#revante

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. 

Between decorating a cocktail with an artfully carved slice of orange peel and pouring the ingredients for another one into a shaker, Dante’s eyes wandered over to her. His gaze dropping to her glass, he cocked an eyebrow with an unspoken question and the woman gave a barely perceptible shake of her head. Dante returned his attention to his cocktail shaker and she busied herself with watching the spacious pinboard with postcards and pictures hanging behind him. A smile tugging at the corners of her lips, her eyes settled on the ones most familiar to her.

She was still nursing her glass when the door fell shut behind the last of the punters. With a sigh, Dante flung the towel he’d been using to wipe the countertop over his shoulder and made his way over to her.

“Is my new drink so awful that you’re still not finished with it?” he asked, casually resting his arms on the counter. 

“Aren’t you supposed to savour a good drink?

Dante raised his eyebrows. “Who are you and what have you done to Reva Amari?”

“I’m just heeding the advice of someone a lot older and wiser than me,” Reva Amari, the woman in question, chuckled as she took another sip of her drink.

“I’m not that much older than you.”

“But a lot wiser.”

“Debatable.”

“Not really.”

“I guess not, no,” Dante grinned. “But you can’t tell me that drink is still cold. You’ve had it for what now, an hour?” 

“I like how it keeps refilling itself,” Reva said and held up her drink for Dante to see; the ice cubes had melted and filled up parts of the glass again. She giggled when she saw the horrified look on his face. 

“There’s so many things wrong with what you’ve just said.” Shaking his head, he took the glass with the now lukewarm drink from her hands. “How about a new one?”

“I thought the last round’s over?” 

Dante helped himself to two new glasses and began mixing the drinks. “I might just make an exception, I’m on good terms with the boss. And you still owe me a story.”

“That’s true,” Reva smiled and watched as he began cutting up white peaches. “Where did we stop last time?” 

“I think it was the totally made-up story about you, your skateboard and the Sphinx of Giza.”

“Ah, you mean the totally not-made-up story of the best grind of my life,” Reva nodded knowingly. She leaned over the countertop, snatching a slice of peach from the cutting board and popping it into her mouth.

“This story is so not true.”

“Do you want to hear it or not?”

“I absolutely do,” Dante said and handed Reva a fresh drink smelling of peaches and rosemary.

They moved from the bar to a table next to the fireplace with their drinks. Reva welcomed the opportunity to delve back into the memories of her time spent travelling with someone who knew what she was talking about; many of the places she’d been to Dante had seen for himself, and then some more. 

“I can’t believe you got yourself arrested,” she called out and covered her mouth with her hand to keep herself from laughing; Dante had a knack for telling stories and Reva’s cheeks were hurting from the many times he had made her laugh over the course of the evening. “What’s Colombian jail like?” 

“Crowded,” Dante shrugged. “Nice people, though. They offered to get me a new tattoo. Had I asked nicely, they’d even sterilised the needle.”

Reva bit her lower lip to keep from giggling. “What did you even do?”

“That,” Dante said with a mysterious smile, “will remain my secret.”

“I won’t tell, I promise.”

That made Dante laugh out loud. “Over my cold, dead body.”

“Rude. And people say you’re a gentleman.”

Dante put a hand over his heart with a hurt expression. “How can you? I am the perfect gentleman.”

“How come I haven’t seen much of it then?” 

“Who’s the rude one now?” he smirked. “There’s better things in Colombia to see, in any case. Not like you would know, you passed up on more than half of the places I told you to see. I can’t believe you missed Caño Cristales.”

“And I can’t believe you went to jail. What for, did you say?”

“Tell you what, you come and visit Caño Cristales with me and I might just tell you how easy it is to get arrested in Colombia.”

Reva leaned forward, her dark eyes flashing with excitement. “Are we gonna do something that might get us arrested? Just kidding,” she added quickly when Dante’s eyebrows shot upwards.

“I’m not so sure you are.”

“You’ll have to wait and find out then, won’t you?” 

Her eyes fell on the clock hanging above the wall and she sighed in dismay; it was way past two in the morning already. She noticed that Dante, who had followed her gaze, had to stifle a yawn, so she emptied her drink with one big swig and got to her feet. 

“Sorry for keeping you up. Time to get home.”

Dante stood up as well, making an apologetic face. “I really didn’t mean to…”

“No, it’s fine,” Reva cut him off with a wave of her hand. “I have practice tomorrow anyway.”

“You don’t really look like you’re in the state to throw a Quaffle,” Dante said doubtfully. 

“I don’t look like I’m in the state to throw a Quaffle now,” Reva pointed out. “Don’t worry about me. A bit of sleep and maybe a Wideye Potion and I’ll be fresh as a daisy.” 

She let go of the back of her chair but as soon as she took the first step, Reva suddenly found herself swaying, holding onto the first thing within her reach to steady herself; when she realised that it was Dante’s arm, she quickly let go. 

