The jungle had always been Harry's refuge, it seemed now that the rest of the beach had realised its brilliance. She couldn't go a half-day in the bush without feeling someone nearby, blundering through thickets and tangling themselves in vines in a bid to find somewhere cool, or shade. Most of the time Harry avoided the beach people as much as she could, in fear of being approached to rate whether some poor mushroom specimen was edible or not.

The only reason she approached Lily was because she could make no sense of what she was doing. She felt the thumping, hammering sound from ages away, but it wasn't an axe biting into a tree. As Harry approached Lily she got a closer look at what she was doing, but it still didn't make any sense. Harry limped forward, making a bit of noise so she didn't give Lily a fright as she asked, "What you up to, kid?" It looked like she was hammering a wooden peg into the strangler fig, for whatever reason, Harry couldn't tell.

@lilysundara​

She’s itching to get to the stage, frankly, and take up one of those instruments and make genuine merry. The sort of music being played now is lukewarm at best, and really, this party could use a jolt. First, however, there are duties Caoimhe knows she must perform, faces she’s yearning to see. Near the top of this list is her daughter, whom she cranes her neck to try and see after splitting from Faolan. These last few months have been of the less than steady sort, lukewarm as the music choices as they try to form something organic far too late. It’s a fearsome thing, trying to find where the boundaries lie, where she can and cannot stand, trying not to push too hard whilst yearning so fiercely to break down these walls. This feels like a start. Caoimhe gasps softly upon the sight of her daughter, wishing she could embrace her. She’s not sure she has the right – so she settles for praise. “Lilavati,” She greets softly with a gentle touch to her daughter’s arm so as not to startle her. “You look... positively radiant.” Her daughter, this reflection of herself but even more so her father, looking tonight like the royalty that perhaps she ought to be. Too late, though. Far too late. “I’m glad to see you here, though I suppose you’re made to attend, what with council duties.” She remembers it all – the things Lily has divulged about her past, the details about the council job, even the glimpse of a bright yellow wall she’d managed to see upon walking her daughter home one evening. They won’t amount to the things she’d missed, but oh, it’s certainly something. Just then, the band finally decides to up the tempo and the volume, and Caoimhe sighs softly in the direction of the stage before looking to Lily once more. “Would you be willing to join me out on the balcony? I’m a talented dancer, I swear by it, and we can return in a moment if you’d like. Afraid the energy tends to come and go, but I only need a brief rest.”

it’s swing. of course they’re starting with swing. sirius taps his foot as he glances around. then, catching sight of lily’s hair, he grins and heads toward her. as he walks, his steps turn into the signature pattern of swing, and by the time he reaches her, he’s beginning to flush with the thrill of weaving in and out of the crowd. he stills on the eighth beat -- well, not quite. he’s still shuffling back and forth, perfectly in rhythm with the song. ( something about banshees, he realizes, and decides not to think about it. nineteen years of wizarding music, and most of it still sounds strange. ) 

“so, evans,” he says, a challenge tucked in the quirk of his eyebrows, “i heard you could dance.”