nods her head and lets Mary pull her onto her feet. The world tilts a little thanks to the toxicity coursing through her blood, but she focuses on the burst of colours and music her senses have captured now that she's been given a chance to look beyond hazel eyes and chiselled jaw, and stumbles only about three times on her way to the mesh of dancing bodies.

When she allows herself a quick turn of her head to look back at him, one of his brows has arched high in obvious challenge.

She faces forward and holds back the spilling smile.

Blades of grass tickle the hyperaware skin of her ankles as she's swallowed by sounds and a swarm of shitfaced, unchaperoned teenagers. It's easy to let the spinning in her mind guide her when she screams herself hoarse, hands thrown up and lost in the symphony of a gorgeous, carefree night. She can hear Mary laughing next to her ear, and the sound prompts a mirroring of the joy on her own face; cheeks stretch wide, heart humming as laughter spills out, golden, flowing.

The presence of a body right behind her sends sweat trickling down her neck and spine, and she twists around to find the flash of a bright grin and glossy brown eyes.

"Hi, Lily!" Benjy Fenwick swings his hips exaggeratedly to the beats, clearly a fair bit drunk himself. "Glad to see you finally joined us."

Before she can wrap her mind around the words and formulate a reply, his hand finds hers and twirls her around wildly at the next crest of tune. She laughs louder now, head flung back and legs unsteady as she lets him guide her around. A few groups away, Dorcas and Marlene scream to them, and Mary shimmies her way over, leaving Lily to dance with Benjy.

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