Found: Results And Fragmented Past // Self Para
Walking into the restaurant, Cora felt entirely out of place. Everything was pristine and delicate- far from what she was used to. And even in the formal black dress and pearl earrings, she felt like she wasn't yet decent enough for a place like this. All of the time she had spent in front of the mirror felt unnecessary now, but she tried not to get caught up on it. It would be rude to turn back now, no less entirely counterproductive on her part.
Aiming for composition, she steeled herself and walked up to where a member of the wait staff stood, watching to see if she was here to check in. "Reservation for Risposi." She didn't let her voice shake, but she was still lacking the pure confidence which she had been hoping to exude. The man didn't snicker, though—only nodded and stepped around a customer, leading the way into the restaurant and beckoning for her to follow with a wave.
"Welcome, miss. This way."
Oh, so he was punctual. Again, she felt a little guilty, which was almost laughable, considering what she had expected to feel upon meeting this man. Fear, perhaps. Or urgency. But guilt? That was unexpected, and perhaps under different circumstances she might have smiled or laughed at that.
The waiter stopped at the edge of the room, where an elegant table was set with a single rose and a candle. Her immediate urge was to laugh at the sheer ridiculousness of this place, but then a man was standing from his seat at the table, and she sobered immediately.
Oh wow. He was goddamn gorgeous. Like something out of a magazine, or maybe a painting? She couldn’t decide which suited him more, with his youthful features and curly black hair. Actually, he looked like he could have been part God. Yeah, that had to be it. And okay, she had known that he was young, but the smile that danced across his face was far from what she had pictured. That was her mistake, clearly, but she could recall few times when she had been this thrilled about being wrong. Cora blinked a few times, just to make sure that it wasn’t all some bizarre daydream conjured by whatever was going on in her head.
It took a moment for her to realize that he was staring at her in question, eyebrow raised as if he had asked something. She looked around quickly; the waiter was gone. She felt bad for not having thanked him before he left. Then she looked back at the mysterious young man and offered an apologetic smile. “Sorry, I guess I zoned there. Uhm, hi. I’m Cora.” After a moment’s deliberation, she held out her hand to him, trying to convince herself that she hadn’t ruined this already.
He laughed, then—a light, playful sound that all but told her she was forgiven. “What is there to apologize for, Cora?” Then he seemed to notice her hand, and he frowned slightly. Taking it in his own, he gently lowered it to her side, then leaned in to kiss her on either cheek. Oh. Right. She was an idiot. When he pulled back, he was smiling again, and she found herself smiling back. “Dante Rispoli. You will have to forgive my English—it is not so good as it used to be.”
“Oh, no no—really, you’re fine. In fact,” Cora paused, more than a little pleased with herself for never letting Italian slip out of her mind over the years. “I speak fluently. We can talk like this, if it would be easier for you?”
The look of delight that crossed his face was the only sign she needed, but he nodded enthusiastically for good measure. “Oh, you are full of surprises! Yes, I think I would like this. You speak well.”
She tried to wider grin and shrugged humbly. “I grew up in Italy.” Wait, no. That wasn’t supposed to be said. Their conversation was supposed to be very limited on her part, but the longer he kept that smile up, the more she wanted to let that rule slide. Just this once.
Dante’s eyes softened a little and he shook his head. “And to think, we never met. Well, at least I am finally meeting you now.” A beat, and then he was pulling out a chair for Cora, and pushing it in as she sat down.
“Goddamn, do you actually get anywhere with that line?” The words were out of her mouth before she could quite think them through, a little louder and much harsher than the Italian which he had just spoken. Hurrying to correct herself, her eyes grew wide. “I’m so sorry. That was horrible. I—”
But he cut her off by laughing, and she drew her thoughts to a halt. It took a minute before he was calm again, grin lingering as he wiped at his eyes and shook his head at her. Again. “Is that how you usually speak? It is not very restrained.”
She might have taken offence to that, but there was no note of malice in his words. Only amusement. So she shrugged, smiling a little. “I know. I don’t usually have a need for restraint, I guess?” That just wasn’t the way she wanted to live. Keeping quiet for the sake of others had never been her forte, but in times like this—in a high class restaurant with a potential break in her research—it might not hurt to start practicing.
“It is endearing, in a strange way.” He laughed a little at his own comment, then smiled at the waiter as he approached. Cora didn’t have time to respond to his comment before they were ordering—him, something extremely pretentious sounding that she had missed the name of, and her a simple plate of fettucine Alfredo, her favorite.
“So,” he was talking again as the man left, looking back at Cora. “In your letters you mentioned questions?” It wasn’t prodding, but it was enough to steer them onto the topic at hand. She was grateful for that.
