#Dante lopez briarwood

[the-al-chemist]

•°☆Tis I, the Soup Fairy!☆°•

*trips and falls onto your balcony*

As it is wobu wed eve (like my naming convention?), I shall bestow upon ye last week's question so you may participate again tomorrow. Twice the fun!

What texture does your character absolutely hate? What about it makes their skin crawl?

My shared braincell with @lifeofkaze decided that we both needed to do some little vignettes for these asks, so here’s one featuring one of her kids as well as my own.

So Smooth…

It had been the warmest day of the year so far, and even now that the sun was setting, the air remained muggy. Reva had changed her mind about which dress to wear three times before eventually settling on a silk slip dress with thin straps in a grey colour that seemed to take on a silver hue in the light. She checked her eyeliner in the mirror before she put it on, the material sliding effortlessly down her body that it almost soothed her nerves. She hoped that the rest of the night would go so smoothly.

When she arrived at the gastropub Dante had chosen for their date — their first date, though the idea of going on a first date with someone she had known for years and already slept with twice was fairly ridiculous — she found him sitting on a table in the garden, the bright colours of his patterned shirt meant that he stood out from around the crowd.

He stood up as she approached him, a smile spreading over his face. “Don’t you scrub up well?”

“Rude.”

“You look fantastic,” Dante corrected himself. He leaned towards her, one hand moving to her waist, his lips towards her cheek. Before he kissed her, however, he abruptly stopped and moved backwards. “Shall we sit?”

Reva frowned, but she did as Dante suggested. He seemed almost twitchy as he took his seat. Maybe he was nervous. Certainly, there was something almost anxious in the way he quickly rubbed the hand that had just touched her waist rubbed against his shorts before picking up his menu. She decided not to say anything, and picked up her own.

The mood shifted as soon as they started to talk. The moment of awkwardness was soon forgotten, and they began to banter and laugh like the old friends they were. The drinks were freely flowing, the food was good, and the company even better. Reva was becoming increasingly at ease, and once their chairs had shuffled close enough together, she leant against Dante, happy to share his personal space and feel his body close to hers.

But, it seemed that the feeling wasn’t mutual. As soon as her side brushed against his arm, Dante shifted in his chair so that she wasn’t touching him at all. When she moved her leg to rest next to his, he moved away again.

Reva had never been one to mince her words. She stared at Dante in disbelief, and told him:

“I don’t have germs, you know.”

“That’s not true, everyone has germs,” replied Dante. He laughed in a self-effacing way that annoyed Reva even more.

“So, what’s with you flinching away every time I try to touch you? Do you not want to do this anymore, or—”

“What? No!” Dante shook his head. “Sorry, it’s just… This is going to sound so stupid.” He grimaced. “It’s your dress.”

“My dress?” Reva looked down at the offending item. “What’s wrong with my dress?”

“Nothing, it looks great, I just…”

Reva stared, dismayed, as Dante’s whole body shuddered, right down to the tips of his fingers. She could have sworn he almost gagged.

“It’s the feeling of it,” Dante continued, once he’d almost composed himself. “That material.”

“Silk?”

“Ugh, yes. It’s horrible.”

Before she could stop herself, Reva let out a loud laugh. “That’s ridiculous. Silk feels lovely. It’s so soft, see here.”

She took the hem of her dress and tried to touch it to Dante’s leg. He jerked away from her so quickly that he almost fell off his chair. Reva laughed again.

“It’s just silk. It’s not going to hurt you.” She ran her hand over the material, from the level of her ribcage to her hip, her expression deliberately coy. “See, it’s so smooth and silky.”

“No, it’s slimy and I hate it.”

One of Dante’s fingers was raised as if in warning, and his eyebrows were raised so high that it made his whole face look comical. Reva giggled to herself, before reaching out to touch his tattooed forearm with her hand, being sure not to let any part of her dress make contact with his skin.

“So, how’s this for a solution?” she asked. “We pay the bill, and go back to mine so I can slip into something more comfortable?”

Dante relaxed. He nodded his head, and Reva removed her hand before adding under her breath:

“Or maybe I’ll just forget the clothes altogether…”

[kathrynalicemc]

HPMAAW Day 2: Favorite OC of Others

Well these first few may be against the rules as they are technically half mine half others.. but idc I love them.

Renee & Rhys McClarnon @thatravenpuffwitch

Lennox Arcano-Thorne @endlessly-cursed

As for ones that aren’t mine at all:

Roe Malinda @gaygryffindorgal

Jupiter & Elio Durand @cursed-herbalist

Dante Briarwood @the-al-chemist

[lifeofkaze]

HPMA Appreciation Week - Day 3

MY FAVOURITE SHIP

On this wonderful third day of @endlessly-cursed HPMA Appreciation Week, it's all about love and our favourite ships. Seeing as I only have three HPMA characters and two ships in total, I figured ignoring one of them would be kinda rude, so we're going with both of them today!

DYLANIELLE - Dylan Amari & Danielle Parkin

Dylan and Dana are my only ship consisting of two OCs that are both owned by me. Their my personal epitome of childhood-friends-to-lovers, and from the very beginning of their concept, they were meant to be nothing but fun and without any real drama (screw Dana for blowing my plans, but that's another story), and that's exactly what their charm is about - their reliability. Dana is the notoriously romantic, sometimes slightly ott girl who maybe lacks a little sense of realism at times, while Dylan is the stoic, fuss-free, cba-kind of guy, who usually doesn't get what all the drama is about. They are two sides of the same coin, and while they are both so different, there is nothing that could separate them not even entitled little sisters.

Bonus: I swear that the faceclaims for Dylan and Dana have a lot of material together because of their roles in GoT was a coincidence. Honestly. But I'm not exactly complaining about it, either.

REVANTE - Reva Amari & Dante Lopez Briarwood

Who is even surprised at this point that Reva wiggled herself into this post, too? I genuinely wanted Dylan and Dana to have the spotlight today (because let's face it, having a ship between your own two OCs gets somewhat lonely at times), but the thing with Revante is - they're special. Reva and Dante were never meant to be. In fact, Reva was already in a ship by the time Dante came around, and Dante was created by @the-al-chemist with the intention of branching out to interacting with other creators outside our usual group. But... Reva wasn't happy and her ship no proper fit for her anymore. She decided she wanted to go travel the world. Dante had done so. He told her where to go. And before either Al or I knew it, these two had flaunted all our plans and had fallen in love, despite our best attempts to convince them that this wasn't the plan, guys. But ever since then, Reva and Dante have brought us nothing but joy, headaches, and laughter, and if two OCs go to such lengths to be together and be fabulous about it - what else can you do but roll with it, really?

[the-al-chemist]

HPMA Playlist

Track Listing:

Seasons of Love - Rent

Mambo No. 5 - Lou Bega

Suerte - Shakira

Ride a White Swan - T. Rex

Tiny Dancer - Elton John

I Just Can’t Wait To Be King - The Lion King

Overpass Graffiti - Ed Sheeran

Treat People With Kindness - Harry Styles

Thursday - Jess Glynne

Stacy’s Mom - Fountains of Wayne

Smells Like Teen Spirit - Nirvana

True Colours - Eva Cassidy

Dance Monkey - Tones and I

Love Story - Taylor Swift

Kokomo - The Beach Boys

Gypsy - Fleetwood Mac

Singin’ In The Rain - Singin’ In The Rain

My Father’s Eyes - Eric Clapton

Tennessee Whiskey - Chris Stapleton

Colours of the Wind - Pocahontas

Cosmic Dancer - T. Rex

Sunshine on Leith - The Proclaimers

Let Me Entertain You - Robbie Williams

She’s a Rainbow - The Rolling Stones

Empire State of Mind - Alicia Keys

I’ve Got The Magic in Me - B.o.B.

Despacito - Luis Fonsi & Daddy Yankee

Cover Me In Sunshine - P!nk

Electricity - Billy Elliot

Galway Girl - Ed Sheeran

Raise Your Glass - P!nk

Over the Rainbow/Wonderful World - Iz

[the-al-chemist]

HPMA Appreciation Day 3 - Favourite Ship

Again, I’m not picking between these two. They’re both my favourites.

Rory/Rylie (Rylie belongs to @thatravenpuffwitch)

Rylie is wonderful. She’s sweet and soft on the outside, but underneath that she is hard as nails. Only she could both tolerate and tame my bastard boy, really. And I’m so glad that she did.

Reva/Dante (Reva belongs to @lifeofkaze)

In contrast to Rylie, Reva is a tough cookie on the outside, but beneath that hard exterior is something a little vulnerable. The pairing between this chaotic whirlwind girl and my anal-retentive boy was unexpected but brings me SO much joy and fun.

Thank you both for trusting me with your characters 💛

[the-al-chemist]

She Sells

A/N: It’s here! The time has come for @usernoneexistent’s summer challenge, and the first prompt is “Seashells”. In this one, we find Dante Lopez asking for help from an old schoolfriend, and getting more than he bargained for… Warnings: mentions of alcohol, bunnies.

