[paris] ces petits riens | donatella

Well into August, Paris still felt a little deserted. Many of the city folk had ventured off to the coast or on similar adventures in order to enjoy the remnants of summer vacation. With the metropolitan stress well under control, tourists were more frequently seen enjoying themselves in the absence of its residents, the muggy, hot weather no obstacle to their day long ventures into the city’s most beautiful views. Léon had been visiting Paris often, undisturbed by the muggles as he found a quiet corner to relax in, his eyes fascinated by the people that walked to and fro down the stretch of streets lined with small shops and delightful cafes to suit any taste. So close to the start of school, he found that many of his companions were increasingly unavailable, summer was almost over and family time took precedence. Even though he often traveled into the city alone and kept mostly to himself, he did not feel lonely, after all, at least he had his thoughts and the people that filled the streets to keep him company.

Léon had considered attending summer school for the sake of spending some much needed time with his favorite pal. After all, he was almost certain that in the company of Cosimo, girls would just gravitate to him and by the end of the entire ordeal, he’d leave with at least a few stories to tell when the beginning of sixth year came around. However, the last conversation he had with Gabrielle had left him feeling a little odd and unsure about what he wanted in life and with the added homesickness that he experienced towards the end of the semester, he came to the conclusion that what he really needed was time at home. Léon did not feel much like himself anymore; in fact, an anxiety for the future that he had never experienced before had started to make its presence known in his daily life. He realized that he did not understand himself as much as he wanted to believe that he did and as such, he started to see the inconsistencies in what he truly felt and what others believed him to be like.

However, returning to Dahliental and spending some much needed time with family and friends slowly started to restate his confidence and by the end of the first month home, he was much happier than he was the month prior. He had taken to pursuing his hobbies, focusing on his music and taking some classes on the piano to occupy his time. Léon had taken a particular liking to the young woman that had been teaching him piano for a couple years, in her early thirties, Miss Zola taught the younger boy with much enthusiasm and laughed off his premature attempts at winning over her attention with his silly declarations of how beautiful she was. Even though Miss Zola never reciprocated or even responded to his advances, she still treated him with a kindness even his own schoolmates were incapable of. Though it might have been obvious to someone else, Léon still failed to recognize the problem with his approach.

In between music classes, relaxing at home, and even taking time to spend with friends, Léon was rather bored. Remembering that Donatella, the icy princess that still had a hold over his heart and possibly other parts of his body, had more or less seemed intrigued by the idea of seeing him in Paris to paint over the summer, he suddenly got to work. With a surge of motivation, he took charge to schedule a day out of it, owling her with a firm plan to meet him at a small studio he had found to give very small group classes to young students. He had even gone as far as to make a reservation, hoping that she would actually show up. He did not realize his excitement at the possibility of seeing his close friend until he found himself pacing around the entrance of the class waiting for her arrival.

“Mr. Lachapelle, the class will start in fifteen minutes,” the teacher, a polite, middle aged gentleman reminded him, peeking out from around the door as he adjusted the glasses on his face. Léon nodded, running his hand through his hair as he moved closer to the front entrance trying to see if he could catch sight of the young woman.

The moment he caught sight of her, his blue eyes seemingly lit up and he gave her a wide smile, “Nata, come on, we’re going to be late!” he called out, though they still had plenty of time to spare and as such, he quickened his pace to meet her up close. “I see your absence has only made you more beautiful and hopefully much sweeter, mon sucre d’orge,” he teased her, reaching out for her hand, “Ready?"

@Donatella Bertinelli

Salvatore Bertinelli trusted his most precious treasure to only one man — Fabrizio Capone, a Napoletani wizard in his late thirties, who would often be graced with the honour of supervising Omertà's Dolce Principessa. It would be fair to state that Donatella would spend most of her time in Fabrizio’s presence, for her parents were very busy individuals with careers that were at their peak. Aside from Fabrizio and her house elves, Donatella would spend her time in the presence of her favourite cousin, Luciana. However, whilst spending the month of July in Neroli with her cousin, the sixteen year old was granted the permission to travel throughout the month of August, naturally, with Fabrizio.

A vacation with her ‘zio’, so to speak, although Donatella regarded Fabrizio’s presence as more restrictive than liberating. Nonetheless, she had visited her mother’s siblings, Lars and Ydje, in Brussels for a few days, then had visited New York for a week, where Donatella had visited her friends from the rather exotic land, and her and Fabrizio had gone on rather generous shopping sessions. On their way back, they had made a stop in Dublin, to visit more family, and now they were in Paris, where, within two days’ time, Donatella would reunite with her parents, so they would all go together to the Quidditch Cup in Brazil.