“Are you okay?” Dante wanted to know. “Talk about throwing a Quaffle, I don’t think you’re fit to Apparate.”

“Rubbish,” Reva said and wrinkled her nose. She did feel unsteady but she’d rather hex her tongue out than admit it. “I’m totally fine, see?”

She concentrated on a spot on the other side of the room, trying not to let the flickering shadows coming from the fireplace or the heavy scent of rosemary still lingering in the air distract her. With a crack that was louder than usual she disappeared, but instead of by the bar, Reva suddenly found herself standing on top of the table next to it.

“Feet off the table,” Dante called out as he walked across the room to her. “So much for safe Apparating.”

“What are you talking about? This is exactly where I wanted to go.”

“Clearly,” Dante said and offered her a hand.

“Just so you know, I don’t need that,” Reva declared but accepted Dante’s help anyway. 

Feeling a lot more steady with his support, she half jumped, half stumbled off the table. When her feet hit the ground she staggered, Dante’s other hand reaching for her shoulder to not let her fall. Feeling the heat rising to her face, Reva quickly took a step back; Dante was smelling like the drinks they’d had and she suddenly felt more dizzy than she had before.

“You’re not Apparating anywhere tonight,” Dante declared firmly. “I wouldn’t want you to end up on the tower of Old and St Andrew’s Church by accident. Let’s get you a room ready. This used to be a pub, after all.”

He got his wand out and began levitating the chairs onto the tables. Reva sat by the bar and watched the floating jam jars covering themselves in dishwater while Dante was closing the bar for the night. She hadn’t even realised that she’d drunk too much; she didn’t feel that drunk, to be honest, but it wasn’t like her to be so clumsy either. Maybe staying in a spare room wouldn’t be the worst idea; Dante was her friend, and there was nothing wrong with crashing at a friend’s place, after all.

When he was done, Dante led her through a door by the side of the bar and up a steep flight of steps. He was walking behind her, making sure she wouldn’t stumble, and Reva did her best to not do so. Knowing he was so close behind her made her spine tingly and she was oddly relieved when they reached the upper floor. 

“You can sleep here,” Dante said and opened the door right next to the landing. “The bathroom’s over there and there’s my room if you need anything.” 

He pointed at a door at the end of the hallway. Several big plants in colourful pots were standing next to it and Reva watched Dante diligently checking the soil as he walked past them. As if sensing her attention on him, he raised his eyes to meet hers across the hallway with a smile.

“Have a good night, then.”

Reva blinked, coming back to her senses. “Uhm, yeah. Sure. Good night. And thanks.”

She entered the guest room, took off her shoes and jeans and got into bed. But even though she was knackered, sleep refused to come. Reva usually had no qualms falling asleep in any place at any given time, but this time she couldn’t shake the feeling of restlessness that had befallen her. 

After tossing and turning for the better part of an hour, Reva was on the point of dozing off when she suddenly thought to hear the soft sound of a guitar. She sat up in her bed and listened more closely - there definitely was music playing somewhere.

Getting up and back into her clothes, Reva left her room, quietly closing the door behind her. The hallway was dark, but there was a strip of light shining from beneath Dante’s door. Reva hesitated and then shrugged to herself; if both of them were awake, they might as well be awake together. 

She walked over to Dante’s room and knocked softly. The moment she did so, she felt stupid for bothering him but now it was too late to turn back. When Dante opened the door, he looked surprised to see her; he had exchanged his clothes for sweatpants and a plain white T-shirt above the collar of which his golden St. Christopher necklace was showing. Much to Reva’s astonishment, he was carrying a watering can.

“Is everything alright?” he asked with a concerned frown.

“Yes,” she quickly nodded. Suddenly not knowing what to do with her hands, Reva crossed her arms in front of her chest as if she was cold. “I wanted to see where the music was coming from.”

An apologetic look formed on Dante’s face. He glanced at an old-fashioned looking record player in the corner of his room. “Sorry if it was too loud, I’m not used to having guests. I can turn it down if you like.”

“It’s fine, I couldn’t sleep anyway.” 

“Okay, cool,” Dante replied and then added, “Do you want to come in, or something?” He was smiling but it wasn’t the easy smile Reva was familiar with; if she didn’t know any better she’d have said that Dante was looking nervous.

Stepping away from the door, he let her inside. Acutely aware that she was crossing into his personal space, Reva couldn’t help but cast a curious look around. The air in the room was warmer than in the rest of the building, and slightly damper, too. The reason for it was apparent: almost every available surface in the room - the shelves, the windowsills, even some spots on the floor - were covered in plants of all forms and sizes. There was a whole shelf devoted to succulents alone, from the top of which a purplish light was shining down on the many small plant pots. Her nerves subsiding, the corners of Reva’s mouth twitched.

