Chapter Text
Hope Mikaelson was a mess the entire walk to school.
She’d overslept that morning—trapped in a deep sleep due to a particularly dirty dream about Josie Saltzman—and ended up having to rush out of her apartment without so much as a hello to her Aunt Freya.
At one point, she had crashed into an innocent hot dog vendor and sent all of her belongings flying, along with a variety of condiments.
Fortunately, the vendor hadn’t sworn her out too badly and had even stopped to help her collect her things after she apologized twice and explained her situation to him.
(He’d even been kind enough to give her a free hot dog. So, that’s a plus.)
She finds that the school hallways are completely empty when she arrives, all of the students already sitting inside their respective classrooms.
Shit.
When Hope finally bursts into class, five minutes too late, it’s with a small ketchup stain on her shirt and no air left in her lungs. She doubles over, wheezing, resting her hands on her knees as she desperately gasps for breath.
“How nice of you to decide to join us, Miss Mikaelson.” Mr. Vardemus drawls in a low, displeased tone. “Although, it would have been nicer if you had arrived on time like the rest of your classmates.”
It takes her a minute to collect herself, to catch her breath and straighten up.
Her feet and calves ache faintly as she pulls herself up to her full height. As soon as she does, several pairs of eyes greet her.
Hope glances wildly around the room, feeling her face flame as she notices the strange looks some of the other students are giving her. Her heart thuds dangerously when she catches a glimpse of Josie sitting in the back row.
Josie Saltzman, the love of her life.
Josie Saltzman, the girl who barely knows that Hope exists.
Their eyes meet for a single, wonderful second and something just beneath Hope’s skin sparks. She glances away quickly, staring down at her feet, but all she can see are pouty lips and wavy, brown hair.
“Miss Mikaelson?” Mr. Vardemus prompts.
After a couple of long seconds, her heart rate starts to slow down and she’s able to answer properly.
“Sorry, sir. I, uh, overslept.” Hope’s voice cracks strangely and she burns everywhere, remembering the dream from earlier that had involved Josie and a particularly short skirt of hers. A few snickers run through the room, which Hope ignores. She clears her throat. “I forgot to set my alarm.”
He stares at her for a moment longer than necessary while she stands there tensely, waiting to be dismissed to her seat.
“Let’s be sure that this doesn’t happen again. Now, please take your seat without disrupting the rest of the class.” Mr. Vardemus finally says, using his cane to gesture to the empty chair beside MG.
He would probably have forced her to stand up there and humiliate herself for another minute or so, if not for the fact that she was getting an A+ in his class—all of her classes, actually.
“Yes, sir.”
Hope hurries along to the back of the class and finds her seat. The chair scrapes painfully loudly against the floor as she pulls it out and she winces, ears burning at the tips. She hastily unpacks her backpack, taking out a notebook and setting it on the desk. She searches for a pen or pencil for another minute, coming up empty.
She checks the very bottom of her bag, where things tend to get lost or forgotten. No luck. She huffs in frustration and only grows more annoyed feeling everyone’s gaze on her skin.
Hope lifts her head up, coming face to face with a curly-haired boy who is staring at her quite obviously. What was his name?
Leonardo?
Landon? That sounded about right. Landon. He’s gawking at her, lips parted slightly.
“What?” Hope snaps, the combination of this morning’s events and his total lack of subtlety making her stroppy. “Mind your own business.”
He turns away from her almost frantically, accidentally knocking his knee into his deskmate’s, Rafael Waithe.
Now him, Hope knows. Rafael is a senior, same as her, and the captain of the varsity basketball team. She’s hoping to finally make it on the team this year, after one too many failed attempts. She needs to play on varsity, like her father had when he was her age.
“MG.” She says, leaning over to whisper in his ear. “Do you have an extra pen?”
He checks his bag then shakes his head.
“Pencil?”
Another shake of his head.
Hope sighs despondently, looking down at her blank sheet of paper, which should have been full of notes. How is she supposed to get through class without a writing utensil of some kind? She could probably teach herself the material, but that would take time, and she had to stop by the lab directly after school.
