Here she is now:
In the perfect dress, wearing the perfect make-up to match, with the wrong escort waiting for her downstairs. Hope sighs and wonders how she's ever going to get through the evening.
The pureblood looks in her bathroom mirror one last time before hiding her wand in the slit of her dress and leaving her room. The ball started half an hour ago, and she needs to get a move on. Her friends all already left to go find their own dates, leaving Hope alone.
She knows that Landon is waiting for her outside. When she finally leaves the common room, she finds him a few feet away from the door, where they had agreed to meet up. His dress robes are clean and simple, and for once, Hope can't see any stains or wrinkles on them.
"You look beautiful," Landon tells her, when the two of them are close enough to hear each other.
And Hope does.
Her hair is up in an elaborate bun, a few strands falling in front of her face to frame her cheekbones. Her dress is the same color as Landon's tie, a dark-maroon red that matches her lipstick. It's tight around her waist and flows out from her thighs, all the way down to her feet.
"Thanks," Hope says, taking the time to check him out. "You're...okay."
She tries to smile at the boy, but the smile falls within seconds. She can't help but imagine Josie telling her that she looks beautiful instead of him, but she hates herself for thinking it. Josie isn't her date. She could have been, of course, but Hope fucked up any chance of that happening. If anything, she personally made sure of it that she would have a miserable night alone by herself.
The pureblood looks away from Landon and swallows hard. Regret makes her stomach clench.
"Ready?" she asks.
Landon nods and holds out his arm, but Hope doesn't take it. No one will see them until they get to the great hall, where the ball is taking place, so they don't need to put on a show until then.
"Listen, Landon," she speaks up, a few minutes into their walk. She instantly curses herself in her head for calling him by his first name. Whatever. It just slipped out. "When you meet my family, there are some things you should know."
"Yeah?"
"After I introduce you to them," she says, "do not speak unless spoken to, especially to my father, unless there is no other choice and it makes sense. He will think that you're challenging him. Do you understand?"
Landon freezes up a little, but he doesn't stop walking. He rolls his shoulders back and glances around the corridor nervously. "Er, okay."
He rubs the back of his neck but doesn't add anything. It's a couple of moments later, when he says, "Uh, Hope?"
She looks over at him, hesitates for just a second, and then nods for him to continue.
"Your family know that I'm your date, right?" he asks. "Like, they're aware that—"
"They know," Hope cuts him off, and they leave it at that.
The great hall is crowded when they arrive at the entrance. Couples are waiting in a line to pass through the door, with McGonagall and Flitwick checking the blood status of students together. The Transfiguration professor is wearing a pretty green dress with a purple, pointed hat, while the Charms professor is wearing solid black dress robes. Hope doesn't think they look half-bad.
She shoves her way to the front with Landon, too impatient to wait her turn. It's not that she means to be rude, it's just that the long is line and she's above standing in it.
McGonagall gives her a dirty look as she pushes the guy behind her to get in front. The older woman doesn't say anything, though, she just waves her wand at them as they pass underneath the entrance.
Nothing happens, indicating that they passed the blood status test. She heard a rumor a few days ago that those who fail the test will be gifted a face full of ugly boils and a trip to the hospital wing for breaking the rules.
She gulps and shakes her head to clear her thoughts, stepping forward with her arm in Landon's. She takes a moment to look around the new great hall.
It's...beautiful. The room has been completely transformed.
All the long dining tables have vanished, as well as the house banners hanging above them. The ceiling has been transformed to look like the night sky, to the point where Hope can see thick snowflakes falling down among the twinkling stars. The trees floating up to the ceiling are all decorated with silver and gold ribbons and ornaments. Giant ice chandeliers also hang from the ceiling, some of them molded into glass figurines of different animals and shapes. There are a few white tables scattered around the room as well as a dessert and drink table, but most of the hall has been cleared out for the dance floor.
Hope sniffs and blinks. Somehow, even the air smells crisp and clean, a bit like white snow. It's a scent that Hope can't place, so she just stops trying. Classical music plays in the background, and the pureblood realizes that she's impressed.
She was half-expecting something tacky and classless, but this is elegant and nothing like she imagined. She finds herself holding back a smile as her eyes wander from person to person in the room.
In search of Josie, if she's being honest.
When she can't seem to find her girlfriend anywhere, she starts to look around for her family. She spots them in the back of the hall, talking amongst themselves. Her friends and their own families are with them as well. Hope notices that most of Slytherin is hanging out in a single corner, while all of the other houses are intermingling with each other.
"Hope." Her father brightens up when he sees her. The smile she gives him back is almost real. "You look absolutely stunning. As always."
He lowers his eyes with a sly smirk. "You have me to thank, of course."
At the remark, his wife perks up next to him, setting down her glass of wine as she turns to her daughter. The woman's smile is strained. Hope wonders if she's the only one that notices.
"Your father is getting things confused, honey," Hayley says. She throws a glance at her husband. "Her looks are all me, Klaus."
"Oh, yes, I'm sure you think that's true." Klaus smirks even wider, winking at Hope. Only then does he seem to notice her date. When his eyes fall on Landon, he narrows his gaze, looking almost...amused. "And who is this?"
"Father, this is Landon Kirby," Hope tells him. My date, goes unsaid. She hides a wince as Landon thrusts his hand out in front of him for Klaus to shake.
"It's a pleasure, Mister Mikaelson, sir," the boy says, too eagerly. This time, Hope can't hide her cringe when her father stares at Landon's outstretched hand and chooses not to shake it.
"For you, maybe," Klaus mutters with a stiff nod of his head, dismissing Landon like it's nothing. He turns back to his daughter. "Now, I've waited long enough, Hope. Where is your date?"
For a long moment, Hope swears that the entire great hall goes silent.
Landon lowers his hand back to his side awkwardly, and Hope thinks that her own hands might be trembling. She's not sure. They're numb. Chilled to the bone. Maybe her fingers have already fallen off. Maybe they're on the floor. But she won't look down, can't look away.
