Falling for Snow | OC x Coriolanus Snow

Chapter 1

The splendid city of Panem, a marvel of technology and opulence, stood tall as the bastion of wealth and influence. It wasn't just a metropolis; it was the very heart of power, the Capitol, where the elite dwelled and ruled over the nation. Living in such a place might seem like a stroke of luck, but as I strolled through the streets, I couldn't shake the guilt that crept in. Deep down, I felt a pang of sympathy for the less fortunate districts, burdened by the Capitol's dominance.

Yet, my tale is not one of societal injustice; it's a different narrative altogether.

As the gentle snowflakes drifted down from the overcast sky, I strolled serenely towards my school, The Academy. Nestled in the heart of the Capitol, it stood as a beacon of education for the privileged offspring of the affluent and powerful. At its helm was none other than Casca Highbottom, the mastermind behind the creation of the Hunger Games, serving as both the Dean and our formidable teacher.

Under the soft glow of the classroom lights, I entered, finding the eyes of Mr. Highbottom fixated on me. I couldn't help being fashionably late, attentive in the clutches of my night-time studies. The pursuit of academic recognition danced in my dreams, and who could fault me for that?

With an air of authority, Mr. Highbottom's voice sliced through the room, "So, Miss Blake, you think you can just walk right in here as if being late was no big deal?" His words echoed, bringing a sudden hush to the chattering crowd of my peers. Amid the bustling classroom, Mr. Highbottom's accusing words hung in the air like a storm cloud, and I froze in my tracks, the weight of his disapproval pressing on me. The hushed murmurs of my classmates swirled around us, creating a tense atmosphere. The challenge in his tone dared me to defend myself, but my tongue felt tied in knots.

My mind raced, pleading with me to utter some excuse. Just say you were studying, I scolded myself. Panic set in as Mr. Highbottom's gaze bore into me, demanding an explanation that I couldn't conjure.

"Do you not have a mouth?" His insistence forced a nervous gulp from me, amplifying the awkward silence that enveloped the room. It seemed the entire class held its breath, waiting for my response.

Amidst the mundane rhythm of the classroom, a sudden interruption resonated like a sweet melody. A classmate, whose face I recognized but whose name lingered at the periphery of my consciousness, rose from his seat, capturing the collective gaze of the onlooking students. "Maybe Beatrice just did something important, sir," he proclaimed with a confidence that belied the usual silence of our academic sanctuary. I couldn't help but cast my inquisitive gaze toward Coriolanus Snow, the enigmatic figure at the helm of our classroom hierarchy. "Like late studying," he added, his words hanging in the air like a tantalizing mystery.

How could he possibly know?

Mr. Highbottom, the conductor of our educational symphony, seemed to decipher the unspoken language of student life. A nod of understanding and a command echoed forth, "Okay then, now go take a seat."

Obligingly, I agreed, gingerly settling into my designated space. As I did, my attention shifted to the person beside me—the unexpected defender who had stood up for me. Snow, an emblem of academic prowess, possessed platinum blonde locks and a smile that could rival the dawn. Yet, such superficial details paled in comparison to the burning question that ignited within me. Why did he stand up for me?

Lost in contemplation, I momentarily withdrew from the present, allowing my mind to wander through a maze of possibilities. Or maybe it's just a need to be noticed, a way to embrace the attention I unwittingly brought about? The idea felt ridiculous, and I dismissed it almost as quickly as it emerged. Returning to reality, I refocused just as Mr. Highbottom embarked on the day's lesson, the unanswered question lingering in the air like an unspoken secret between two souls.

➶ 𓆉｡˚ ✧ ༉‧₊˚.

The day slowly succumbs to the warm embrace of twilight as the school bell rings, signifying the end of another chapter. Amidst the throng of students bustling through the hallways, I find myself irresistibly drawn to Coriolanus, his platinum blonde hair standing out like a beacon in the fading light. Gratitude wells within me for this distinctive feature that makes him easy to spot.

"Coriolanus!" I call out, my voice weaving through the corridor, chasing after him. He moves with an almost elusive grace, his pace challenging to match. "Corio-" My words hang in the air, unfinished, as he comes to an abrupt halt, turning on his heels to face me. His eyes, a mesmerizing shade of blue, lock onto mine. A friendly smile graces my lips, a silent acknowledgment of the gallant act he performed earlier. "I just wanted to express my gratitude for what you did," I say, the words flowing with sincerity.

A subtle nod from him, a silent acknowledgment that carried more weight than words. "So, I guess I was right then?" His voice was a gentle cadence that danced through the air. "That you were studying?" His inquiry unfolded like the delicate petals of a blooming flower. "If yes, it doesn't mean I'm stalking you. It's just you always seem to excel in our class even though you're quite shy."

I couldn't help but chuckle at his endearing concern. "Guilty as charged. I was buried in my books. And, for the record, I never thought you were stalking me."

"Alright," he sighed with a relieved grin. "I was starting to worry." A tender silence lingered between us, and then he said, "I guess I should go." And with a single turn, he initiated the journey back to the world beyond the academy walls, perhaps heading homeward.

Yet, here I stood, anchored in that fleeting moment. A solitary soul, unaccustomed to companionship, I found an unexpected pulse in the symphony of our brief encounter. His departure left me yearning for more, like a melody cut short, echoing in the chambers of my heart.

With a tender smile gracing my lips, I, too, embarked on my path, mirroring his steps out of the hallowed halls of the academy. Each footfall resonated with the newfound cadence of connection, and as I traversed the familiar route home, the world around me seemed to sparkle with possibilities, painting the ordinary with hues of the extraordinary.

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A/N: I hope y'all will love this book just as I love The Hunger Games (and young Snow)