Chapter Text
It should not rankle on him as much as it did. Except it was hard to ignore Clemensia’s attention when she was in a majority of his lectures this term. Though lack of attention might be a better description.
Clemensia isn’t particularly rude to him at all, but she’s just so frustratingly polite. Polite in the way that would not bother him if they had not known each other since they were six years old.
To him, it feels as if she sees him as nothing more than a stranger. We’ve known each other for years and it– Coriolanus isn’t quite sure what that bitter feeling bubbling in him is.
Guilt that he hadn’t made more of an effort to repair things?
Anger that she could so easily discard him? He was a Snow – so how dare she?
Fear that he has so foolishly lost a valuable ally?
Whatever it was, Coriolanus tries to inquire amongst his friends from his Academy days about Clemensia. To his surprise, he finds that he is left with less answers than he expected.
Most of them agree on one thing – she’s busy with school work. Even Lysistrata had given him very little information to work with.
“I worry for her, she seems like she’s overworking herself,” mused Lysistrata. “At least, she looks like she’s recovered from the flu.”
The flu? Then the realization dawns on him. Right. The flu. Coriolanus supposed it was a relief to hear that the incident with the snakes remained unknown by the others. Absent-mindedly he wonders if that means that she’s fully recovered. Her hands don’t quite twitch as much these days.
Is it worth the effort?
It should be. Because he still has more than half the semester left, and if she’s in a majority of his courses and tutorials, it is far better to have a warmer relationship than whatever it is they have right now.
The Dovecotes are a powerful ally to have. The Plinth’s money was not enough – it was a step in restoring the Snows, but it didn’t come with the reputation that those of the old guard did. And he needed all the allies he could have.
He may not have won the Plinth prize, but she did. And last year, they all knew that she was one of the few real contenders for the prize had they not changed it last minute and attached it to the games.
So it is a slow progress. Torturously so.
But Coriolanus is nothing if not persistent, and it pays off as her smiles become a little less polite and a bit more like the ones that Clemmie would use.
Over the weeks, he learns that Clemensia had been in the same lecture hall as him for Dr. Gaul’s special honour class in military strategy. She sits further back, and is the last one to enter and the first to leave.
In fact, their schedules are nearly identical. A tidbit he learned had been intentional. “Well how else do you think I set up your schedule?”
Coriolanus stared at Dr. Gaul, perplexed.
“I simply took the liberty of using her schedule as a base for yours with a few tweaks here and there.”
“Why?”
“I seem to remember the two of you taking quite a few courses together back at the Academy. And your former teachers said that you two were always getting the highest of marks, pushing the other to perform better. So I figured her schedule was as good a starting point as any, and provided proper motivation to succeed. Of course, you’re welcome to change your schedule around for the spring term.”
There’s one question lingering in his mind. “And the honours class?” Because Coriolanus still can’t fathom why Clemensia would take a class that the doctor was teaching. From the brief glimpses he could catch, he could see the signals that one would only know after years of knowing Clemensia, that she disliked Dr. Gaul at the very least – if not fearful of the doctor. Not that he could blame her for it.
The doctor laughs. “Oh, her father insisted that I give her a spot since she’d forgotten to sign up. Despite Miss Dovecote’s brief illness this summer, I have to admit she’s a clever student, so who was I to deny her father?”
The words float around in his head all night and he isn’t quite sure what to make of it.
His language class is one of the few classes where he has more of an opportunity to speak to Clemensia than others. For one the class size is small. Class participation and conversation also played a role in that they had to interact with one another.
There were no assigned seats, and though they had first started at opposite sides of the classroom, they now sit beside each other.
Neither of them were one for partnering with people who’d only slow them down. Even when she’d been unfailingly polite to him at the beginning of term, they had known that unless they partnered with each other in class, they’d probably go mad from working with the others.
But today she’s running late. So late that Coriolnaus isn’t even sure if Clemensia is planning to come to class today.
Apparently he’s not the only one to think that either because one of the girls in their class decides to take the empty spot beside him. Like it wasn’t Clemensia’s unspoken spot.
His mouth opens – but she beats him to it. “So, the homework,” simpers Iris. “I was wondering if I could ask your opinion on something.”
He rather she didn’t. But as the ever-helpful and charming student, Coriolanus smiled instead. “Of course.” Truth to be told, he had barely exchanged more than a handful of words with Iris this term, and had little reason to want to change that.
He was well aware that after his summer as a peacekeeper, the attention he gets from his classmates have increased.