Because Klaus is smiling at her with sparkling eyes. Hope can't tell if he's playing with her or not. Either that, or she's going to die in a second or two. Right then and there, she knows that she's going to kill Ryan Clarke for this. Or haunt him from the grave.
"This is not the time nor the place to cause a scene, Klaus," Hayley hisses through a smile of perfect, clenched teeth. "Dumbledore is watching."
Klaus chuckles.
"Kidding. Kidding." Hope breathes out a quiet sigh of relief. "Tell me, Landon, how are your parents?"
Landon flushes, not expecting the man's attention, or the question. For her part, Hope wasn't expecting it either.
"Oh," Landon mumbles, "I don't really know—"
"Enough about the boy," Klaus interrupts him with a careless wave of his hand. "I came here to see my daughter, not some halfbreed."
Before Hope can fully realize what's happening, her father is pulling her off to the side by her arm, leaving Landon by himself.
"Listen, Hope," her father says, darting his gaze out around the room as if to check for wandering eyes. He lowers his voice, murmuring, "I've been thinking about our last conversation, and I've decided that I want you to invite your friend Rose to stay over at the manor this winter break."
Hope pales. Fuck. Not this again.
"Father." She swallows desperately. "Don't you think it's a little late—"
"Not at all," Klaus cuts her off. "I'm sure she'll be thrilled."
Hope grits her teeth together to stop herself from making a face or bursting out into laughter. The irony is almost too much for her to handle.
"She'll make you happy," Klaus adds. His eyes flit up to hers, looking for reassurance. "Don't you think so?"
Make me happy? Never. Only Josie can—
"No," Hope mutters, before she can shut the fuck up. She shakes her head, more for herself than for her father. Visibly seething. "More like it'll make you happy."
Klaus frowns. "What was that?"
Hope glances down at the floor. No fingers. Here's her chance. She just needs to take it. Summoning all the courage she has, the pureblood repeats, "It won't make me happy."
She slowly brings her eyes up to his. He keeps her gaze, and she knows right away that this is a battle of wills. She can't be the one to back down first. Hope starts to count in her head.
One, two, three. She can almost pretend that she's dancing with Josie again. One, two, three.
The two keep staring at each other. Finally, after about a minute, Klaus smirks and glances away. The pureblood feels hope bubble in her chest.
"Alright," Klaus relents, taking a step back. "That was all I needed to hear."
Hope does a double-take. "You're not mad?"
Her father shakes his head.
"Of course not," he says. "We still have a few months before you turn of age. There's a whole world of suitors out there waiting for you. We just need to find the right one."
Oh, right. She still needs to get married. Still needs to accept an engagement proposal. It's tradition. Get betrothed by seventeen—the age she can use magic without getting in trouble with the law—married by graduation, have a perfect, pureblood heir right out of Hogwarts. Several kids, if she's lucky, but pureblood inbreeding will make any pregnancy rather difficult. It's obvious why she's an only child. Most Slytherins are. Except for Maya and Ethan. The Machados got lucky. It's all luck. Luck. Maybe, if Hope was lucky, she wouldn't have been born in this Merlin-forsaken family. Maybe her mother would have had another miscarriage, and for Salazar's sake, she wouldn't be here—
Fuck. Fuck. She doesn't want any of that. She wants to wait. She wants to marry Josie.
"Hope?"
The pureblood blinks and glances back to her father, forcing herself to snap out of it. She always gets a little carried away when she lets herself go like that.
"Right. Sorry." She clears her throat and looks up at Klaus. She can't be selfish about this.
"Do you think," she starts nervously. Her words comes out fast and jumbled. She has to clear her throat again. Damn it. "Do you think Rose can still come over? Even if I don't end up courting her?"
She knows that her friend is dreading going home this break. Rose had confided in her about her relationship with her father, and Hope knows it isn't very good right now. She also knows that Rose was thinking about staying at Hogwarts for Christmas. Hope can't let that happen.
"How about this?" Klaus smiles. His lips are blood-red. Hope doesn't know why she's just noticing this now. They always have been. "If you manage to impress Malivore Clarke during your meeting with him, you can have all of your friends over."
Oh. The meeting.
Hope completely forgot. She can feel her blood turn to ice in her veins at the thought.
"Don't tell me you forgot," her father says, watching her carefully for her reaction. Hope shakes her head and shows nothing.
"No," she tells him, and it's almost convincing. The truth is, Hope is curious. She has no idea why she's talking to one of her father's friends in the first place, or even a man like Malivore.
"You have a question." Klaus smiles knowingly at her. "I can see it in your eyes, Hope. What is it you wish to ask?"
The pureblood stands up straighter and blinks to keep her head on straight. She isn't a timid person. She needs to show that. Especially to her father. She doesn't know why she's acting like this. Why she's showing so much...hesitation.
"Do you know what he wants to talk to me about?" Hope asks, at last. She can't quite say his name. Her father doesn't seem to have the same problem.
"That is between you and Malivore," Klaus tells her. Hope finds that she doesn't like how he says it. At all.
"Is it about Kirby?" she blurts. His last name sounds silly on her tongue. Like some kind of fictional animal. It makes her blush in embarrassment, and then harder for even blushing.
"Your halfbreed date?" Klaus raises his eyebrows. Hope nods. "What do you mean?"
If Hope didn't know better, she would say that her father looks almost confused. But she does know better, and that can't possibly be right. She stares at him, waiting for him to understand, but he doesn't.
Oh. Hope realizes. Her father has no idea.
That must mean Ryan really, really didn't want anyone to know about Landon meeting Malivore. Even Malivore's right hand man, her father.
"Nevermind," Hope mutters. There must be a good reason her father doesn't know. If she knows anything, it's how to keep secrets. "It's not important."
Klaus nods and seems to drop it, but she can see the curiosity in his eyes. It lingers like the cold. It is all Hope can do to not shiver.
"You will listen to what he has to say, whether you like what you hear or not," her father says, not unkindly. "Understood?"
Hope tightens her jaw and nods.