It had been twelve months since the re-opening of the Hog’s Head inn, and in that time it had earned itself a new and far better reputation than it had in the years previously. What had once been a dingy and seedy pub was now a vibrant and lively bar, its traditional features mingled with modern and exotic decor, postcards pinned behind the counter, and a large colourful mural covering one wall.

Even more colourful still was the patterned shirt of the young wizard behind the bar, the very wizard responsible for the changes. Although it was mid-morning, and the bar was closed, Dante Lopez was hard at work, a selection of spirits and measuring tools on the countertop in front of him, along with a notebook and pencil.

To celebrate the bar’s anniversary, Dante had decided to create a series of brand new cocktails, each inspired by a different season. He was currently working on one for summer, using the idea of a beach as inspiration. So far, what he had come up with was good, sweet and summery, but something was missing. Dante dipped the mixing stick into the cocktail and licked it, frowning. What was it?

He cast an eye over his shoulder at the pinboard of photos and postcards behind him, the image of himself and a girl with long brown hair on a beach catching his attention. Both of them were in swimwear, tanned and smiling, with an ice cream in each of their hands.

Ice cream. That was it. A cocktail float.

It was a perfect idea, except for a couple of things: he didn’t keep ice cream in the bar, and he was working to a tight budget, both financially and time-wise. Where was he going to find a large amount of ice cream in Hogsmeade at short notice, for very little money?

The answer came to him quickly, and he immediately sauntered out of the door and into the street outside, walked through the village towards a building down a small lane leading from the main street with bright pink frontage.

Dante was not the only enterprising former Hogwarts student to have taken over an establishment in Hogsmeade village. Madam Puddifoot’s Tearoom - or the Rabbit Food Café, as it was now called - had also in recent years been revamped. Gone were the chintzy pink and white doilies and floral wallpaper. Now, the tearoom was even more colourfully decorated than the Hog’s Head, and far more eclectic, too. There were crystals on all the surfaces, haphazardly knitted bunting was strung up, and several rabbits hopped around the floor.

The café was packed, as it usually was, and Dante had to take care not to bump into any of the customers as he made his way to the till, where a young witch with long blonde hair and round brown eyes was decorating a set of cupcakes, humming to herself quietly as she did so.

“Hi, Saffron,” said Dante, and the witch looked up at him and smiled broadly. “Looks like things are going well this morning.”

“Oh, yes. I’ve made guava cupcakes. I’m making them look like famous artists,” Saffron told him, and held out a cupcake to him that had the face of a one-eared man on it. “Would you like one?”

“Um, no thanks. I was actually wondering if I could buy some ingredients off you, actually. Could you spare me a tub of ice cream?”

Saffron’s smile widened even further, and she nodded her head enthusiastically.

“It’s vegan ice cream.”

“Okay,” said Dante, and Saffron slipped away, disappearing behind a curtain made of strings of seashells, still humming to herself.

“She sells seashells by the sea shore,” she sang. “The shells that she sells are seashells, I’m sure. She sells seashells-”

“I’ve never understood that song,” Dante called after her. “Why would anyone sell seashells by the sea shore?”

“Why wouldn’t they sell seashells by the sea shore?” came Saffron’s disembodied response.

“Well, it just doesn’t seem like a very lucrative business venture, that’s all.”

Saffron didn’t reply, but Dante could see the seashell curtain moving as she rummaged behind it. Closer to him, something else was moving: a blue polka-dot teapot on a shelf behind the till was wriggling, inching closer to the edge of the shelf.

“Um, Saffron? You might want to save your teapot,” Dante called out, and Saffron emerged from behind the curtain with a tub of ice cream cradled in the crook of one arm.

“Hm? Oh,” she said. She handed the ice cream to Dante, reached up to the shelf, picked up the teapot, and pulled a small white rabbit out of it. “Tofu, how many times do I have to tell you? You aren’t allowed to go inside the chinaware.” She placed the rabbit on the floor and tapped it gently on its white rump, telling it, “Hop along now. Good bunny.”

“How much do I owe you for the ice cream?” Dante asked, and Saffron tilted her head to one side, frowning slightly.

“Owe?”

“Yeah, what did it cost you?”

“Oh,” Saffron stopped frowning and shook her head. “I can’t remember.”

“Right, well…” Dante’s voice tailed off as he noticed someone stand up from their table in the corner of the room and leave the café without stopping at the till. He called out to them, “Hey! Come back!”

But it was too late, the customer had already left.

“Do you want me to go and get him? I can go and get him,” Dante offered.

“Get him what?” asked Saffron.

“Just get him, you know. Make him come back.”

“Why?”

“Because he just left without paying!”

“Yes,” Saffron nodded her head and returned to decorating her cupcakes, not looking concerned in the slightest. “Yes, sometimes people do leave without paying.”

“That’s awful, Saff,” Dante frowned. “Have you tried doing anything to stop it?”

“No.”

“Maybe you should.”

“But what about the people who can’t afford to pay anything?”

Dante blinked. “What?”

“What about the people who can’t afford-”

“No, no, I heard you, I just…” Dante shook his head. “If people can’t afford to buy anything they shouldn’t be coming in here to eat.”

“Oh,” said Saffron. “That’s not very fair.”

“It’s just how things work. You want to buy something, you have to pay for it.”

“Yes, I suppose so. Most people do pay something.”

“Something?” Dante’s mouth dropped open. “Hang on. How much are you actually charging people, Saff?”

“Charging?”

“Yeah, how much do you ask people to pay?”

“Whatever they want to pay,” said Saffron simply. Dante was speechless. “Well, cakes go off if they aren’t eaten. I’d much rather they got eaten, it’s ever so sad throwing them away.”

“But… Do you make profit like that?”

“I suppose so. I’ve never checked.”

Saffron started singing to herself, and Dante frowned. He had never thought Saffron to be the most businesslike of his acquaintances, and it appeared that he was correct. He was also far more concerned by Saffron’s lack of business acumen than Saffron was herself.

“Tell you what, Saff,” he said, eventually, as Saffron piped a flower crown and monobrow onto another cupcake artist, “I’ve always been pretty good at sums. Instead of paying for the ice cream, I’d like to take a look at your accounts for you, if that’s alright?”

Dante returned to the Hog’s Head laden with not just a tub of vegan ice cream, but also three bright yellow notebooks filled with the details of Saffron’s finances. He set up for the evening quickly, then spent the rest of the afternoon going through the notebooks, scratching his head with one finger as he did his calculations. And then redid his calculations.

Somehow - miraculously, even - Saffron’s café was making a decent amount of money. For every item she sold at a price far lower than it had cost her to make, she was selling at least three at profit. Considering the number of people that were eating there daily - the sheer number of transactions Dante was sifting through was almost baffling - the Rabbit Food Café was doing plenty well enough. Clearly, Saffron’s business strategy (or lack thereof) was not as ridiculous as he had thought.

He closed the notebooks and left them under the bar as he opened up for the evening. Not long after he had done so, he saw Saffron entering the bar and dancing her way through the crowd towards him.

As she approached, he started to make an ice cream cocktail for her, presenting it directly into her hand as she reached him.

Saffron smiled and pulled a beaded coin purse out of her pocket, but Dante shook his head.

“Don’t worry, Saff. This one is on the house.”

[the-al-chemist]

Happy spooky season 👻

Can I have Trick - candy for Dante?

Oh no, I’ve been tricked! 😈 thank you for the prompt - I’ve put a cut before the story because it contains some slightly mature topics - references to alcohol, exotic dancing, and swearing - well, it is a stag do! Reva and Dylan (in mention) Amari belong to @lifeofkaze

Candy

A mop cleaned the floor of the Hog’s Head Inn without anyone’s input while Dante and Reva selected which bottles they wanted from shelves behind the bar.

“It’s unlike you to leave this sort of thing to the last minute.”

“Not my fault. I’d have sorted this out two hours ago if I hadn’t been distracted,” Dante replied to Reva’s comment, and she raised her eyes over the top of a bottle of tequila. “And besides, aren’t you supposed to be the best man? Shouldn’t you be the one organising this whole thing?”

Reva smirked. “As if you’d let me do it by myself.”

“I remember what happened last time you organised a party.”

“Just as well I have you to help me then.” There was a knock at the door, and Reva jerked her head towards it. “And Tav, obviously.”

“Obviously. And how does the groom feel about this?”

“I’m not actually certain that Dylan knows.”

It being his bar, Dante strode across to the door, and opened it to reveal Rory McTavish, his old school friend, Reva’s teammate, and chronic pain in Dylan the groom’s neck.

“Oi, Reva. You’re not meant to be here,” Rory called out, sidestepping the mop as he crossed to the bar. He picked up two bottles of whiskey and looked at the labels before putting one down and taking a swig from the other. Dante closed his eyes and exhaled. “You’re banned.”