MG appears to have already filled out half of his page, his tongue stuck between his teeth as he scribbles down the History notes.
“Do you think we could switch off?” Hope asks her friend in a hushed whisper, not wanting to be singled out by Mr. Vardemus again. She feels a gentle tap on her shoulder and turns, swallowing roughly once she sees who it is.
She had not been close enough to notice before, but Josie’s lips are shining enticingly with some kind of pink-tinted lip gloss. Or is that just their natural color? Hope eyes them longingly for a second, the perfect fullness of them locking her in a very powerful trance, before she snaps her gaze back up, remembering herself.
Oh, god. Had Josie seen her staring? She hopes not.
“Here, Hope.” Josie smiles, almost shy, holding out a glittery, purple pen. Had her voice always sounded so sweet? Hope is suddenly overcome with excitement at just the sound of her name in Josie’s mouth.
She knows my name.
“Of course I know your name.” Josie’s smile grows a little wider, though a tad confused. Shit. Hope hadn’t meant to say that aloud. “We went to kindergarten together.”
“Oh.” Hope clears her throat to no avail. Her voice remains embarrassingly husky. “Right…”
She trails off, continuing to stare at the other girl so intensely that Josie begins to look a little bit uncomfortable, fidgeting with the pen.
The pen.
Right. Hope realizes what she’s doing and reaches out to take it from her. Their fingers brush slightly and Hope feels herself burn and freeze all at once.
“Thank you.” Hope tells her, speaking slowly, so as to not stutter or stumble over her words.
“Do you not remember me?” Josie questions, lips pouted slightly as she tilts her head to the side and examines Hope.
“What? Of course I—“ Hope quickly cuts herself off, realizing that she had been speaking a bit too loudly. If the faint blush on Josie’s cheeks is anything to go by, it had been much too loudly. She lowers her voice back to a hushed whisper. “Of course I remember you. You...”
Hope looks around for something that she can work with. She notices the picture of a tiny, potted plant on Josie’s shirt and grins. Cute.
“…you named all of the plants in the garden.” She finishes, vaguely proud of herself.
So what if she actually remembers the name of every one of those plants? Josie does not have to know.
Josie glances up at her shyly from under her long, pretty lashes. “You really remember that?”
Hope’s mouth runs dry. “Uh…”
The two stare at each other for a long moment, both wearing identical smiles on their faces.
She ignores the urge to pinch herself and check if this is a dream. Although, if it was a dream, she suspects she would have something much better to say than ‘uh’. Still. Her and Josie have never really talked much before, so this conversation has to mean something… right?
“Miss Mikaelson and Miss Saltzman, please keep the chatter to a minimum.” Mr. Vardemus taps his cane against the floor for emphasis, effectively breaking Hope out of her stupor.
Asshole.
“Sorry, sir. My fault.” Hope apologizes quickly, not wanting any of the blame to fall on Josie.
It had been Hope who was too stupid to remember to bring a pen or pencil to class. It had been Hope who had stared dumbly at Josie with her mouth hanging wide open. Josie was just being kind, like always.
It had all been Hope.
She has to remind herself of that. No matter how much she wanted it to be more—and she wanted it so, so desperately—a thirty second conversation over a pen meant absolutely nothing.
Hope turns back around in her seat and begins to hastily write down the notes that she missed, not caring about her handwriting. The glittered, purple ink of Josie’s pen wouldn’t be Hope’s first choice (or her second, or her third) but it doesn’t smear as she runs her hand along the paper, so she has no complaints.
The words swim on the page, appearing to her as if they’re underwater. She would normally pay attention in class, but now she’s aware of Josie sitting right behind her, and Hope feels her there just underneath her skin.
Goosebumps erupt on the nape of her neck. She’s almost sure that Josie is staring…
Hope is so distracted that she barely notices MG has written her a message. She blinks and sees his thick, messy scrawl squished into the left margin of her paper.
Dude, she talked to you!!!!!!!!!!!