"Yes, Father." She can't keep her attitude out of her voice, but Hope doesn't want to disappoint him all the same. She wants to make him proud. She always has. "Should I go find him now...?"
"No, no," Klaus says quickly. His eyes dance across the room with an odd glint. "When the time is right, you'll know."
Hope nods.
She wants to ask him why he can't tell her what the meeting is about, wants to ask him why it's so important, wants to ask him why he's aligning himself with a man like Malivore, wants to ask him about the summer and Otto and if he had anything to do with his death, wants to ask about the Fenarish and his role in the missing ministry official's disappearance, wants to ask him everything, anything, but she clenches her teeth together and says nothing at all.
"Ah, Theodore!" Hope looks up, only to find that her father's attention has been caught by someone else. "It's been too long, old friend."
Hope sighs and watches him walk away with whoever the fuck Theodore is. The night only gets worse from there.
Ten minutes in, she catches sight of Penelope Park lingering over by the dessert and drink table. She watches as the girl removes a flask from her dress robes and dumps it into the punch bowl. Hope rolls her eyes at that.
No sign of Josie.
Twenty minutes in, her aunts Freya and Keelin decide to strike up a conversation with her, something about the updated Potions curriculum. Hope isn't really paying attention.
Still no sign of Josie.
Sometime later, Landon excuses himself after spotting his friends hanging out on the other side of the room. Hope lets him go easily and tries to pay more attention to her aunts, who haven't stopped talking.
Still no fucking sign of Josie.
Hope watches the entrance of the great hall like an eagle, she might as well be in Ravenclaw.
"Trust me, the textbooks aren't good for anything," Freya says, somewhere distantly. Well, not distantly. She's barely three feet away, but Hope feels as though they're miles off. "Once you have the basics down, it's always wiser to make your own instructions when you can, especially for..."
Hope can't help it. She stops listening and zones out, eyes on the entrance. It's been at least half an hour and she hasn't caught a single glimpse of Josie anywhere. Why is the other girl so late?
Hope glances at the entrance with another frown. Just as she's about to pull her eyes away and back to her aunt, a breathtaking brunette in a pretty, pink dress walks through the entrance.
Josie.
Her dress moves elegantly with every step that she takes, but it's her hair that holds Hope's attention. The brown locks are mostly loose, but a few strands are twisted into braids, draped over her shoulders and down her slender back. The pureblood wants to reach out and feel the curls between her fingers—randomly she wonders if it's as soft as it looks—but she doesn't.
If that's not all already enough, Josie is wearing the necklace Hope got her. It hangs delicately below her collarbone, a stark contrast to the muggleborn's light skin. Hope feels her cheeks heat up.
The warmth goes away when she catches sight of the girl next to Josie. Madeline Raichter. Josie's date. Her own dress compliments the brunette's well, and they look good together. They look happy.
Josie's smiling. Oh, Merlin, she's smiling. How can she just smile? Hope thinks. While Hope is over here a minute away from falling apart? But her smile...
Hope can't look away.
She swallows and tries to calm her racing heart. She wants to be the one standing next to Josie, the one holding out her arm for her. She wants to be the one to dance with her the entire evening.
"Hope, honey?"
The pureblood shakes her feelings of jealousy off and steels herself for the night ahead. It's barely even started, and she already feels like leaving. With a heavy sigh and a smile that doesn't quite meet her eyes, she turns back to Freya.
"Sorry," she apologies softly. "What were you saying?"
Freya and Keelin give her not-quite knowing smiles, but they don't comment. Hope is grateful.
An hour passes, then two.
Dinner gets served, Hope doesn't eat. The headmaster makes a grand speech, Hope doesn't hear. Students crowd the dessert and drink table, Hope doesn't follow. They drain the punch bowl of every last drop. It refills itself, Penelope Park spikes it again. The urge to get drunk off her ass is tempting. Hope doesn't. The dance floor remains empty for the most part, Hope keeps it that way. A few brave people go to dance, like Rose and Ethan, Hope doesn't join them.
That leaves her here. By herself. Watching all her friends have fun. Watching Josie have fun.
Funny. Josie's sister ends up bringing Milton Greasley as her date. The blonde is wearing a pretty, blue ball gown with a white, fluffy overcoat. Normally, Hope wouldn't notice, but Josie trips over her heels and accidentally spills pumpkin juice on the overcoat. The sisters instantly clean it up with a spell, and Hope wouldn't care, but the person that catches Josie when she trips is Madeline Raichter.
Her date.
That is not Hope.
Vomit. That's what jealousy tastes like. There is no green-eyed monster. The monster was her all along. Hope feels sick to her stomach. Absolutely miserable. She wants to leave. Her throat closes up. She can't. Funny? Not funny at all.
Her eyes stay on Josie. Willing her to look her way, for just a second. The other girl is at the dessert and drink table now. She's alone. Tempting. Like the punch.
Hope holds back a smile as Josie looks around the room before sneaking a brownie between her lips. She stares. A part of her wants the brunette to catch her.
It feels like static when their eyes finally meet. Brown on blue. A mistake. In an instant, it's over. As if Josie barely glanced in her direction. As if—
A mistake. Nothing, really. How can something so small be so hard to forget?
Hope continues to watch her silently for a few seconds, her hands twitching at her sides as she forces herself to stay away, as she holds back and resists the urge to talk to Josie, to get close enough to breathe the same air as her.
The muggleborn is only a few feet away. Hope would only have to take a couple of steps in order to reach her. She shakes her head, in part to clear her thoughts and in part to deny the impulse to approach her.
Because that would be putting Josie in danger.
Right?
Yet...
She can't seem to focus on anything else. Not Landon—where the fuck is he?—or even herself. Hope steps forward and makes a decision, if only to warn the other girl about the punch. No one will have to know. Maybe no one will even notice.
The step after that is even easier than the first. The pureblood sneaks up behind Josie, staying silent as the brunette picks up the punch bowl ladle and pours a generous amount of juice into her cup.