“Banned?”

“Aye. It’s a stag do, only men allowed.”

“Oh, really?” Reva’s eyes glittered. “What about Candy?”

Dante frowned. “Candy? Who’s Candy?”

“The stripper,” Rory said, taking another swig from the whiskey bottle.

“You’ve hired a stripper?”

“Technically, Reva’s footed the bill, but aye, we’re having a stripper. Little treat for Dylan, ken?”

It seemed to Dante that this ‘treat’ was more for Rory than it was for Dylan. He nodded slowly, his frown deepening.

“Will Dylan actually enjoy a stripper?”

“Everyone enjoys a stripper, Dante,” Rory informed him. He craned his head to look at the stairs that led from the back of the bar to Dante’s flat upstairs. “Where is she, anyway?”

“She isn’t here yet,” said Reva. Rory only looked a little deflated. “Should be here any minute.”

“Good. That’s the only reason I came here early, you know.”

Dante’s lips twitched as he watched Rory help himself to a third mouthful of whiskey.

“Say, Rory, have you ever heard of toxic masculinity?”

“What’s that, a band?”

“Something like that,” Dante muttered, as Reva let out a noise halfway between a cough and a snort.

“Right, if you’ll excuse me,” said Rory, straightening up and putting down the whiskey bottle, “I need to go and powder my nose. Got to make sure I look my best for Candy, after all.”

The moment he had left the room, Dante took a cloth and started to clean around the neck of the bottle Rory had been drinking from. Not even a minute had passed before there was another knock at the door.

“That’ll be her,” said Reva. Dante continued to clean the bottle. “Are you not going to answer it?”

“You hired her, Reva. She’s your stripper.”

“It’s your bar.”

“So we both answer it, okay?”

“Okay.”

As the two of them opened the door, they laid eyes upon a clean shaven man standing on the street outside, three matching suitcases of various sizes at his feet.

“Uh, can we help you?” Dante asked him.

“I believe you’re expecting me.”

“I don’t think so.”

“I’m Candy.”

Dante and Reva exchanged glances.

“Candy,” Dante repeated.

“I will be in a couple of hours, anyway. Right now I’m still just Keith.” Just Keith frowned at their confused faces. “Candy, as in ‘I, Candy’. You booked my ‘Confident as a Queen Masterclass’.” He looked up at the sign above the door and back again. “You are Reva, aren’t you?”

Reva, who had so far - for the first time since Dante had known her - been rendered speechless, blinked rapidly and nodded.

“Yeah, sorry,” she said. “Sorry, I was expecting you to be…”

“Don’t worry, sweetie. I will be every little bit as fabulous as you’d hoped I’d be as soon as I’ve got my costume on and make up done,” Keith assured them. “So, are you the bride or the maid of honour?”

“Best man, actually. My brother’s the groom.”

“Oh, that’s fantastic. I’ve never actually done a stag do before, it’s usually all hen parties. You guys are going to have so much fun. Now, do you have anywhere I can use to get ready?”

Dante helped Keith carry the suitcases to the flat upstairs, and returned to the bar to find Reva looking incredibly sheepish.

“So,” he said, raising one eyebrow at her, “was this deliberate, or did you just-”

“No, I fucked up. I fucked up.” Reva put her hands in the air. “So, what now?”

“Well, it looks like Dylan’s having a drag masterclass instead of a striptease.”

“Do you think he’ll… like that?”

“Honestly? I don’t think he’d have liked either of those things,” Dante told her. His eyes drifted in the direction of the men’s toilets, and he smirked. “But you know what he will really like?”

“What?”

“Rory learning how to be confident as a queen.”

Reva fell against Dante’s chest in a fit of giggles. The two of them stopped laughing abruptly as Rory returned from the bathroom.

“What?” he asked. “Is it Candy? Is she here yet?”

Dante and Reva made eye contact, both grinning to themselves.

“She will be soon.”

[the-al-chemist]

🧡Trick AND Treat 💜

Can I get a fact and Thunderstorm for Dante, please? 🥰

Thanks for the ask!!! 🕸

So, my fact for Dante is that although he comes across as very laid back, he actually has to work hard to control his temper. He keeps a muggle punching bag in his spare room and practises kick-boxing to help him with his anger management issue.

As for the prompt, here is a story about one of the times Dante’s temper got the better of him. It briefly features @thatravenpuffwitch’s Leo Ruserun-Hale, and mentions Dante’s father Cain, who was created as part of @kathrynalicemc’s Phoenix Resistance project. A warning - it depicts violence and bullying, and contains mentions of blood and war.

A Difficult Truth

Dante left the Great Hall having barely touched his breakfast, his feet and hands restless with anticipation. His first lesson of the day was Defence Against the Dark Arts, and today, his class would start learning about the Second Wizarding War.

Perhaps it was strange that he was so excited about the prospect of learning about such a dark and difficult time in the wizarding world’s recent history, especially considering that his father had died fighting in the war, but Dante had always wanted to know more about the father he couldn’t remember. His mother didn’t like to talk about him - it made her too sad - but she had told Dante that he was a soldier, and Dante was looking forward to learning about his father’s great battles and acts of heroism.

He was the first to arrive at the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, a full fifteen minutes before the lesson was due to begin. He tapped his foot as the minutes passed by and more of his classmates gathered in the hallways outside, all talking in low voices. A group of Ravenclaws were whispering to themselves and snickering, and one boy turned to look at Dante with a scathing look in his eyes.

“You’re here early, Briarwood,” said the boy. Dante frowned, not really understanding why he cared. “It’s funny, I’m surprised you even bothered to show up today.”

Before Dante could ask what the boy meant, one of his friends - a girl - also spoke up.

“I don’t think that I’d have the nerve to come to this lesson if my dad had been a Death Eater.”

“What?” Dante almost laughed. “My dad wasn’t a Death Eater.”

The boy and the girl and the rest of their friends actually did laugh.

“Don’t lie, Briarwood. Everyone knows all about how your dad was a supporter of You-Know-Who,” said the first boy. Dante’s frown deepened, and the boy’s mouth dropped open. “Wait, you didn’t know?” He turned and looked at the others. “He really doesn’t know!”

“Know what?”

The Ravenclaws laughed again, all except for one boy with dark skin and cropped black curly hair. He looked awkwardly at his feet and murmured quietly, “Guys, leave him alone…”

“No, Leo. Briarwood deserves to know the truth,” the first boy said. He narrowed his eyes at Dante and told him, “Your dad was a Death Eater, and-”

“You’re wrong!” said Dante, his fists clenched in raised. “My dad was a hero. He fought against You-Know-Who.”

“He fought for You-Know-Who, dummy. He had a mask and a Dark Mark and everything.”

“That’s a lie!”

“No, it’s the truth. He would be in Azkaban right now if he hadn’t been murdered. Just as well, someone that evil and twisted is better off dead…”

It was as if a dark cloud in Dante’s heart had exploded in a sudden burst of thunder and lightning. Before he even knew what he was doing, he flew at the boy, knocking him to the ground and his balled fists making contact with his chest, his cheeks, his nose. One of the girls was screaming, and someone was shouting, but Dante’s heart was pounding in his ears, drowning them out.

A pair of hands grabbed hold of Dante and dragged him back to his feet and away from the boy as he struggled against them.

“What happened here?” a voice - his teacher’s voice - demanded. Dante said nothing. There was blood on his knuckles and tears streaming down his face.

“He attacked me!”

“Only because you were saying all that stuff about his dad.”

“I was only saying what was true,” said the boy who had been taunting Dante. His nose was red and there was already a purple bruise on his cheek. “It’s not my fault that he didn’t know the truth. And it’s not my fault that he’s as violent as his Death Eater dad!”

“My dad was not a Death Eater!”

The Defence Against the Dark gave Dante a quizzical look and sighed deeply, pityingly. Dante’s eyes widened.

It was true. It was all true.

He broke free of the hands that restrained him, but instead of lunging at the boy, he ran away, leaving his thundering footsteps to echo through the corridors behind him.

[lifeofkaze]

Milagro Navideño

What would this Christmas be without a word, a present and the biggest of hugs to my favourite person, my most cherished friend, and the person who awes me both with her kindness and sheer force of talent? Who else could I be talking about other than @the-al-chemist?

Al, thank you so much for another year of friendship, laughter, exploring, trading book recommendations, tearing each other's projects apart to make them better (lovingly) and getting completely soaked in the rain because if the outdoor museum doesn't close for another hour we're going to go in, no matter what.

I can't wait for next year's adventures. Merry Christmas. I love you. 🌻🎄

Warning: Plant abuse. Plant parents, look away.

December 22nd

“And you’ll promise to behave?” The smile on Dante’s face was soft as he spoke. “You’ll be a good girl and be extra pretty for me when I come back.”