Hope rolls her eyes at the absurd amount of exclamation points before writing back.
I know
For the first time all year
She frowns.
Not true. I talked to her on Orientation Day
You said ‘hey’ and she ignored you
Hope scowls, choosing to lean over and draw a gigantic, hairy penis on MG’s paper instead of responding.
—
About three hours later, Hope streams into the gym with the other students that have Phys Ed for fourth period.
The horrible stench of sweat and body odor surrounds her in a cloud, attacking her nostrils without mercy. She wrinkles her nose in disgust and attempts to hold her breath subtly as she follows the rest of the class. They gather in the middle of the basketball court.
Hope searches the crowd until she finds MG at the back, hunched over slightly to hide from Coach Dorian and—she suspects—some of the basketball players, specifically Connor Miller.
The class is essentially a war zone where athletic people like Connor and Rafael easily excel in all sports, while people like Hope and MG internally pray that they won’t be forced into an unnecessarily violent dodgeball match.
She drifts towards MG, coming to stand side by side with the boy. She crosses her arms over her chest, pressing her mouth into a flat line, hoping this will dissuade Connor from approaching her.
If there’s one thing she knows, it’s how to look cold and unapproachable.
“Saltzman twins alert.” MG whispers suddenly, elbowing her in the side to get her attention. Both of them immediately twist to catch a glimpse of the girls.
Hope glances at the entrance to the gym and spots Josie walking in with her twin sister, Lizzie. The two’s arms are linked and Hope suspects that they’ve been that way since birth. They’re practically inseparable.
She takes a second to admire how nice Josie looks in her P.E. uniform. She would normally find it gross and unappealing, but the other girl can really pull off yellow. It brings out her natural beauty—just like every other color does.
Josie ties her hair up into a simple ponytail while she walks to join her friends, pulling her hair away from her face and exposing more of her slim neck. She adjusts her shorts where they gather at her hips, showing off her long legs.
Hope glances away quickly, feeling oddly flushed, and returns her gaze to MG, who is gawking openly at Lizzie with his mouth hanging open nearly half an inch.
He looks to be… drooling.
Is that what Hope looks like when she checks out Josie? She hopes not. The brunette would think that she was a complete and total pervert.
“Stop it.” Hope smacks him hard on the back to get him to stop before someone notices them. He startles, spine snapping back into an upright position, and glares at her. “God, MG. Don’t be so obvious, she’ll see you.”
He moans in pain dramatically, reaching back to massage his shoulders. “You say that like you didn’t stare down Josie in class earlier.”
Hope blushes faintly. “That‘s not what I was doing…”
She glances off in Josie’s direction to make sure that Josie hadn’t heard anything.
“It was.”
“No, it wasn’t.”
A weird itch burns into the side of her face, and she turns her head to accidentally meet Josie’s eyes in the crowd around them. Had Josie been watching them this entire time? Did she somehow hear what MG had said?
“It was.”
“No, it wasn’t.”
The thought causes something deep inside of her stomach to twist and a wave of panic rises to her mouth, stinging her throat like venom.
Yet, Hope can’t look away.
“It was.”
She watches as the edges of Josie’s lips quirk up almost imperceptibly—is she smiling at Hope? Her heart pounds dangerously loudly in her ears, drowning out any other sounds.
“…no, it wasn’t.”
“You’re doing it right now.” MG wacks her arm hard and Hope jolts out of her trance, jumping slightly.
“Ow!” She rubs the growing ache on her bicep.
“Sorry.” He gives her a smile that is decidedly unapologetic. “But you were totally zoning out. Did you hear anything Coach said?”
“Yes.” Hope snaps, feeling stubborn. She actually hadn’t heard a single word.
She peers around the gym curiously and notes that everyone is moving to stand in a line, leading up to the basketball hoop. Some of the people in the front are already passing the ball around. Oh. They’re taking turns shooting baskets.
Hope grins. See? She knows exactly what’s going on.