Hope clears her throat.
"Would you like to dance?"
She keeps her voice soft and quiet, but she still manages to startle Josie somehow. It's a subtle hint to that first Halloween night, so many weeks ago and so, so far away, but Hope can remember it as if it was just yesterday.
The muggleborn must not miss it either. Hope notices that she doesn't turn around, but she jolts forward and almost drops her cup.
"Careful," the pureblood warns in a low murmur, eyeing the bowl of juice with amusement. "Park spiked the punch."
She can't tell for certain, but she's pretty sure that Josie blushes. The edges of her cheeks are stained with pink, but it could just be a trick of the light. "I thought you weren't speaking to me," the brunette says.
Hope watches Josie set her cup back down on the drink table, but not before taking a small sip. She screws her face up at the taste. The pureblood tries not to laugh.
"I guess you could say I've gotten over myself," she tells Josie, referring to their conversation earlier, when the muggleborn had told her to let her know when she wanted to stop being an ass.
"Well..." Josie trails off and turns to leave. Stubborn. She always has been. They both are. "I haven't."
Before the brunette can move away, Hope places her hand on top of Josie's own on the table, hidden by the punch bowl. The nerves and muscles jump under her fingers. She revels in the warm skin beneath hers.
"Don't be like that," Hope whispers, leaning in. Not enough to look suspicious and attract attention, but enough. Enough. "All I want to do is talk to you. How is your night going?"
Josie pulls her bottom lip between her teeth and sighs quietly. She slips her hand out from underneath Hope's. It's for the best, the pureblood reminds herself. Merlin forbid someone notice that that they're holding hands.
"Okay," Josie says, voice small. Hope can barely breathe for her closeness. Her smell drowns her. Dark chocolate and something even sweeter. Just like that first night. "It's been kind of boring, actually. I gave my parents a tour with my sister a couple of hours ago. Lizzie and Dad wouldn't step foot in the common room, but my mom let me show her around when everyone else left. She thought it was cool in the dark, kind of goth way, I guess?"
Hope chuckles underneath her breath. Josie looks like she wants to turn around and glare at her for it, but she doesn't.
"Mom helped me get ready, too," the muggleborn continues, wringing her hands together with a smile playing at her lips. "She braided my hair and everything. I think she's starting to get used to the idea of me being in Slytherin."
Hope presses her lips together so she doesn't accidentally smile. If someone looks over and sees her smiling with Josie, it might look bad. Is it worse that the pureblood wants them to get caught?
"It looks beautiful," Hope tells her. Josie glances at her in confusion. "Your hair, I mean, but everything else, too."
She lowers her voice, just above a whisper. "You're beautiful," she says. Josie struggles to hide a grin. It makes Hope want to turn her around, so that they can be eye-to-eye and heart-to-heart. For now, she'll settle with staring at the punch bowl as they talk in hushed voices.
"Thank you," the muggleborn whispers back, fiddling with the necklace Hope got her. "You, too."
Hope smiles and blushes, just a little. Then, after a beat of silence, Josie asks, "Is everything okay with your mom?"
Hope hums in response. Her mother is the furthest thing from her mind right now. She needs to make sure that she and Josie are okay. That the brunette doesn't secretly hate her, that she knows that Hope cares for her.
"Are you still upset with me?" she blurts out, in a voice like smoke. The words crack at the very edges, unable to hide the longing behind them.
"No," Josie says, like it's easy. And maybe it always has been. Maybe it's Hope, that was always making things harder for herself. "You know I can't be mad at you for longer than a second before I get upset with myself for it."
Hope nods and tightens her fingers around the edge of the table. She clenches her jaw and blinks. Resists the urge to look at Josie and comfort her.
"I'm just...tired," the brunette admits. Hope glances at her in surprise, not expecting something so honest. "I wish things didn't have to be this way. I wish my love for you could be enough, but it isn't. I want more. I want to hold your hand in public and dance with you. I want to kiss you without causing a scene. I just—I want more."
Hope feels the words like a physical hit. Her heart throbs painfully in her chest. She grabs the punch ladle and pours herself a cup to distract herself, filling it to the rim. She downs almost all of it in one go, trying to savor the sting the alcohol in it leaves behind in her throat.
"I want more, too," she mutters bitterly, voice rough from the drink.
She turns to face the room and sweeps her gaze over the dance floor. Everyone looks happy. Like they're having fun. "Maybe, when this is all over, we'll be able to give each other it."
"When?" Josie shakes her head with a laugh like a scoff. "I think you mean if."
Hope watches her for a short moment before she catches herself and looks away again. Her family is on the other side of the room, laughing and chatting with each other happily. The pureblood feels vomit rise in her throat.
"Where is this even going?" Josie asks. "Not anywhere. We can't keep hiding this our entire lives. We can't keep pretending that we mean nothing to each other."
She's right. Hope knows that she's right. But they can try. They can try.
"I know," she says, unable to deny the truth, even though she wants to. Her tongue feels too heavy in her mouth. Something bursts in her chest and begs to escape. It tastes a bit like punch.
"Run away with me?" she blurts out. And instantly wonders why. She would never say something like that. At least, she would never say it out loud. "After we finish school? I'll need to move some things around, but I can take care of us—"
"I couldn't," Josie cuts her off gently. "I could never leave behind my friends and family."
"I know," Hope repeats, even more bitterly than the last time. "I'm sorry. I don't know why I said that. I just, I need you to be patient with me, okay? Just wait. Things will get better, I promise. In the meantime, we have to keep pretending."
"Pretending..." She sucks in a breath. "That I hate you, and that you hate me. Okay?"
"But I—" Josie whirls around before realizing that they're still in public. She lowers her voice and whispers urgently, "I love you, Hope. I love you."
"I know." And it's Hope, this time.
She keeps her eyes on the floor, knowing that they're starting to attract a little bit of attention from the people around them. They probably just think that Hope Mikaelson and Josie Saltzman are fighting again. It should come as a relief, but Hope...
She hates it.