“Are you quite done yet?” came a snort from somewhere behind him. With a decidedly more mischievous smile, Dante glanced over his shoulder.

“I wouldn’t mind you looking pretty for me, too, but I know better than asking you to behave.”

Reva snorted again, this time with laughter, as she pushed herself off the doorframe and joined Dante’s side. She pointed at the big plant he had been talking to.

“What’s so special about this one, anyway?”

“This is Milagro Navideño,” Dante said proudly. “That’s Spanish for -”

“Christmas Miracle.”

He nodded. “She is very rare and only blooms every few years at Christmas. I’ve been waiting forever for her to get these.” 

He affectionately looked at the tiny buds peeking out from between fleshy, green leaves. Reaching out to touch them, Reva chuckled at Dante flinching.

“If you want me to take care of them while you’re having a ball in Spain, I’ll have to touch them. You do know that, don’t you?” 

“I’m aware,” Dante sighed. “I really wish you could come.”

“So I can meet your family, or so someone else can water your flowers?” An indignant expression passed her face when Dante didn’t reply. “Oh, how hard can it be? I was a crack at Herbology.”

“You barely even got your O.W.L.”

“I wasn’t trying.”

“In any case, I made these for you,” Dante said diplomatically, pulling out a stack of colour-coded flashcards. “Black ink are daily tasks, the green ones have to be done every three days, and the red ones are emergency measures.” He gave Reva a look. “Please make sure there won't be any emergency measures.” 

“Who do you take me for?” 

Reva reached for the flashcards, but with a flick from Dante’s wand, they fluttered away and stuck themselves to their designated pots.

“Are you sure there aren’t any questions?” he asked again. “I can still ask Dana to do it.”

“Dana won’t arrive until Christmas Eve. Some kind of barkeep you are, wanting your plant buddies to go thirsty until then.”

“I need you to be serious about this, Reva.”

“I am.”

“No, you need to -”

“The only thing I need is for you to leave,” Reva said, turning Dante by the shoulders and marching him toward the door. 

“And you really -” 

Before he could finish, Reva grabbed him by the collar of his jumper and pressed her lips against his.

“Just go!” she laughed. “We’ll be perfectly fine, you’ll see.” 

December 23rd

The Montrose Magpies’ last match of the year was approaching fast. It was scheduled for Boxing Day, and if they were able to win against the Wigtown Wanderers, they’d be one step closer to the top of the League. 

When Reva returned from the training grounds after a long day of practice, it was all she could do not to fall asleep on the sofa. Across from her, her team- and housemate Rory McTavish slumped into an armchair, cracking his neck from side to side.

“Who knew your mum could be such a drill sergeant?” 

Reva sat up, wincing at her aching back muscles. “You know how she is when we’re playing Wigtown. She can’t handle the idea of losing to the Wanderers.”

“One thing’s for sure, the flat would have to go up in flames for me to move again.” Rory raised one eyebrow at Reva. “Not giving you ideas, I hope.”

“No, too tired for arson. The sofa and I are best friends now.”

“Rude.” Rory tilted his head at her. “Don’t you have something to take care of before you become one with the furniture?”

Reva frowned. “What would that be? Shit!” she exclaimed a moment later, almost falling off the sofa in her hurry to get up. 

“Wait with dinner,” she told Rory as she grabbed her coat and wand, “I’ll be right back.” 

Dante’s flat was quiet when Reva entered it. She switched on all the lights and looked around, not sure what she had expected. This was silly, she chided herself, they were only plants. She had left them unattended for just a little over twenty-four hours; not like they would wilt and perish from a bit of alone-time.

Humming a song she had heard Dante sing the other day, she set to work, watering the plants in the guest rooms, the kitchen, the hallway and the living room. She had never realised just how many plants Dante had actually accumulated, but she diligently checked each and every pot for instructions. By the time she reached the bedroom, her already tired arms were aching. 

She looked at the remaining plant pots thoughtfully. Surely they would be fine without that extra bit of water until the morning? Reva shook off the thought immediately. It didn’t matter whether she found all of this redundant or not. Dante cared about his plants, and she cared about him; she would do as he had asked her to. 

Adjusting her grip on the watering can, Reva worked her way along the shelves. When she turned to refill it, she misjudged her momentum and heavily bumped against a tall rack filled with succulents. She watched with wide eyes as it swayed, the plant pots on it sliding towards the edge. The shelf teetered, seeming to stop in mid-air for a moment, and came crashing to the ground with a mighty slam.

Her heart hammering in her chest, Reva took in the mess of splintered wood, ceramic shards and soil littering the floorboards. Her throat grew tight as her eyes fell on the colourful remains of what had been the pot of Dante’s Christmas plant, now buried beneath the upper edge of the shelf. Of the plant itself, nothing could be seen. 

Reva hastily took out her wand, repairing everything as best she could. Most of the plants looked worse for wear, but there was nothing to be done about it now. She inspected the broken leaves of the Christmas plant with a worried frown before turning it around so its good side was facing the room. Maybe Dante wouldn’t notice right away.

The only problem that remained was the flashcards. They had fallen off during the crash, and Reva had no idea which one went where. Eventually, she shrugged it off. There was no way to fix this without messaging Dante - which was out of the question - so she watered each of the plants ad libitum, with a little bit of extra to make up for the commotion she had caused. 

Satisfied with her day’s work, Reva switched off the lights and left. 

December 24th

When Reva opened the door to Dante’s flat on the morning of Christmas Eve, she found her hopes of finding the repotted plants up and well crushed.

There hadn’t been enough pot saucers for all plants, so she had distributed them at random. Now, puddles of water were covering the floor, while most of the plants were either hanging their heads or had collapsed onto the rims of their pots altogether. 

With a curse on her lips, Reva’s eyes settled on the Christmas plant. Because it was so special to Dante and she had been sorry for crushing it underneath the shelf, she had given it an extra generous amount of water; as a result, its leaves were now a yellowish green and hanging limply from the stem.

Panic was rising in her chest. She needed to do something, and she needed to do it now.

Once she had calmed down, Reva carried all of the leaking pots into the kitchen, magically desiccated them and picked the correct soil for each of them with the help of Dante’s books and her buried Herbology knowledge.

By the end of the day, Dante’s flat was clean, and most plants still a bit ragged but otherwise upright and well. Reva breathed a sigh of relief as she put the last of them onto the shelf. The feeling disappeared, however, when she turned to face her problem child. 

Milagro Navideño hadn’t appreciated Reva’s efforts at resuscitation. It had looked sickly before, but now its colour had changed from yellow to almost grey. It was on the verge of dying, even Reva could tell that much, but she refused to give up just yet. 

She had to save this plant, no matter what. 

***

The light coming from her parents’ windows was warm and golden when Reva Apparated to their front door. She paused to listen to the mix of voices and laughter drifting outside, a smile forming on her face that wavered only slightly as she adjusted the plant pot in her arms and entered. 

After a round of hugs and hellos, Reva’s brother Dylan nodded at the plant in Reva’s hands.

“Who has been naughty enough to get that thing for Christmas?”

“No one,” Reva said defensively. “It’s Dante’s.”

“I didn’t know you wanted to break up with him.” 

“What’s the matter with it?” Dylan’s girlfriend Dana asked sympathetically, after elbowing Dylan into the side. 

With a deep sigh, Reva handed Milagro to her and recounted what had happened. Nodding every now and again, Dana inspected the sickly plant, prodding and probing it carefully. 

“I don’t even know where to start with this,” she sighed eventually as she handed Reva the plant back. 

“Is there nothing you can do at all?”

“Nothing that would help short term. When is Dante coming home?”

“The day after Boxing Day.” 

“That won’t be enough time, I’m afraid.”

Reva hung her head. “Can’t we just give it a Growth Potion or something?”

A look of alarm flickered over Dana’s face. “It might work, but…”

“Let’s do it then!”

“No, there’s no saying what a Growth Potion would do after everything you’ve done with it. It might kill it for good.”

Dana wasn’t to be swayed from her resolution, so Reva let the topic drop. When the rest of her family had gone to sleep, she took the small bottle from Dante’s personal storage from her pocket. Holding the potion into the light coming from the window of her old bedroom, Reva thoughtfully tilted it this way and that. 

Then she shrugged, unstoppered it, and upended the whole thing into the plant plot.

It wasn’t like it could get any worse. 

December 27th

Like so often, Reva had been wrong.

On the morning of Christmas Day, she had woken to something repeatedly brushing her cheek. Thinking that Vega, her mother’s one-eyed calico cat, had snuck into her room, Reva had tried to push her away without opening her eyes.

By the time she had realised that whatever was bothering her didn’t feel like Vega’s fur at all, half her room had already been covered by thrashing Milagro vines. Almost falling out of bed in her hurry to get up, Reva made short work of the proliferating plant and hexed it back to its original state.