Her house elves in Venice had been efficient enough to forward her mail to Paris, at the usual luxurious hotel the Bertinellis stayed in the lavish and exuberant first arrondissement. Donatella had received several letters — let it be that she had only replied to one specific individual throughout all summer, so it had been of no surprise that she’d noticed one from Léon as well. He’d organised a day for them in Paris, a painting lesson, as they had previously planned during their last semester at Beauxbatons; it was just Léon’s luck, truly, that Donatella just happened to be in Paris with enough spare time on her hands. Only a few days earlier or later, and she wouldn’t have been on the continent. Naturally, she had accepted the boy’s invitation; in the end, painting would prove quite the entertainment, and Donatella did reach a point where she needed a break from Fabrizio. As handsome as he was in his white linen suits, Fabrizio was still her nanny, and she was a young lady, who wanted independence. If Léon would provide said independence, then who was she to deny it.

Still, on the day of the event, her usual discussion with Fabrizio surfaced, Donatella not managing to hide her anger upon noticing the outfit the man had prepared for her; suitable for a Bertinelli lady, tight, revealing, elegantly sexy and supposedly the nude colour was the perfect nuance as to maintain Donatella’s innocent yet poised allure. Nata, as always, was not pleased; the mere idea of wearing such a dress irritated her beyond belief, and she’d reached a point where she wanted to escape. The imposed fashion on her labelled her as a Bertinelli woman, which was by far the worst; she did not want that title, for Donatella wanted to be the heir. And heirs wore trousers, they wore suits, they wore precisely what her father and Fabrizio did. It felt unfair that she was not allowed to also wear such fashion, merely because of her gender.

An entire Italian drama surfaced out of Fabrizio stating that Donatella would not be allowed to go out unless she would wear said dress; vases thrown at her nanny, running around and hiding from him as he followed her around their apartment with the dress in his arms, ultimately for Fabrizio to pull out his want and just have the dress attack her, along with a generous amount of make-up products as back-up. Supposedly, she looked exquisite; Donatella saw her reflection though and somehow it felt as if she were looking at a sixteen year old Luciana; but, while beautiful indeed, it did not feel like her. The fact that her curves have developed rather well throughout the last two months was also more than enough for Donatella to feel different and not herself anymore; everything about how she looked somehow managed to irritate her.

Still annoyed at Fabrizio, Donatella nervously stepped within the establishment she was supposed to meet up with her friend, the noise of her stilettos resonating upon the hallway, distracting Nata enough as to not feel any sort of remorse for not turning around and waving goodbye at her zio. Fabrizio mentioned something about coming to pick her up in whatever time he had deemed appropriate, but the Bellefeuille had long ignored the man. Perhaps granting him the silent treatment until her father would arrive would be a correct approach.

Léon’s familiar voice distracted her, and Donatella raised her gaze to meet his, a warm smile appearing on her face. “We won’t be late.” She remarked, nonchalantly. “Everyone else is just early.” Purposely ignoring the remark regarding her looks, the Venetian simply offered her hand to Léon and allowed him to lead the way to the classroom. The lesson on its own had been especially relaxing; in the end, after all the travelling and time spent with Fabrizio, this had proven to be the perfect distraction. She felt grateful for Léon’s presence in her life, and even the scent of fresh paint had managed to put her at ease. For that lesson, they would pair up and paint portraits, so Donatella focusing on her friend’s figure had also deepened her feeling of gratitude towards the Papillonlisse. This lesson had been exactly what she had needed to relax.

However, time passed by rather quickly when one had fun. The Professor cast a charm on their paintings, so they would dry on the spot, and Donatella carefully rolled up her own, carefully making sure Léon wouldn’t peek at it; in the end, they had promised to exchange drawings only after the lesson would end. Stepping out of the small yet elegant Wizarding establishment, the two students had gone for a walk in the Jardin du Luxembourg; painting, now being surrounded by nature. It was really proving to be quite the pleasant day, despite the manner in which it had started.

Running a hand through her chocolate brown soft curls, Donatella let her long hair rest on her shoulders, her gaze turning towards her companion for the day. “It had been quite an entertaining lesson.” She remarked, obviously pleased. “The Professor seemed like quite the artist as well, all his pieces of advice were detailed and meticulous.” Naturally, in a way, she was complimenting her friend for picking out such a great establishment for their lesson.

“Shall we get something to drink?” Donatella inquired, spotting a little bar with iced drinks at the end of the path. “Then we can go somewhere nice, sit down on the grass and compare drawings.” She added with more excitement in her voice; in the end, she was rather curious to see how Léon had drawn her. He was quite talented with the brush, and, as such, Nata’s expectations were nothing but high.