Not that it had affected Clemensia.
“So how is it?”
This is when Coriolanus tunes back into the conversation. Right. He was supposed to look over his classmate’s draft. He skimmed over a few lines. “I think it shows real promise from what I’ve read so far.” It is the most atrocious piece of writing he has ever read. Enough so Coriolanus wonders how his classmate had gotten into the advanced class with the rest of them.
As he keeps reading over his classmate’s draft, Coriolanus finds himself disheartened by how his day was going so far.
He points out a few obvious errors and keeps reading, ignoring the blush on the girl’s cheeks whenever he glances her way.
He’s pretty much done reading over the draft when Clemensia finally makes her appearance as she comes through the classroom door. Finally. When their eyes meet, he wants to tell Clemensia to chase off Iris so he doesn’t have to deal with their irritable classmate any longer.
But she’s either feeling petty or she doesn’t actually see his pleading gaze because she settles into the table behind him instead.
Betrayals like these had never stung quite so much.
“Do you think it’s alright?” asks Iris from beside him, prompting Coriolanus to pull himself out of his thoughts.
“It’s just small grammar errors here and there.”
“Really?”
He tried for a charming smile. “It really isn’t as bad as you make it out to be.” He had a role to play after all. “Tes fautes de grammaire sont charmantes, ma chère.” It really wasn’t.
Just as he said that, Iris predictably blushed. And from behind him, there was a snort of laughter that he instinctively knew was Clemensia’s without even turning back.
As he turned, confirming his guess, all she did was simply send him a cheeky smile at the sight of his glare.
Is this progress? It was hard to say. He supposed he’d count it as one, considering he’d made her laugh.
But before he can think to speak, their professor comes in, looking just a bit more rumpled than ever, and asks for the class’ attention.
After class then.
Technically it was Iris’ fault.
Or perhaps it was really Clemensia’s – because if she hadn’t been so late to class today, Coriolanus wouldn’t have had to deal with his unbearable classmate for the rest of class.
Any plans of speaking to his old friend went out the door when Iris delayed him with some inane question. Clemensia, unsurprisingly, does not linger in class once it’s over.
Years ago, they might have waited for one another. But they were also not the same children from back then.
And he cannot spend the majority of his free time, trying to strengthen what was the remainder of their relationship. He has to study too if he wants to maintain his reputation as one of the top students at the university.
Alas, because of Iris, he’s running late and his usual spot in the library is occupied. Grumbling to himself, he turns the corner in search of another quiet place to study.
It felt like every student in the university had decided today was the day to study. Ridiculous . Every spot that he checked was either full or filled with people that he’d rather avoid. In the end, he stumbles upon Clemensia on the fourth floor of the library, tucked in a corner with an entire table to herself.
“Can I study here?” Even if she said no, he’d stay. Because for one, Clemensia was one of the few people that he didn't mind studying in silence with. And two, in a way, this is her fault that he had to walk up so many stairs to find a decent study space.
It doesn’t have to come to that because she glanced up at the sound of his voice, moving some of her papers to the side to make space.
The minutes tick by as the two focus more on their course work than with making conversation with the other. But slowly, they fill the silence with words as they discuss their newly assigned essay from the language class they’d just had.
From there, he isn’t so against the idea as they swap drafts to peer review. And unlike Iris, Clemensia’s grammar won’t make him want to bang his head against the table.
He points out a few things he thinks she could fix, and he doesn’t miss the gleam of mischief in her eyes.
“Mes fautes de grammaire ne sont pas charmantes, mon cher?”
He lets out a sigh, knowing that she’s making fun of his earlier words. “Pas du tout, Clemmie.” Her nickname slips out easily – too easily. And for a second he wonders if this is too soon.
But the sight of the grin that follows causes him to relax.
Now this was progress. Because although their relationship had been shakily repaired before he left for twelve, Coriolanus knows that Clemensia isn’t above calling people out should the need arise. After all, few people could get away with calling her ‘Clemmie’, and even fewer could get away with using it consistently.
A peal of giggles soon followed.
“You thought it funny?” Had it been someone else, Coriolanus might have found himself a little more heated at the thought of someone laughing at him. “Oh, laugh all you want,” he says, pretending to be angry.
“I didn’t think it, I knew it,” she says, trying to bite back her laughter. “Since when does a perfectionist like you find mistakes ‘charming’?”
She got him there. “It was a good line,” he says half-heartedly, refusing to admit that Clemensia made a good point.
“Whatever you say, Coryo.”