“I remember you being fond of Herbology, but don’t you think that is a little over the top?” 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Dante said matter-of-factly as he proceeded to water the plant right next to the door. “There’s no such thing as having too many plants.”

“There is when you feel like walking into a rainforest.”

“You sound as if you’d never seen one for yourself. Shall we add that to the list of ‘Things that Reva missed out on’?”

“I have been to a rainforest and this is just like it.”

“It’s no proper rainforest when there’s no plants on the ceiling,” Dante declared. He cast a pondering look up above. “Although now that you mention it…”

Laughing to himself at Reva’s incredulous expression, he walked past her to one of the open shelves to water the plants there as well. Not quite knowing what to do, Reva followed him. Standing next to him, she heard that Dante was softly humming along to the music

“What are you listening to?” she asked.

“You tell me. I found the record at a market in Colombia. It didn’t have a proper cover, just some colourful paper wrapped around it, but I like it anyway.”

“I bet in truth some bloke in jail sold it to you,” Reva muttered under her breath, making Dante laugh out loud.

“Busted. Best salsa dancer I’ve ever seen.”

“Of course.”

“You don’t believe me?”

“No, I absolutely do.”

“Liar.” He set down the watering can and turned up the volume. “Want to see how the Colombian cons dance?” 

Grinning, Reva took the hand Dante was offering her. She let him pull her closer, ignoring the same tingly feeling she’d had before as he placed his other hand on her waist. Reva’s best friend Zadie had shown her how to dance salsa once and suddenly Reva wished that she had paid more attention back then. More than once she stepped onto Dante’s foot but despite herself, Reva had to laugh as he commented on it. 

“You’re an awful dancer,” Dante complained but he was smirking as he did so. His smile turned into a grimace as Reva stepped onto his foot again, this time not entirely out of accident.

“Maybe you’re just an awful teacher.” 

“You’re not listening to anything I’m saying at all.”

“You have no idea how often I’ve heard that before,” Reva snickered and let Dante spin her around. It made her dizzy, but it was a different kind of dizzy. A good kind. “Maybe I just need more practice.”

“Another thing for the list then,” Dante smiled and pulled her closer again.

They continued to dance and as the music picked up in pace, so did they. Soon any pretence at dancing salsa was discarded and they were making up their own steps. Feeling more comfortable in her skin again, Reva sang along to the music while Dante was laughing at the terrible mix of Spanish words Reva knew and the ones she was making up to fill the gaps. Reva didn’t mind him laughing, however; she liked how Dante’s eyes were lighting up when he did.

After a particularly upbeat song, Dante let himself fall backwards onto his bed, breathing a little more heavily than before. Not having anywhere else to sit, Reva slumped down next to him, a wide smile still lingering on her face. Dante gave her a sideways glance. 

“You’re a real handful, you know?”

“So they keep telling me.” 

Dante’s bed was soft and very comfortable and suddenly Reva felt her tiredness catching up with her again. Not wanting to give in to it, she let her eyes travel over the collage of postcards hanging on the wall next to the bed. It was a miniature version of the one in the bar downstairs, and she smiled to herself when she discovered more of the postcards she had sent herself among them. The mattress shifted when Dante turned and propped himself up onto his elbow.

“Are you as tired as I am?”

Reva only hummed in response, her eyes still trailing over the colourful pictures. She sucked in her breath and held it when Dante leaned over her to reach for his wand lying on the nightstand. He pointed it at the record player and the music changed. 

The soft, soothing sound of a single acoustic guitar was now drifting through the room. Dante made to move back but then, after a moment’s hesitation, he didn’t. His hand came to rest on Reva’s waist, like it had done when they had been dancing. For a split second Reva tensed, the fluttery feeling in her stomach flaring up even stronger than before, but then she relaxed. She could feel the warmth of Dante’s body close to hers and she shifted her weight to lean against him, resting her head against his shoulder. 

They stayed like this for a while and with every passing second the restlessness within Reva was subsiding. She was drawing lazy patterns on Dante’s arm, enjoying the feeling of his  fingers tapping on her waist to the slow beat of the music. 

Still not wanting to fall asleep, Reva focused on the melody, wondering if this might be Dante himself playing or if it was another souvenir from South America. She turned her head to ask him about it and had to suppress a soft chuckle at what she saw. Dante’s breathing had deepened and the tapping of his fingers stopped; he was fast asleep. 

Reva took a moment to study his face, so close to hers that their noses were almost touching. Her eyes wandered over his black hair, almost as unruly as her own, his long eyelashes and the soft dusting of freckles covering his tanned skin. She raised her hand to brush her fingers over this cheek but then decided to let him sleep; she’d kept him awake for long enough. 

Careful not to wake him, Reva snuggled closer against him, feeling Dante’s steady heartbeat beneath the palm of her hand. Smiling to herself, she slowly drifted off to sleep. If this was a new adventure she liked where it was going so far. It was uncharted territory, but she’d always been one to explore. Both of them were.