Fingers tapping softly at the bottom of her water glass, she nodded once. “Yes. And I mentioned that they were to be kept quiet.” A reminder, and she paused until he gave her a nod in confirmation. There was every chance that he would tell someone, but there didn’t seem to be much of a choice in her case. At least, not if she wanted this information right then. “I have a name. Could you tell me if you have heard it?” Another nod, and the redhead drew a deep breathe. “Aida Damiani.”
Frowning in thought, the young man shook his head after a moment. “I think I have heard the name, but I cannot place it. Should I be able to?”
“No, that’s alright.” Cora managed a tight lipped smile as she thought for a moment. That was her mother’s name—her maiden name, and the only reason she had given that instead of her father’s was out of pure cowardice. It had been a grasp at straws, but it ultimately failed. Now she was left to give the room a quick scan and lean minutely forward. “I have another name, then. Paolo Leoni.” The surname felt like a ghost passing through her body, and she fought the urge to curl into herself. How long had it been since she had uttered that name? So many years had passed since she had promised to move on from that life, and here it was again, staring her in the eye and chilling her to the bone.
Whatever comfortable sweetness that had clouded Dante’s eyes before was no longer there, swept away to reveal cold eyes and a stone-like expression, where a smile had just been sitting seconds ago. Silence fell and he looked away, his jaw clenching and unclenching as he kept his gaze trained on the pristine tiles of the floor.
Cora opened her mouth to speak, but she couldn’t decide on what to say and let her lips close again. She waited for what felt like minutes, and likely was, in hopes that he would say something. But he stayed as still as stone—as talkative as the substance as well, to be perfectly fair. And now she was starting to feel the beginning of anger, bubbling dangerously in her chest. Did he owe her a response? No, he didn’t owe her a damn thing. But if he wasn’t going to give her an answer, she would much rather say goodbye and leave right then.
But he looked up then, almost as if he had heard her, and settled his chilling eyes on her person once more. “You are lucky we are meeting here, and not closer to my home. That name would have turned heads, and your secret would not be so safe anymore.” The pang of confusion and fear did nothing to rattle her from speechlessness, so she instead focused on his implications. Did that mean that he did not plan to seek anyone out? Was she safe? Merlin, this was a terrible idea.
Dante paused to study her, and his jaw seemed to relax a little, his eyebrows knitting together in question. “But…you look confused. What do you know about that name?”
I watched that name gasp and die on my bedroom floor, then watched it fall to ash outside of the home I burned to the ground, she thought. No big deal. Finally able to focus her words, she shook her head ever so slightly. “Not much. I know that he is dead, and that his family was killed. You know that, too.” It was a bold move, but she was itching to remove herself from the once safe conversation. But if it had felt safe before, this felt anything but. But the look on his face would surely haunt her dreams, so she pressed further. “What did he do to end up like he did?”
Another stretch of silence passed before Dante spoke again, his voice low and his tone steely. “That man was a monster. From hell, that man was.”
Cora couldn’t tell if her gasp was audible or just in her head, but she was on her feet in a second, and there was a resounding smack.
—silence throughout the room.
And her arm was outstretched, hand stinging a little from where it had hit his face. Dante was frozen in shock—head turned to the side and mouth agape as he reached up numbly to touch the side of his face.
“I-” Cora hadn’t known what she was going to say, just that it wasn’t an apology. But Dante had whipped his head to face her, standing up so quickly that he almost knocked his chair over.
“Come.” His tone almost made her stay there just to spite him, but pride be damned, she still needed answers, so she grit her teeth and followed him quickly through the room and out of the door. She thought that he might stop once outside, but he kept walking until they rounded the corner of the building, where no one stood. Something of a red flag spiked in her mind, but if he wanted to threaten her then she could take it. Hell, she could take him on any day.
Then there was something—Dante—knocking into her and shoving her back against the bricks of the wall. Her head hit the surface hard enough to make a sound, and she felt briefly nauseous. And dizzy. But she didn’t even have a second to adjust before something was pressing against her windpipe. She gasped, struggling to shove him backwards with her hands. He was strong, though, and only pressed his forearm harder against her throat when she thrashed. “You know more. You lied-” he spoke quickly, in between grunts as he pushed back against her. “Tell the truth.”
She tried to speak, but only a cough came out, and she struggled further. Then she brought up her knee to his groin—as hard as she could—and he made something akin to a birdcall, pulling sharply back. Gasping heavily for air, she shoved him backwards to the other side of the alley. She would have reached for her wand then, but when she looked back at him, Cora paled. In his hands was a gun. He didn’t look well, but the distance was too short to count on poor aim to save her. Holding up her hands, she stared him down. “Fine. I knew him, when I was young. Family friend.”