She slips into line behind one of the boys with MG in tow. She stares ahead of her, where Josie is attempting to shoot the ball. It goes nowhere near the net, soaring over it completely. She smirks as she catches a glimpse of the brunette’s adorable pout.
“I heard they’re having a birthday party.” MG adds, speaking quietly over her shoulder. “Their mom is going all out this year. They’re having live music and everything.”
She distantly wonders how MG knows any of this.
“Really?” Hope asks.
The twins have a birthday party every year. She hasn’t gone to one since the third grade, but she knows that they hand out invitations to everyone on the basketball team, so maybe if she makes it this year she’ll get to.
“Really.” He confirms, glancing hopefully at Lizzie with gentle eyes. “Do you think we’ll get an invite?”
“Maybe.” Hope catches the ball that is passed to her as she reaches the front of the line. She bends her knees, focuses determinedly on the hoop, and pushes up to let the ball fly.
She misses.
—
Hope enters Mikaelson Industries at three o’clock sharp, swinging open the door and stepping into the tall building. She strolls through the lobby, nodding at the receptionist—Jill—and the guards on her way to the elevator. She presses the button to the top floor and the doors slide closed as she begins to travel up.
During the ride up, Hope takes the opportunity to check her appearance in the shiny elevator doors and scowls at her messy reflection. The ketchup stain from earlier is still present on her shirt and her hair is super fucking greasy, in desperate need of some shampoo and a good shower.
She can’t let Elijah see her like this.
She looks like some random kid who just walked off the street, not Klaus Mikaelson’s daughter.
Once the elevator stops and the door opens, she bolts into the nearby bathroom, nearly tripping over her own two feet. She shuts the door behind her and immediately moves to the sink, splashing water in her face, before moving onto the stain. She grabs a couple paper napkins out of the dispenser, wets them, and rubs them against her shirt, trying to scrub away the remaining mark.
She’s too sloppy with it, accidentally soaking through parts of her top, but she manages to get the stain out. She figures it’s a little better than having ketchup on her—at least the water will dry without leaving a spot.
She pats herself down with a towel for a second before finally leaving, realizing she can’t hide in the bathroom forever.
When she gets out, she immediately spots Elijah at the end of the hall with some other people.
“Uncle Elijah?” Hope murmurs gently, and Elijah looks away from the small group he had been speaking with.
“Give me a second with my niece.” He waves off the crowd and waits for them to clear out before turning to Hope, smiling kindly. “Hope, you’re here and you’re…”
He looks her over slowly.
“…wet.”
Hope clears her throat awkwardly, not meeting his eye. “It was, uh, raining earlier.”
Elijah frowns and lifts a single eyebrow, as if he doesn’t quite believe her. “Yes, well, we’ll have to get you a lab coat, then. Come along.”
He puts his arm around her shoulders as he leads her down the hall, the stiff fabric of his suit tickling the nape of her neck. They stop in front of a thick, red door in the restricted section.
Hope’s stomach gives a jolt of excitement when she sees him start to type in the password. Her parents had left strict instructions that she was not to play with any of the experiments until she reached the age of eighteen—it would be far too dangerous otherwise—but recently, she’d had her birthday, and gained access to the projects they were working on before their deaths.
“Please excuse the mess, no one has been in here since the funeral. Klaus was particularly interested in an experiment to do with white oak roots. We were in the process of testing it before…” Elijah trails off, perhaps noticing that Hope is not listening to him at all.
Her eyes have gone wide as she takes in the bright lights of the room, her heart filling with a sudden hunger to soak up information—information about her parents.
Elijah watches her fondly for a moment before clearing his throat. “Take a seat. I’ll go get your coat.”
Hope does not take a seat.
She waits until Elijah has disappeared into the backroom, then begins to explore. She walks slowly, moving her hand along the wall to switch off the light, when she feels a sharp sting of pain on her finger.
“Ow! Shit.” Hope hisses, drawing her hand back to her body protectively. Her finger throbs. She looks down, catching sight of a small, black spot rapidly scampering across the floor. “Stupid spider.”