She hadn’t told anyone about her little mishap with the Growth Potion, and since she was now thoroughly fed up with Dante’s stupid plant, Reva had dumped it into his bedroom and decided to forget about it for the time being.

On the day Dante would return from Spain, she couldn’t push her bad conscience away any longer. She nervously waited for his Portkey to arrive, trying to keep her face straight when Dante took her into his arms and kissed her. 

After finding their way back to the flat above the Hogshead Inn, Reva’s joy at Dante’s return had turned into a nervous flutter in her stomach. As they were about to enter the door, Dante paused. 

“Are you alright? You’ve been very quiet.”

“Just the match yesterday,” Reva fibbed. “It got pretty late.”

Dante raised eyebrows ever so slightly, but didn’t comment any further. When he dropped his bag in the hallway and turned to her with a smile, Reva stifled a sigh of relief. He hadn’t noticed anything yet; another moment of calm before the inevitable.

“It’s good to be home,” he said with a content look around. His eyes settled on her. “I missed you over Christmas.”

“I missed you, too,” Reva sighed. “You have no idea how much.”

“So sentimental, that’s new.” The corners of his mouth twitching, Dante pulled a neatly wrapped gift from his bag, the paper as outrageously patterned as his favourite shirts. “I’ve been looking forward to giving you this. Merry Christmas.”

Seeing the present in Dante’s hands, Reva froze. She had gotten him something as well, of course, but over the drama of the past few days, she had entirely forgotten about it. Her thoughts racing, she took her gift and kissed Dante on the cheek. 

“I didn’t know we’d exchange gifts right here in the hallway,” she mumbled, frantically trying to come up with a plan. “I’ll just go and fetch yours. It’s… in your bedroom. Yes, that’s where it is.”

Dante laughed and placed his hands on her hips. “Shouldn’t I come along then?”

“It’s not that kind of gift.”

“Shame.”

“Just wait here, will you?” Reva begged, slowly backing away. “I’ll be right back.”

The moment she closed the door to Dante’s room, she had to fight the urge to scream. Resting her hands on top of her head, she turned in the middle of the room. She had no idea what to tell Dante about why she hadn’t brought - or even wrapped - his present. She was still trying to find a proper conclusion when there was a knock on the door.

“Reva? Is everything alright?”

Nothing was, in fact, alright, and Reva had a mind to tell Dante so, but before she could, he had already entered the room. His eyes widened as he looked not at her but the spot where she had put his overwatered, desiccated, magically-grown-and-cut Christmas plant in a fit of rage.

“What have you done?” he whispered, taking a hesitant step into the room.

Reva screwed her eyes shut. “I can explain.”

“I hope so,” Dante said as he moved past her, “because you’re a bloody genius.”

Baffled, Reva opened her eyes again. When she looked at the source of all her plights, her mouth dropped open. 

It seemed like the supposedly delicate Milagro Navideño had appreciated Reva’s desperate mistreatment, because what had formerly been a cut-down ruin of sickly green leaves now stood lush and tall. The leaves had regained their shine, new buds sprouting in place of the old ones, and there, right on top, the biggest one of them had opened.

Reva moved closer, touching her fingers to the velvety petal. It was dark red with white tips, looking like someone had dipped it in the snow. The blossom’s centre emitted a sweetly smelling sap, which sat in tiny drops on the petals and sparkled in the light coming from the window. 

“Unbelievable,” Reva whispered. 

“A veritable Christmas miracle,” Dante smiled broadly and put his arm around her shoulder. “Tell me your secret. How did you get her to bloom?”

Reva swallowed, hoping he wouldn’t notice the colour rising to her cheeks. “I took good care of it, I guess.”

Dante’s laugh was warm as he pressed a kiss against her temple. “That you did, mi vida. You’re full of surprises, you know that?”

At last, Reva’s lips curved into a smile. Chuckling to herself, she rested her head against Dante’s shoulder. 

“It looks like I am.” 

[the-al-chemist]

Surprise Surprise

A/N: I didn’t think I’d be able to publish this one this week, let alone today, but here we are! It’s day 3 of @usernoneexistent’s prompts challenge as well as being Dana’s birthday. Reva has a surprise planned, and it looks like Dante will be dragged in, whether he likes it or not. Will there be “Watermelons” involved? You bet there will. Dana (in mention) and Reva both belong to @lifeofkaze. Warnings: language and mentions of alcohol.

Dante Lopez was a busy man these days. Ever since he had made the decision to purchase and completely renovate the grimy and somewhat dilapidated Hog’s Head Inn, he had been working day and night to get his new business underway. And now, finally, the end was in sight. Tomorrow evening, the Hog’s Head would have its grand reopening, no longer as a spit-and-sawdust type of pub, but a - hopefully - trendy cocktail bar.

Before it could do so, however, there was one very special event planned. It was Dante’s old school friend Dana’s birthday today, and he had agreed to have her surprise party held in the bar. This had not been his idea; if anything, he had been apprehensive about it from the start. He had enough on his plate, what with getting the bar stocked and renovated and decorated ready for its official opening. But, somehow, he had been persuaded.

“It’s a great idea, if you think about it,” Reva Amari, the younger sister of Dana’s boyfriend and organiser of the party, had told him. “This way, you’ll be able to show off the bar to people before it actually opens, and it’ll only be a small gathering, so it won’t be much work at all.”

“This is the thing,” Dante had responded. “I don’t have the time for any more work. I’m snowed under as it is.”

“Okay, maybe I phrased that wrong. It won’t be any work at all for you, because I am the one in charge of the party. It’s just that the party will be held here, in your bar. You will just be another one of the guests. Which will be great, because you’ll be too busy to enjoy the actual opening party, so this way you can relax and let off some steam. It’ll be good for you.”

Even if that hadn’t sounded tempting - after all, he did need a night off - Dante knew Reva well enough to know that arguing was a waste of his already limited time and energy. 

“You’ll really do everything?” he asked her with a sigh, a question to which Reva had nodded enthusiastically, her dark eyes lighting up and a smile spreading across her face as she did so.

“Everything. You won’t have to lift a wand, I promise.”

And so it had been settled. All Dante had to do was make sure that the bar was ready for use a day earlier than he had previously planned, which wasn’t a problem. And now, on the morning of Dana’s birthday, all he had to do was let Reva in to do her final preparations. But where was she? She had told Dante that she would be there at nine, and it was now almost ten. Had she forgotten?

Dante had almost given up hope of her arriving at all when he heard a loud knock at the door of the bar, and opened it to reveal both Reva and her best friend Zadie, each cradling a watermelon and using their wands to levitate a crate filled with several more.

“Sorry we’re late,” said Reva, directing the watermelon crate to rest on a table. “We both overslept.”

“It was my fault,” Zadie added. “I stayed over last night and we were up chatting and drinking.”

“You don’t say,” muttered Dante. The pair of them smelt like they had just come from a bar, not to one. He looked at the pile of watermelons with raised eyebrows. “Theme party, is it?”

“No, we just had this great idea yesterday afternoon. Basically, you inject them all with a load of vodka, and then cut them into slices. We did the spiking last night.”

“Fun,” Dante nodded. “Do you want a hand getting in the rest of the food and drink?”

“Ah, you see, that’s why this idea is so genius,” Reva grinned. “This way, we have food and drink covered.”

“Wait. You mean this is all the food and drink you’ve got?”

“Yeah,” Reva shared glances with Zadie, who was gnawing at her lower lip. “What’s the problem?”

“What if people don’t like vodka watermelons?” Dante asked, and Reva laughed out loud.

“Everyone likes vodka watermelons!” she said, her laughter fading as she looked at Zadie once more. “Don’t they?”

“Um, well…” Zadie frowned. “Maybe we should go and get some packets of crisps and a box of wine, just in case.”

“You are not serving box wine in my bar.”

Reva pulled a face, but shrugged. “Whatever. I’ll get a couple of packets of crisps and a few bottles of Butterbeer for the boring guests. How many crisps do you think I’ll need?”

“Depends. How many people are coming?”

“Not that many. About fifty.”

“Fifty?”

“Give or take.”

Dante’s jaw dropped open. “You said this was going to be a small gathering! Reva, that’s loads of people!”

“Is it?”

“Yes. You can’t have a party for that many people and serve them a crate of vodka watermelons, a couple of bowls of crisps, and some Butterbeer,” Dante shook his head. “Right. Let me speak to Madam Rosmerta, see if we can get more drinks sorted. I’ll rustle up a chilli this afternoon and chat to Saff on my way to the Three Broomsticks. She might be able to make a few vegan sausage rolls or cakes or something.”

“Oh, shit!” Reva grimaced and clapped one hand to her face. “I forgot to sort out a cake!”

“You forgot to sort out a cake. For a birthday party,” Dante repeated, quickly growing irritated. “Is there anything else you have neglected to organise? Music? Balloons? Is Dana even going to be there?”