He growled, taking a slight step closer to her. She didn’t take a step back. “Don’t lie!” His voice was a shout, and she flinched.
“I’m not! I swear. Please,” Maybe she was bat shit crazy for not telling him the truth right then and there, but she couldn’t lose this. Not when it was all she had. Then she remembered how she had sworn to Nathan, and with slow movements, she reached into the front of her dress to untuck the necklace. Oh please, in the name of all things merciful and good in the whole damn world, let this work. “This—this is all I have. It’s the most important thing I own. I swear on it. Right now. Its worth more than my life.”
The crazed young man looked between Cora and the key in her hand, looking just as confused as he had before. But then he was doing something incredible and lowering the gun. When he spoke again he was quiet, but his eyes were still cold. “Paolo Leoni and his friends, they killed my father and my sister. The son of a bitch murdered them, in my own house.”
Cora just stared at him, as if not comprehending what he was saying. Except she had heard him perfectly, and she was highly considering bending over to throw up just then. No. No, that can’t be true. “Please.” Her voice was weak, disbelieving, and she begged him silently to deny his own words.
“They died the next week—the monster and his pathetic family, but it didn’t help. If it had been up to me, he would have lived.” Dante laughed, something hollow and cold that made Cora want to square up and punch him. “He could have suffered, then.”
“No…no, it…this isn’t true.” She wanted to deny it, but it made sense. Everything about Dante’s words seemed to mimic what she had seen as a little girl, just before her old life had crumbled into dust. The mood swings, the raw terror in those last days…no. Oh god, she was going to be sick.
“You think I could lie about my family?” He sounded like he might get angry again, but she was hardly paying attention. Cora couldn’t hold herself up any longer, and she was dropping to the cold filthy ground, hands shaking as she stared down at them.
Maybe she might have cried, if no one else had been there, but her eyes were dry for now. She only trembled slightly, throat closing up as she tried not to get caught up in her head. There was every chance that this wasn’t the truth—he could be lying, right? But he could be telling the truth, and deep down, she knew that it was the latter. So she just stared with unblinking eyes at the grey of the cement and the pale color in her hands.
Something touched her shoulder and she flinched away from it, almost falling backwards in an attempt to get away. Her head snapped up, catching sight of Dante. But he wasn’t angry. No, he looked like he might actually understand, which was absolutely ridiculous. Only he was crouching down to her level, staying a good two feet away, and studying her again. “You really did not know.” It wasn’t a question, rather a statement. “I am sorry for thinking that you lied.” An apology? Even in her overwhelmed state, the gesture took her by surprise. Hadn’t this asshole just leveled a goddamn gun at her a minute ago? Maybe he was unstable. Actually—Maybe, she felt, was a strong understatement.
“This was horrible. I will leave you in a moment, and we will never see each other again.” Oh thank the gods, he was leaving. She couldn’t take much more of this. Pity, was it? Fuck, she didn’t need this. But if she said so, he might spiral into a rage again, and Cora was reasonable enough to know that a decision like that would end poorly. She could feel him stand again, but he lingered for a moment more. “Was there another name? A name that you wanted from me?”
She almost found the nearest heavy object and launched it at him then, but he was giving her the last window that she might see for a long time. Sure, the modestly constructed walls which she had built on her own over the years were crumbling around her, but this was too important to miss. “Who killed Leoni?” Her voice sounded foreign to her own ears; hopeless and tired.
One beat. Another. She was certain he would leave then, but there were footsteps that sounded like they might be coming closer, and suddenly there was a voice against the side of her head. “Lucca Salvi.” There was a kiss pressed to the top of her head, almost as an afterthought, and she listened as the footsteps grew faint.
Then she was alone, crouched in her pretty dress in the middle of an alley, each breath feeling much more labored than she knew they should feel.
She had a name now, which she had searched from one edge of the earth to the next in order to find, and she should feel like something was accomplished.
There was stifling pain, though. Maybe the back of her head would form a bump and her throat would no doubt carry bruises for a few days, but it was worse than that. It was the image of a loved one—one of her only—torn to shreds at her feet. Nothing was for certain, and for the first time since she had moved into that tiny flat with Addision, Cora was wondering if she wanted this. If it was worth it.
And maybe, when she finally pulled herself together enough to go back to Hogwarts, she made up a story to appease a concerned peer. It involved clumsy feet and a messy gutter, and while the student might not have bought it, Cora was already ducking into her room and shutting the door before more questions could be asked.
If this was going to suffocate her, it was best not to let anyone else get caught up in the risiduals.
