ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴇʟᴏᴅʏ ᴏꜰ ꜱᴡᴇᴇᴛʜᴇᴀʀᴛꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ꜱɴᴏᴡꜰᴀʟʟ

𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚛𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚗

"Father, I have a partner coming over from school today." 

"Yes, you've told me. And who is this guest?" 

Clemensia inhaled sharply. 

"Coriolanus Snow." 

There was quiet after she uttered her partner's name, and she winced as the screech from the chair sounded out against the wooden parlor. 

"Snow?" 

Her father took another step forward, and her back straightened, willing herself to not take a step backwards. 

"Yes," she replied meekly, "he's coming to work on a project for school and-" 

"My daughter does not work with as partners. Dovecotes work alone. You know this." his voice, stern but soft, only increased her fear of his temper rising. 

"Yes Father, but Miss Hunt assigned the partners, I had no choice-" 

"Then you tell her you work alone." he turned swiftly on his heel, walking back to his desk, raising an eyebrow as he dared her to disobey.

"I-I can't." her bottom lip quivered, as she dared not to look at her own flesh and blood, who's breathing stopped as he looked up at her, "I need Coriolanus in order to finish the class, Father-"

There was a thundering crash of glass, the vase that was on the corner of her father's desk now laid shattered, pieces embedded into the wall and some scattered on the floor beside her. She could feel a tiny shard of glass piercing her ankle, barely resisting the urge to change her expression. 

"You are asking for failure, Clemensia. Does this family permit failure?" 

Her eyes hardened. 

"No, father." 

The doorbell rang, and she could only leap at the opportunity to escape teh hellhole of a study that her father had created for himself ever since the end of the First Rebellion, and thrust open the door, finding Coriolanus standing there with a large piece of paper and his curls sticking out from place to place. 

"Coriolanus, welcome," she tried to mask the pain of her foot with a smile, but he couldn't seem to take the hint, looking down as his face became marked with surprise. 

"You're hurt."

"Just dropped something," she laughed it off, though the pain was beginning to bother her more than it had earlier. 

"You should patch it up before it becomes infected. Tig- I mean, my cousin would always get these kinds of scrapes in our penthouse when we were roughhousing." 

"You're too kind." she smiled softly, touched at the idea that someone who hadn't even set foot in the household was already caring about her well-being.

There was silence, as if he was waiting for an invitation.

"We should work on the project," she offered instead, taking the paper from his hands and ushering him to the dining hall, where she spread out the materials and gently nudged him towards a seat. 

"You should still patch that up, Clemensia," was the first thing he said when he took a seat, gesturing the bathroom as if he was already excusing her from her spot. 

"I'll do it soon."

He frowned, as if the notion bothered him. 

"I don't like seeing blood. If you don't know how to clean it, I'll patch it up for you." he offered.