"But we can't let anyone else know that," she tells Josie. "So, when I say that I hate you, just know that it means I hate myself for it, and that I love you more than anything else."
Josie chokes out a wet laugh and wipes suspiciously at her eyes. Hope doesn't glance over, afraid that the other girl might be crying. If she is, Hope doesn't want to see it.
"God," Josie whispers out, like her words have taken the breath right out of her lungs. She sounds almost fond. She massages her throat and gives Hope a watery smile. "Even chocolate frogs?"
Hope suppresses a smirk. Just barely. Josie doesn't have to hide her smile since she's facing the table, but Hope is facing everyone else. "Even chocolate frogs."
That makes Josie laugh, too. It sounds like relief. Hope doesn't waste time.
"So you'll wait for me?" she asks. She gets the sudden urge to lean closer and press their bodies together, but she doesn't. Even though she wants to. Fuck, she wants to. "Please?"
"I will," Josie tells her, with something of a sly smirk herself. "But only because you're so cute when you beg."
"Oh?" Hope's eyes darken. She looks around the great hall, only to check if anyone is watching. It seems that everyone has lost interest in them. She smirks and tilts her head to the side innocently. "Should I get down on my knees and do a proper job of it?"
Josie wrinkles her nose and chokes down a laugh.
"I can't tell if you're being nasty or if you're trying to propose again," she says, covering her face to hide her giggles.
Hope blushes. The proposal is a bit of sore subject for her. She really wishes Josie would stop bringing it up.
"Oh, shut up," she mumbles. Josie laughs even harder, which starts to get some attention. When she notices, she immediately moves away from Hope and the pureblood follows suit.
"Listen, save me a dance, alright?" Hope asks, as they part. Her stomach squirms. Upset that their conversation is over. Upset that she might not talk to Josie for the rest of the night. She waited three hours for her. She'll wait a lifetime. "I didn't spend hours teaching you just to hand you off to someone else."
Josie rolls her eyes playfully, looking just as hesitant to walk away. She lingers.
"We'll see," she tells Hope, stepping back once, then twice. She finally faces away from the pureblood, forcing Hope to stare at the bare skin of her shoulders as she leaves.
Hope watches her go with a warmth in her chest that wasn't there before. Before the other girl can get too far, Hope grows restless and calls her back. She blames it on the punch.
"Saltzman!"
A few people around them look over. When they see that Hope was the one who called out the name, they keep watching. Some even start to whisper. Josie turns her head over her shoulder and raises an eyebrow.
Hope puts on a cool, blank mask, even as her eyes dance with mirth. "I hate you," she says.
Josie hides a smile. The brown of her eyes are bright when they meet Hope's own blue ones. It makes her breath hitch in relief.
"I hate you more."
She turns away again and this time, she doesn't look back. Hope has to bite down hard on her lip to stop herself from grinning.
"What was that?"
A sudden voice on her right startles her, but Hope doesn't show it. She glances to the side and watches Penelope Park stir the punch bowl out of the corner of her eye.
"We were just talking," Hope says, wishing it could have been more than just talking, wishing it could have been—
Wait.
What the fuck? She had meant to tell Penelope to fuck off or something, or lie to her face and then tell her to fuck off. Certainly not to tell the truth and give the girl information.
"About what?" Penelope asks, voice deceptively casual.
Once again, Hope finds her mouth opening by itself. "About having to pretend," she blurts out, before she can stop herself. She instantly clenches her teeth together and wonders why her lips are so loose.
"Oh." Penelope smirks and motions to her cup with the ladle. "More punch?"
Hope narrows her eyes. The words make her do a double-take.
"No, thank you," she grits out politely. She stares into the bowl of punch and loses herself in the red swirls. "What'd you spike it with, anyway?"
Penelope turns to her, surprised.
"I saw you earlier," Hope explains. She watches the other girl carefully for her reaction. "Very sneaky, by the way."
Penelope seems to take that as a compliment. Her smirk grows a shadow wider.
"Thank you." She stops stirring the punch and drops the ladle. "A mix of basilisk vodka and a little bit of something else."
Hope suppresses the instinct to raise her eyebrows, not wanting to show her own surprise. Basilisk vodka is pretty strong, yet she wasn't able to taste it in the punch except for a slight sting at the back of her throat.
"Something else?" she asks. She looks at Penelope, but the other girl's eyes aren't on Hope. They're focused on a spot across the hall, where Josie Saltzman is talking to her parents with her date. Hope sighs. She was hoping Madeline would just ditch Josie until the mandatory dance.
Next to her, Penelope sighs, too.
"You'll see," is all the witch says.
Hope doesn't like the sound of that very much. She sets her drink down warily and motions for one of the elf servers to come bring her a flute of champagne. The elf isn't one she recognizes, so she just takes a glass off of his tray and thanks him quietly.
Hope sneaks another glance at Josie, heart snapping desperately in her chest when she catches a glimpse of the hand Madeline is pressing to the small of the muggleborn's back.
She raises the champagne glass to her lips and takes a small sip the best she can around the frown on her face. She lowers the glass almost instantly.
Her frown deepens.
It's apple cider.
—
Rebekah Mikaelson is certain that it's a boy, eating her niece from the inside out. Or a girl. She can faintly remember Freya making some passing comment that Hope is into girls now, too.
So, yes. She is sure that someone is to blame for how stiff and high-strung her niece is acting as of late. The girl hadn't even hugged Rebekah when she greeted her. Hadn't even hugged any of her family members at all, really.
There has to be a reason why her niece is walking around like there's a stick up her ass. No. Rebekah knows. It must be someone. Someone getting underneath the girl's skin, someone causing her to ignore her own date and pretend that he doesn't even exist.
And if it is someone, the woman knows that they'll be here.
At the ball.
They have to be.
Everyone is here. Students. Parents. Family.
Rebekah looks around the great hall with narrowed eyes. She lets her gaze fall on her niece, who is with one of her friends. Rebekah searches her memory for the name.