The look on Reva’s face was all the answer Dante needed. She had organised absolutely nothing. He sighed heavily.

“Okay. Here’s the plan. I’ll do the food, drink and music; Zadie will make sure that Dylan gets Dana here on time; and Reva will put up some decorations. Everyone happy? Good.”

Before the girls had even had a chance to answer him, Dante had turned on his heel and left them in the bar to go up to his flat above, annoyed not only with them, but with himself as well. He should have known something like this would happen, he thought, as he took out a large cauldron and began to prepare the ingredients he would need for a chilli. The act of cooking soothed him slightly, and once the pot was gently simmering, he left the flat via the back door, and stepped out into the sunny Hogsmeade street.

He made his way to the Three Broomsticks via the Rabbit Food Café, where he spoke to Saffron Summers and explained the situation. Luckily Saffron, being both a baker and Dana’s best friend, had already made an elaborate birthday cake in the shape of a turtle without anyone having asked her to do so, and was more than happy to help with preparing more food for the party at short notice. On hearing about Dante’s plight, Madam Rosmerta, the landlady at the Three Broomsticks, was also very helpful, and so Dante returned to his flat and now nicely reducing chilli sauce feeling far more relaxed than when he had left it.

Unfortunately, Dante’s optimism quickly failed him on returning downstairs to the bar. 

“Reva,” he said, his eyes widening with horror as they took in the sight before him. “What the hell have you done?”

“I’m decorating. You told me to decorate.”

Dante would not have called what Reva was doing ‘decorating’; he would have been more likely to use the word ‘desecrating’. She was standing by the largest wall of the bar, cans of spray paint scattered on the floor around her, and the wall was now adorned with the words “Happy Birthday Dana!” in large, graffiti-style lettering. There were errant sprays of paint everywhere, on her skin, in her hair, on her clothes, on Zadie, and all over the bar. Dante’s perfect bar. His pride and joy, the very thing he had been working on day and night for months on end. He clenched his fists, not sure whether he wanted to cry, shout, hit something, or all three.

He struggled to keep his voice level as he said, “Yeah, I was thinking more along the lines of putting up some balloons or something…”

Reva shrugged and picked up another aerosol can. “Balloons are boring. This is loads better.”

“Is it?”

“Well, not yet. But it will be once I’m done.”

“I think you’ve done enough,” he muttered. Reva frowned, a confused expression that quickly hardened.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked, her paint covered hands on her hips. “I’m only doing what you asked me to do!”

“Exactly! That’s all you’ve done, because I’ve done literally everything else,” said Dante, shaking now. “I didn’t even want you to have this party in here because it was putting extra work on me that I didn’t need, but you told me that you only wanted to use the space and would be sorting it all out. And then you two rock up an hour late this morning reeking of Peach Schnapps with nothing but a load of sodding vodka watermelons, saying that what you previously told me would be a small gathering is now a party for fifty people, and that you’d done sweet eff all to organise it.”

“That’s-”

“And now, after I’ve spent my only day off in weeks running around like a headless huntsman trying to get your shit together for you, I come down here and you’ve sprayed paint all over my bar, which I’ve just spent months renovating and am opening tomorrow night!” Dante made a strangled noise and held his arms out wide. “I mean, look at this! Look at my bar!” 

“Dante, it’s okay,” said Zadie, her eyes wide and anxious looking. “We’re sorry. We can clean this up for you, and we can help with everything else.”

“Really? Because so far today I can’t see that either of you have done anything to be helpful at all.”

“I did try to be helpful,” Zadie said, shrinking away from Dante’s angry glare. She lowered her voice and added, “I carried a watermelon.”

“I DON’T GIVE A FUCK ABOUT YOUR FUCKING WATERMELONS!”

“Hey!” Reva, unlike Zadie, was not put off by Dante’s flare of temper. “Don’t shout at her! It’s not her fault!”

“No, it’s not. It’s yours,” Dante told her shortly. “So will you please just clean up this mess you’ve made and get the hell out of my bar?”

Reva opened her mouth to argue, but Dante walked away, his whole body trembling with rage. He slammed the door behind him and stomped upstairs to his flat, where he summoned a watering can and threw it into the sink. He turned the tap on so forcefully that the water gushed into it, muttering angrily to himself as he did so.

Dante had always felt at home practising Herbology, and as he tended to his many houseplants, he felt his temper begin to subside. By the time a quiet knock came at the door of his flat, he was almost completely calm again.

“Dante?” Reva’s voice called out from the other side of the door. “I’m really sorry. Zadie and I have cleaned up the bar.” She paused before adding, “Will you come out and chat?”

Dante put down his watering can and opened the door to find Reva no longer covered in paint and with a pained and remorseful look on her face. 

“I’m so sorry, Dante,” she told him. “I shouldn’t have left everything to the last minute like that, I just didn’t think about how much work went into this sort of thing, and I should definitely not have let you do all the work today. Not that I’m not grateful that you did,” she added, before Dante could say anything further. “And I’m sorry that I made a mess. Like I said, it’s all cleared up now.”

“All of it?” Dante raised an eyebrow.

“Well... Maybe you should come and see.”

Reva smiled and - somewhat apprehensively - Dante followed her back down to the bar. He was pleasantly surprised to see that the mess had indeed been cleared up - and then some.

The vodka watermelons had been sliced and were plated up on one table, another was laden with snacks that could have only been made by Saffron Summers, and the turtle-shaped birthday cake rested on a third. The bar itself had trays of cups and bottles of alcohol brought over from the three broomsticks, and strings of fairy lights and colourful pom-poms had been strung up as decorations. It looked ready to host a party.

“There’s a spare table to put your chilli on, and Zadie’s gone to get more plates from Saffron and Ros,” Reva informed Dante. “We’re going to take turns to be waitresses so that you don’t have to, and I promise that I’ll come back and clean everything in the morning. I’ll even help you get set up for tomorrow night, if you want.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I do. And I want to, anyway.”

Dante inclined his head. Well, if Reva wanted to help - actually help - he wasn’t going to stop her.

“Thanks for the offer,” he said, and he gestured around the room. “If you could make it look this good again, that would be great. You’ve really got a knack for decorating.”

“Well, there is one more decoration to show you,” Reva said. “It’s not for tonight, it’s more for you. A surprise, kind of. There, look.”

She pointed at the wall which had previously sported her birthday message to Dana, but had been completely repainted. Now, the wall was decorated with a graffiti mural depicting the sun setting over a beach, the image bordered by patterns like the ones Dante wore on his shirts, with hummingbirds and tropical foliage and watermelons interspersed amongst the details. It was colourful, chaotic, bold, and beautiful. 

“Wow,” said Dante, genuinely impressed.

“If you don’t like it, I can just paint over it tomorrow.”

“No, don’t do that. I do like it. I love it,” Dante told her, completely honestly. “Thank you, Reva. It’s amazing. The whole place looks amazing.”

“I’d say thanks, but you were the one who organised everything,” Reva gave Dante a coy grin. “I just spiked some watermelons with vodka and made it all look pretty.”

“Well, you did a good job.”

“I guess I did, surprisingly. Hey, we make a pretty good team, don’t we?”

Dante pulled his eyes away from the mural and chuckled at the proud look on Reva’s face.

“I guess we do.”

[the-al-chemist]

A Little Faith

Merry Christmas, @lifeofkaze. There’s so much I could say, but I’ll keep it short. Thank you so much for your friendship and everything it entails. I love you.

Summary: Dante introduces Reva to one of his Christmas traditions. Warnings: mild blasphemy.

The cool morning light broke through a small opening in the curtains and illuminated the green leaves of the plants dotted around the bedroom. But it was not the light that woke Reva from her slumber, but the sound of someone walking around.

“What time is it?” she asked, rubbing her eyes and yawning widely, once she realised that the intruder was only Dante.

As she asked the question, Dante stopped buttoning his shirt and turned to look at her, his eyes widened slightly.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” he whispered, though Reva was already awake. “Go back to sleep. I’ll leave, I was only getting ready.”

“Why? Where are you going?”

“Out.”

“But it’s a Sunday morning.”

“Exactly, I’m going to church,” Dante told her, returning to his buttons. He paused and looked back at her. “You can come with me if you like.”

Reva frowned. “Me, come to church?”

“Don’t worry if you’d rather not, I don’t mind.”

“It’s not that, it’s just… Well, would I be allowed to come to church?”

“Anyone can go to church, Reva, that’s the point of a church,” Dante chuckled. “Besides, it’s a christingle service. There will be lots of people there who don’t usually go, so you won’t be the only infidel there this morning.” He paused before adding, “As long as you don’t burst into flames the moment you cross the threshold, of course.”

“You’re hilarious,” said Reva. “That doesn’t actually happen, does it?”

Dante winked at her. “Only one way to find out.”