Oh, right. Penelope Park. They don't appear to be talking, but both of them are looking in the same direction. Peculiar.
Rebekah follows their eyes and finds a young girl in a pink dress that falls to her feet. A blonde is with her, and two adults with them, both in muggle wear. The woman can faintly recognize the male one, but she doesn't know where from. His beard disguises him.
Yes.
Rebekah is sure, now. Hope is staring at the girl. Her eyes never once leave her, if only to glance at the blonde—the girl's date?—with something like...jealousy? No. That can't be right.
Rebekah looks closer and licks her lips curiously. She realizes that she recognizes the girl, back from the incident with little Pedro in the Slytherin common room. She can distinctly remember being intrigued by the girl's use of wandless magic.
Hmm.
What was her name?
Jackie? Joanne? No, none of those sound quite right. She hadn't been paying much attention. All Rebekah can truly remember is that the girl is a muggleborn. So, then, why is Hope looking at her like this?
So...intensely?
The muggleborn must feel Hope's eyes on her, because she turns her head and glances over her shoulder. Both Hope and Penelope startle up and look away, as if caught staring or worse.
They glance at each other and laugh almost nervously, before muttering a few words of parting and walking away from each other.
Rebekah takes her chance. She sets her glass of wine down on the table in front of her and moves towards her niece.
"Who is she to you?" she asks. Hope looks surprised at the words. She jerks her head up and jumps a little, choking on her drink.
"Who?" A pink tint flushes her cheeks. It travels down her face and scorches her neck as Rebekah continues to stare blankly, expectantly, at her. Waiting for her to crack. To expose herself.
"That girl." Rebekah points with her eyes. She watches Hope turn her body away from her to look over. Her niece's gaze lingers on the muggleborn for a little too long, as if she can't quite help herself. Rebekah smirks. "You're glaring daggers at her date, yet you've been ignoring your own all night."
"And," she adds, "from what I've seen, you've been staring at the girl herself for the past five minutes. I don't know about you, but the only man I stare at like that is my husband."
Hope's jaw clenches. Just enough. Rebekah obviously hit a nerve. Good.
"She's muggleborn, right?" the woman continues. She watches as Hope jerks her head down in a single, stiff nod. "So, then, why can't you keep your eyes off of her?"
Her niece goes rigid.
"I don't know what you mean," she says, looking at her feet. Her eyes are dark and clouded. Like the night sky above them.
Rebekah glances up to the ceiling and watches a snowflake fall. The stars are dimmer than she remembers.
"You're my niece, Hope. I know you." She looks back to Hope. Her gaze is warm. Understanding. "You care about her."
Hope snaps her eyes over in panic. "It's not what you think," she blurts. It sounds more like a plea than anything else. Rebekah smiles. The words are familiar. How long ago was it that she said them herself?
She glances back over at her niece. Her eyebrows furrow and she tilts her head to the side. "Isn't it?"
Hope blinks, seemingly uncaring. But Rebekah knows that it can't be further from the truth.
"You look at her when you think she can't see you, nor anyone else. You can't help it," and neither could I, she thinks. "You're jealous of her date but you won't admit it. Merlin knows where your own is."
The words hang in the air and Hope studies her for a beat.
She opens her mouth. "I..."
She closes it. Her blown pupils give her away.
"Thought so." Rebekah smirks. She realizes that they're standing too far apart to have this conversation. She could cast a silencing spell, but that might come off as suspicious if anyone around them noticed.
"Here's what you're going to do," she decides. "You're going to come stand a little closer to me while I tell you a story. No matter how upsetting it gets, you're going to keep a smile on your face and nod every now and then."
Hope swallows hard. Rebekah can see the way her throat bobs as she steps closer, looking every bit the trapped, scared animal she must feel like.
"What's her name, then?" Rebekah asks, nodding her head off in the direction of the muggleborn girl subtly. A muscle in Hope's jaw twitches.
"Josie—" She stops herself short. The slip-up almost makes Rebekah smile. "Josette."
"Josette," the woman repeats, as if trying the name out for herself. A nostalgic smile touches her lips.
"Matthew."
Out of the corner of her eye, she sees her niece snap her head over in surprise.
"That was mine," Rebekah tells her, still smiling. Her stomach clenches at the memory. Decades later, and it still hurts just like yesterday. "But he let me call him Matt."
"We met in the winter, back in my school years, the exact details escape me." They didn't escape her. Rebekah was just scared that she might start crying if she went into them. "He was everything. Cute. Sweet. Charming. It only took me a few days to fall in love with him. The one problem? He had never heard of magic before."
Hope clears her throat. "He...he was a muggle?" She whispers the words, like they're taboo.
Rebekah nods.
"I tried to hide him," she says. She looks around the great hall to give her something to do. On the dance floor, Stefan Salvatore is spinning his wife around. She thinks of him and his betrayal. Not to his blood, but to her. It leaves a bitter taste in the back of her throat. To this day. "I swore to myself that I would protect him. We only met once a month. Never in public. Always the same spot. Maybe that's where I went wrong. Maybe—"
She cuts herself off. "I never mentioned his name. I didn't dare to even think of him around your father and your uncles," she continues, like she never paused to begin with. "I was afraid that they could tell."
"For all my efforts..." The woman lets out a bitter laugh. "It didn't take long for Nik to find out about him. He tortured him with your uncle Kol. I screamed, begged them to spare him. They laughed at me. The girl who loved too easily. They claimed it was to teach me a lesson, but all it ever did was make me resent my own family. When they were done with him, Matt knew not my favorite color, nor my name. He couldn't even recognize me, but at least he was alive."
Rebekah blinks quickly to quell the tears rising in her eyes. She can feel her niece's own glaring into the side of her head. The woman can't bare to look her in the eye. She had never told this story before. She never wants to again.
"Why didn't they just kill him?" Hope asks.
"Because then I could have mourned," Rebekah says simply. "You cannot grieve a person that still lives. You can never get over it. Nik knew that."
"Why did you tell me this?" Her niece's jaw is trembling. Her voice sounds rough. Her eyes are wet, desperate. Rebekah wants to apologize, but she can't find the words. "Just to remind me of what I can never have?"
"No." Rebekah wants to reach over and comfort the girl, but she can't. Not here. Maybe she should have never brought it up somewhere so public, but she needed to get it over with. "No, Hope."
"The point is..." She takes a deep breath without looking at the girl. Instead, she stares up at the ceiling. The night sky is beautiful. It reminds her of Matthew's eyes. Bright. Full of life. Dimmer, now. "My time with Matt is well over. You—you are not so unfortunate, but you have to be careful. Do you understand?"
Hope freezes. It takes her a few seconds to respond.
"Yes," she says, at last. "Yes, I think so."
—
After her talk with her aunt, Hope returns to her friends, who were trying to wave her down for most of the night. It's not like she was ignoring them, it's just that...
Whatever.
"Hey." Maya Machado pops up next to her, elbowing her in the side. "Having fun?"
In that moment, Hope thinks of her aunt, Rebekah.
In all honesty, she doesn't know how she made it out of that conversation without crying. It certainly wasn't anything she had ever expected. Rebekah's comments about muggles and muggleborns had never been demure, and her opinion on blood status had been more than clear, but there was always something deeper there, something bitter Hope could never figure out. Now, she knows why.
"Hope?" Maya stares at her, eyebrows knitted in concern. "I asked if you were having fun."
"No," the pureblood deadpans. She doesn't get the reaction she expects. Instead of scoffing and walking away, Maya smiles.
"Here," she says, eyes twinkling. "I have something to make you feel better."
The other girl flashes a silver flask hiding underneath her dress. Hope resists the urge to roll her eyes.
"Firewhiskey." Maya winks. "Your favorite."
Hope stares at her, considering the offer in her head. It would be so easy...
No. She can't afford to get drunk. She needs to keep her head on straight for her meeting with Malivore. If she embarrasses herself and her family, she'll never live it down.
"No, thanks." Hope barely glances at her friend. She waves her off dismissively. "I can't get drunk off my ass tonight. I need to stay focused."
"For what?" Maya asks. A small pout downturns her lips.
Hope shrugs. "Nothing."
Out of nowhere, Penelope Park appears on her other side. Hope feels trapped between the two of them.
"Yeah, Mikaelson." Penelope smirks. Hope doesn't like the way she says her name. "For what?"
For some reason, Hope opens her damn mouth.
"For my meeting with Clarke's father," she blurts out. She immediately clamps her jaw shut and—
Fuck. That's the third time she hasn't been able to lie to Penelope. It's suspicious. She was able to lie to Rebekah, or at least try to, and just a moment ago, she lied to Maya. Why can't she lie to Penelope?
Her thoughts wander back to the punch bowl and the image of Penelope spiking it. No. It can't be. The girl can't be that deranged. Yet...
"Interesting," Penelope murmurs darkly. She looks like she wants to say or ask more, but over at the staff table, Headmaster Dumbledore stands up and asks for everyone's attention.
"I hope everyone is enjoying their night and having fun, but not too much fun, of course," the old man says. His eyes sparkle bright and amused, like they always tend to do. They roam over the students and guests before landing on Penelope. "Yes, I am aware that a student among you has decided to take it upon themselves to liven up the night a little. If you could please direct your attention to the drink table, you will find—rather unfortunately—that the punch juice our kitchen staff concocted for this evening has been tainted with alcohol."
A few low chuckles and snickers start to spread out across the hall. All of Hope's friends start laughing, but the pureblood only smirks.
"...To my knowledge, my Potions Master has confirmed that it is nothing bad. The rest of my staff is attempting to devise the culprit of this practical joke as we speak." Dumbledore gives a pointed look to Penelope again. "That being said, we do not wish to ruin the fun for anyone. All we ask is that any student under the drinking age please stay away from the punch table, otherwise we are willing to turn a blind eye as long as your parents are okay with it."
Someone on the other side of the room whoops and starts clapping. Hope rolls her eyes as everyone starts laughing again.
"Yes," Dumbledore chuckles. "Thank you, thank you."
"Now," the man continues. "While there has been much feasting and conversations going around, there hasn't been much dancing, and what is a ball for, if not to dance?"
Hope groans out loud at that, along with the rest of the room. So far, she had been able to avoid making a fool of herself out on the dance floor.
"Oh, no, none of that, please." Dumbledore chuckles again, clearly amused. "Those that are sitting down, please stand up. Those that are standing up, you know what to do. Yes. If everyone could please find their chosen dates for the evening and make their way over to the dance floor, it is time for our school's traditional waltz, the one I'm sure you have all been waiting for..."
Hope doesn't think that's even remotely true. She's been dreading it all night. Dreading doing it with Landon, who is sneaking glances at her from across the room right now.
She sighs and meets his gaze. His friends are looking over, too. They all stand with him, shooting glares at Hope and her own friends. Josie is the only one smiling besides Landon. Caroline Salvatore is whispering something to her, while her husband talks to Josie's parents. It looks like he has a good relationship with her dad, but the mother looks like a bit out of place.
"I have to go get Hunter," Rose says, somewhere next to Hope, or maybe far away. She dismisses herself from the group and goes off to find her own date, a muggleborn in Ravenclaw. Penelope herself snatched a halfblood in the same house, while Maya chose someone in Hufflepuff. That leaves Hope alone with Landon.
Luckily enough, the boy approaches her instead of her approaching him, so she doesn't have to worry about meeting any of his friends.
He holds out his arm and they find a place on the dance floor. A few feet away, Hope watches Josie get into position with her own date. The triple meter rhythm of the waltz begins to play in the background.
Landon's fumbling hand finds her waist. Hope wrinkles her nose. She hopes his sweaty palm doesn't leave a stain on her dress. She steps back as Landon steps forward, and fuck—
He sucks at dancing. He steps on the tip of her toe peeking out of her high heel, and Hope hides a wince. He doesn't even seem to have noticed.