It was almost a dare, so now Reva had to go along with it. After managing to make herself look halfway-appropriate and quickly drinking a well-sugared mug of Dante’s favourite Colombian blend, she accompanied him down the cobbled high street of the village towards the church.

“Do you really believe in it all?” she asked him as they walked. Dante fixed her with a peculiar look.

“Yes, I do. I wouldn’t be going if I didn’t,” he replied. “Why do you look so surprised? Don’t you believe in anything?”

“No, not really. And I guess I’m surprised that you do, too, because of all the drinking and the sex outside of marriage, and the fact that you’re a bit fruity.”

Dante laughed out loud.

“Okay, so I’m the first to admit that I’m not the most devout Christian, but it’s how I was brought up, so it’s a part of me, whether I like it or not. And I do like it, actually. I like the idea that there’s something more to life than what we can just see and touch, and having faith in that, and in the world, it’s… I don’t know. Grounding, I suppose.”

“It’s balancing.”

“In a way, yes.”

Reva nodded slowly. She had not been brought up with any specific faith, but she understood the concept of seeing the world for more than its face value, even if she didn’t personally subscribe to that school of thought.

Thankfully, she did not burst into flames as she crossed the threshold of the church, a grey stone building roughly shaped like a cross. The floor had marble tiles of alternating black and white, there were large stained glass windows high in the walls, and several haphazardly decorated Christmas trees lining the outsides of the aisles. At the front, candles in round orange holders decked a tiered display, and several children and their parents had gathered around a large table nearby. Dante led her straight to the table, and placed a coin into a collection pot in the middle.

“What are you paying for?” Reva whispered.

“The christingle you’ll be making,” replied Dante. He picked up a thin white candle and placed it in her hands, along with one of the orange holders, which Reva could now see was, in fact, an actual orange. “You need to stand the candle in the orange.”

“Why?”

“Because the orange represents the world.”

“And the candle?”

“That’s Jesus, Reva.”

“Of course it is. It looks just like him.”

“It’s symbolic. Come on. You need a ribbon next.”

Reva raised her eyebrows, but she selected a piece of red ribbon as suggested. The children were tying their ribbons around their oranges, so she did the same.

“What does the ribbon represent?” she asked, tying it in a messy bow.

“Love,” whispered Dante. Reva felt her cheeks flush slightly, and Dante cleared his throat before continuing, “God’s love. All around the world.”

“Okay. What’s next?”

“We need four cocktail sticks to represent the four seasons, and some sweets. Not to eat.”

“I guessed as much.”

“The sweets symbolise the fruits of each season. It’s to give thanks for the blessings we’ve enjoyed this year, and a good wish for things to come in the year ahead.”

Reva smiled at Dante. She did have good things to be thankful for this year, after all. So, she picked up four cocktail sticks, handed two to Dante, and together the two of them selected which tiny sweets they would put on them. They stuck the sweet sticks into the orange at right angles to one another, and then Dante handed Reva a packet of matches.

“Be careful,” he said, in a voice that was low and faux-serious. “I hear that non-believers are extremely flammable.”

Reva pulled a face as she used the matches to light the candle.

“So, Jesus is on fire. Now what?”

“Now that the candle has been lit to signify that Jesus is the light of the world,” said Dante, “we pray.” Reva raised an eyebrow. “Well, I will pray. You will just have to sit here quietly and contemplate your life of sin, you utter heathen.”

He gestured towards the display of candles, and Reva placed theirs on it with the others. She followed suit as Dante knelt on a low padded bench in front of the display, but while he lowered his head and closed his eyes, she kept hers open, looking around the church, at the stained glass windows, the candles, the children putting tiny sweets on cocktail sticks. In spite of the noise they made, it was peaceful, and everything was bathed in a warm glow. Her eyes lingered on the exposed baby hairs on the back of Dante’s neck as he bowed his head in prayer, and she smiled. She would never believe in all this as he did, but she had to admit that he was right about something.

It really was nice to have just a little faith.

[the-al-chemist]

Dante Lopez Briarwood - Rent

To me, to you, and you, and you, you, and you

To people living with, living with

Living with

Not dying from disease

Let he among us without sin be the first to condemn

La Vie Bohème!

To anyone out of the mainstream

Is anyone in the mainstream?

To anyone alive with a sex drive

Tear down the wall! Aren't we all?

The opposite of war isn't peace, it's creation.

- La Vie Bohème -

Rent is one of my favourite musicals. Set in NYC during the height of the AIDs crisis, it’s a celebration of freedom, creativity, and being an outcast. I love it for Dante. The Musical Theatre AU is the brainchild of @magicallymalted.

[lifeofkaze]

Around the Globe

Summer Break Challenge, Day 4: Travel (2)

Reva Amari x Dante Lopez Briarwood

Seriously, who else could it be? She heard the prompt and wouldn't stop pestering me so... have a little Revante content *sigh*

Dante and Rory McTavish (latter in mention) belong to my favourite person in the world @the-al-chemist. Find all the stories of this challenge here. This challenge was of course created by the lovely @usernoneexistent

Dante leaned back into his chair and let his head fall back with a heavy sigh. “This is getting nowhere.”

Next to him, Reva was slouching at the table, staring at the world map spread in front of them. “How long have we been at it?”

“Don’t know.” Dante glanced at the clock above the fireplace of the Hog’s Head Inn. “Two hours?” 

Reva groaned and let her forehead sink to the table, covering most of Asia with her hair. “Who would have thought agreeing on a travel destination would be so hard?”

“Who would have thought you’d be so stubborn?”

“Me?” Reva replied, glancing up at Dante with raised eyebrows. “I’m not the stubborn mule here.” 

Dante looked at her briefly before shaking his head with a laugh. “Let’s go over this again,” he suggested. “I still don’t see what’s wrong with Bali?” 

“I’ve been to Bali.”

“Knowing you, you only saw two beaches and the odd sacred monument to defile with your skateboard.”

“I saw at least three beaches, if you need to know, and they were beautiful.”

“Then why not go?”

“Because it’s our first trip together,” Reva explained. “I want to go somewhere new with you.” She pulled the map closer to her. “You liked South America when you were there, and so did I. What about Peru? I missed out on that.”

Dante made a face. “Wouldn’t recommend.”

“Why?” 

“Because I don’t want to deal with you complaining about altitude sickness.” 

Reva had to suppress a grin. She had a feeling that it wasn’t her altitude sickness Dante wasn’t keen on dealing with. 

“What about Egypt?” he quickly proceeded to ask, tapping his finger on the landmass on the edge of the Red Sea. “You can’t have seen all of Egypt.”

“No, but trust me, the sand gets everywhere.”

“So?”

“You don’t understand,” Reva said, giving him a meaningful look. “It gets everywhere.” 

Dante raised his eyebrows and fought a grin. “Fine, not Egypt. Next.”

Reva looked at the map indecisively. “Dana suggested France. She loves Paris, apparently. Why doesn’t that surprise me?” she added with an eye roll.

“I’ve never seen a city as overrated as Paris. You’d hate it.”

“I heard the street art is nice.”

“Fair,” Dante conceded. A mischievous smirk formed on his face. “Does ze mademoiselle want a kiss under ze Tour Eiffel, oui?” 

Reva had to hide her giggle behind her hand. “Okay, forget Paris, but a city trip wouldn’t be the worst idea. Which city have you always wanted to visit?”

Dante thought about her question. “Las Vegas,” he said eventually, groaning when he saw the look on Reva’s face. “What could possibly be wrong with Vegas?”

“Nothing,” she answered sheepishly, “I just may or may not have a house ban in Vegas.”

“How many are we talking?”

Reva shrugged helplessly. “A couple?” 

“Dios mío,” Dante muttered under his breath. “Do I want to know?”

“Not really.” Reva’s face lit up. “But my uncle lives on the East coast. We could visit him and just see where we go from there.”

“I like the sound of that.” He pulled the map closer again. “Still, something warm and sunny would be nice. Have you said not to the Philippines yet?”

“Not yet.”

Dante’s eyes wandered to the South. “Or Australia?”

“Nice, too. Very warm, very sunny.” Reva reached out and moved Dante’s finger to the next group of islands. “I haven’t said no to New Zealand either.” 

Dante paused, then laughed quietly. “How did we go from no destination to too many destinations?”

“Someone tell me again I’m not good to work with.”

“You’re a nuisance to work with.” Dante reached into his pocket and put a gleaming silver Sickle onto the table. “Tell you what, we’ll let chance decide. You pick a side, I pick a side, and we see where it lands. Are you okay with that?” he added with a frown when Reva didn’t reply. Realising she had been eyeing the Sickle suspiciously, she shook her head.

“Side effect of being friends with Rory McTavish,” she chuckled. “You don’t trust coins anymore.”

“You want to do it differently?”

“No, it’s fine,” she said quickly. “I want New Zealand.”

“Fine, heads New Zealand, tails Indonesia.” 

Dante put the coin onto his hand and flicked it into the air. He and Reva reached to catch it simultaneously, causing it to fall off the table and roll away. Looking under the table where it had gone, Dante resurfaced with an incredulous laugh a moment later. “Would you look at that?”

Reva ducked beneath the table. The Sickle had rolled over the floor until it had gotten stuck in a small gap between the floorboards. A grin spread across her face; her godfather would enjoy the unlikely odds.

Reva grabbed the coin and tossed it to Dante, who caught it out of the air. “So that didn’t work. What are we gonna do now?”

“I still like the idea of letting fate decide,” Dante mused and chuckled as Reva rolled her eyes. “What?”

“You sound like my dad.”

“If you say so. Wait a second.”

He rose to his feet and vanished behind the door leading up to his flat. A confused look formed on Reva’s face when he returned carrying an old-looking globe. He set it down in front of her, then left a second time to fetch one of the darts from the dartboard on the other side of the room.

“Come on.” He pulled Reva to her feet and positioned her a few feet away from the globe, pressing the dart into her hand. 

“Now what?” she said with a sceptical look.

“I go spin the globe, and you throw the dart whenever you feel ready.”

Reva’s eyebrows shot up. “You want me to throw a dart at you?”

“No, I want you to throw a dart at the globe.”

“Why me?”

“Isn’t that your job? Throwing things at other things?”

“If you continue like that, I’ll throw this thing at your head,” Reva muttered but earned only a chuckle from Dante.

“Maybe aim a little lower. Not that low,” he added when he saw the grin spreading on Reva’s face. Shaking his head, he walked back to the table and put his hand on the globe. “Ready?”

When Reva nodded, he pulled his hand away, sending the globe spinning rapidly around its axis. Reva watched attentively, her eye fixed on the spinning sphere. She raised her hand, took aim and sent the dart flying. The tip got stuck in the cardboard, and - after raising her arms in triumph - Reva joined Dante back at the table as the globe began to slow.

Once it had stopped, Dante turned the globe until they could see where the dart had landed. When they did, both of them burst into laughter.

“Colombia, huh? I can live with that.”

“Me too,” Reva laughed and looped her arms around his waist. “We do have a list for that, after all.”

Dante chuckled to himself. “We do. High time you get to see the country properly.”

“Do shut up, will you?”

Dante had another teasing remark on the tip of his tongue, but as Reva’s hands wandered from his waist to his neck and pulled him in for a kiss, somehow, he found himself all too happy to comply. 

[the-al-chemist]

Saint Christopher

A/N: Dante says a prayer for Reva. Written for @usernoneexistent’s summer challenge, using the fourth prompt “Travel”. Reva and Dylan belong to @lifeofkaze. Warnings: mention of alcohol and Catholic guilt.

The sun was shining outside, streaming through the stained glass windows of the church and throwing patches of coloured light on the stone floor of the almost empty nave. Dante took a seat in a pew near the back - with his laid back approach to his faith, he never felt that he really belonged close to the chapel - and breathed in the still air, before bowing his head and closing his eyes.

So, it’s me. You probably know that, he thought. Sorry I haven’t been here in a while. And I’m sorry for all the swearing and taking your name in vain and all the other… stuff that I’ve done since last time I was here. 

He kept his eyes closed and grimaced. Best not to linger on all of that.

Anyway, he continued, I’ve got something to ask you, and I know I’m not really in the position to ask for favours at the moment, but I thought that it was worth trying. This one isn’t for me, anyway, it’s for someone else. It’s for my friend Dylan’s… It’s for my friend. Reva. She’s been going through a rough time recently, and she’s decided that she needs a break from her usual life, some distance, so she’s going travelling soon. Very soon. Tomorrow, actually.

Against his will, Dante’s heart gave a squeeze as he thought about Reva’s upcoming absence, about how he would not see her in the bar, her dark eyes or her wild smile, for months. He took a deep breath before carrying on.

So, I just wanted to ask you to keep her safe, to guard her and to guide her, to give her strength, and help her to find herself. Or whatever it is that she’s looking for, I guess. Just look after her, yeah? That’s all I am asking for. Though if you want to give my new Flitterbloom sprouts a miraculous growth spurt, I won’t complain. I’m joking, obviously. Amen.

Dante opened his eyes. That was all he had wanted to ask. He just hoped that his prayer would be answered. At the other end of the nave, his only fellow churchgoer was stepping into a confessional box. Dante frowned. Perhaps he should have done that before asking for favours, but it was too late now. And he had at least started his prayer with an apology, so he didn’t see what difference it made whether he told a priest his sins or not. His God was omniscient - or so he had always been told - so presumably He (or maybe She?) already knew Dante’s sins. Dante certainly did.

There was the avarice, first of all, but a degree of greed was necessary as a businessman, wasn’t it? And the nature of his business meant that gluttony was inevitable, what with the excessive drinking that he was enabling. And that was without considering his own liking for custard tarts. Then, finally, there was wrath - for he had always had a temper - and lust…

He swallowed hard, his mouth growing dry, pushing thoughts of Reva out of his head. He didn’t know what the Bible had to say about the matter, but in his book - and most likely in Dylan’s, too - it was definitely a sin to think about his friend’s younger sister like that, even if they were all adults now.

He wasn’t sure where these thoughts had come from, or why they had suddenly started to plague his mind over the past few weeks. Until recently, Reva had just been Dylan’s little sister; that was all she had been from the moment he had met her. Obviously, they had grown closer over the past few months, but that was only natural. Reva had needed someone to be there for her, and with both her brother and her best friend having moved abroad, she had come to rely on Dante. And he had been there for her, had listened to her, and respected her. He would like to think that he still respected her, even if he had now started to imagine her in ways that were neither respectful nor respectable.

It seemed that Reva was not the only one who needed some distance. Perhaps, on some infinitely selfish level, that was the real reason why Dante had suggested that she go travelling to find herself, the same way he had when he had also lost his way in his late teens. Either way, her leaving was the right thing for both of them. At least, he hoped so.

With one last look and a farewell nod at the crucifix hanging behind the pulpit, Dante left the church. In the narthex, a small table had been set up, bearing small trinkets being sold to raise funds for charity: rosaries, figurines, and necklaces. He paused and looked at them, his hand coming up to his own necklace as he did.

His mother had bought him a silver Saint Christopher pendant when he had left home and moved to Brazil at the age of eighteen. As the patron saint of travellers, she had told him that Saint Christopher would protect him on his journey, and help him find his way when he was lost. He could think of someone else who could do with a necklace like that.

The Saint Christopher pendants being sold at the church were not of as good quality as his own, which he knew had cost his mother a lot, but if anything, that was a good thing. He did not want to give Reva any ideas, after all. Carefully, he picked out one of the cheapest looking ones, so colourful it almost looked tacky, and placed a few Muggle coins into the collection box. 

Back home, Dante sat in the bar with a quill and sheet of parchment resting on his counter in front of him, looking at the mural Reva had painted for him the day before he had first opened his business. Smiling to himself, he picked up the quill, took a deep breath, and began to write.

Dear Reva,

I hope you’ve finished packing and haven’t left it all to the last minute! Talking of last minute - here’s a little gift for your travels. This necklace is a St Christopher, the patron saint of travellers. Legend has it that he can carry a traveller cross impassable waters, keep them safe on their journey, and guide them to where they need to be, even when their path is unclear to them.

Fingers crossed you won’t be too much of a challenge for him.

Love, Dante.

Dante folded up the message and placed it with the necklace into an envelope, sealing it with the bar’s logo. He went upstairs and gave the letter to his snowy owl, Paloma, who ruffled her pristine white feathers before taking flight. He watched her soar into the distance, growing smaller by the second, his peaceful smile fading as he made a sudden revelation that made him almost curse himself.

He had signed the letter with ‘love’.

[lifeofkaze]

Happy Birthday, Dante!

Happy Birthday to my favourite barkeep, globetrotter, entrepreneur and the only one who can make my gremlin child actually nervous. I don't know what you did to her, but please don't ever stop.

Reva and I love you ❤️💚

And you, of course, @the-al-chemist ! Thank you for teaching me how to handle problem kids and bringing this sweet boy into existence 🌻✨

[lifeofkaze]

For Dante and Reva: "One part anger, two parts of my favourite drink and a quick question, who changed the labels on my paints?"

"I did," Dante shrugged, "because they were in dire need of reorganising."

"Why in Godric's name would you do that?"

"Because they were a complete mess and cluttering my gardening bench."

Wanting to express her dismay with actions rather than words, Reva picked up the first spray can she could reach and held it into Dante's face; she hadn't intended to actually use it but was dismayed nonetheless that Dante didn't even flinch."

"That, mi vida, is the joy of order," he said and took the can from her, revealing the big label saying 'empty' on its back.

Dante belongs to @the-al-chemist