"Is this okay?" Landon asks. "I had my friend teach me—"
"It's fine," Hope cuts him off curtly, even though his thoughtfulness should make her blush. It should make her feel warm in the chest, but all she feels is empty. She really doesn't feel like having a conversation. She just wants to get this over with.
When Landon steps on her foot again as she spins back to him, Hope knows that this will be the longest five minutes of her life. That, and watching Josie laugh with Madeline across from her. What's so funny? Hope wonders. They're supposed to be dancing. Not laughing.
Well, the pureblood supposes, it looks like they're plenty good at both. Josie doesn't once step on her date's toes. Hope suddenly misses the dull ache she'd feel in her feet after dancing with Josie. Josie always stepped on her toes. Now she misses it.
It was cute and endearing when Josie did it, Hope admits, but Landon is just plain fucking annoying.
He steps on her feet for the last time.
"Oh my fucking God," Hope snaps, her accent thick with her anger. "Can you stop?"
Oh. Oh no. It just slipped out. A habit she picked up from Josie. An accident.
Landon's eyes jolt up to her own in shock. He drops his mouth open. "Did you just—"
The music crescendos and everyone switches partners with the people around them, as the traditional wizard's waltz calls for. Landon spins her into the arms of Roman Sienna. Some other couples choose to stick to their partners, while Hope lets herself go.
"Sienna."
She dips her head down in a nod of acknowledgment. Roman does the same.
"Mikaelson."
In another life, he could have been her date. A part of her wishes he was. If they had come here together instead, he wouldn't have stepped on her feet like Landon, and she wouldn't have slipped up and yelled a muggle term at him.
"Enjoying yourself?" Roman asks. He's a good dancer. The palms of his hands aren't sweaty, either.
Hope shrugs. "You?"
The boy laughs bitterly. "If only."
She doesn't ask him to explain himself, and Roman doesn't try to. They dance silently for about a minute or so, Hope secretly leading him to the right, where Rose and another girl are dancing.
When the music turns, she takes Rose's hand and spins her to her own body. The halfblood laughs when she sees her.
"Hey—"
"I made a mistake," Hope cuts her off. "I think I slipped up in front of Kirby."
"Slipped up?" Rose widens her eyes. "Oh."
She instantly tries to make her feel better. "He probably didn't notice, right? It'll be okay."
"He did," Hope says. Rose squeezes her hand in her own. A silent apology. They're quiet for a few seconds. Hope takes the time to look over her friend.
The girl is wearing a silver dress with long sleeves that reach her wrist, the fabric soft and flowing around her legs like the morning mist before a day of rain. Hope wants to compliment her, but she can't find the words. She hopes Rose knows that she looks amazing.
"My father wants you to stay over at the manor this break," Hope speaks up, glancing back to Josie. She's dancing with Rafael Waithe, now. The pureblood has to hold in a laugh when the giant of a boy stomps over her feet. His hand looks like a bear claw on her waist.
"Really?"
Hope turns back to Rose. Looks her in the eye slowly. Tries to gauge her reaction, how she feels about the offer. "Yes...?"
"I don't know what you want me to say," Rose tells her. Hope bites her lip.
"Say yes," she murmurs, pausing as they step off to the right. Even closer to Josie. Hope is sure they might be able to dance together if she gets her timing right. At least once. "I know you were planning on staying here for the holidays."
Rose quirks an eyebrow. "I guess you leave me no choice," she teases with a smirk.
Hope chuckles softly.
"Whatever." She sneaks another peek at Josie. Rose looks over her shoulder and follows her gaze. "Help me steal my girlfriend away from that moron."
"That's not very nice." Hope doesn't bat an eyelash. She can't care any less. Rose sighs. "Are you sure?"
Hope only hesitates a second before nodding. They slowly edge over to the other couple, and when the music shifts again, Rose lets their hands disconnect and pushes her towards Josie. Thankfully, Rafael lets her go and Josie falls into her arms.
Hope snatches the muggleborn away from him greedily. Josie lets out a soft gasp in surprise at the hungry look in her eyes.
"What are you doing?" she asks, her cheeks a bit flushed from the move, but she allows Hope to lose them both in the large crowd.
The pureblood doesn't have a very good excuse. What does she say? That she couldn't take a second more of watching Josie dance with someone else? That she thought she might die if she didn't get to touch her again?
The truth is, she just wants to dance. She wants to hold Josie in her arms and lose herself in the feeling. She wishes that this was her life, this sham of a waltz, she wishes with all her cowardly heart that they could dance forever.
"I wanted to tell you something," Hope decides at last, but she has no idea what.
She pulls Josie as close as their bodies will let them without looking suspicious. The brunette sucks in a sharp breath and leans against her chest. Hope suddenly can't remember who she is, where she is, or who she came with. All she can think about is Josie.
"Yes?"
Hope stares at the brunette blankly. She lost track of their conversation. "Sorry?"
"You said you had something you wanted to tell me," Josie murmurs, looking both amused and concerned.
"Oh." Hope scrambles for something to say. Anything. "I think Penelope Park spiked the punch with some kind of truth serum."
Josie swallows. "She what?"
Hope nods.
"I'm not quite sure," she admits, "but it's weird. I just know that I can't seem to lie to her."
"Are you serious?" Josie knits her eyebrows together. Hope kind of regrets blurting that one out. The muggleborn looks mad. "She's been trying to talk to me all night."
She's been what? Hope feels her blood start to boil. She shrugs off her fury and realizes that they've been dancing together for too long. People are starting to notice.
"I don't know," she settles on saying. She can start to feel Josie pulling back. Their fingers are slipping away. "Just be careful, okay?"
Josie nods. Hope watches her glance down to her lips as they form the words. She wonders what would happen if she kissed Josie in front of everyone.
"Okay."
It's Josie that spins her, this time. She stumbles right into the arms of—
"Miss Mikaelson."
Hope freezes. How she manages to not trip over her own feet, the pureblood doesn't know.
"Mister Clarke."