March madness was in the air and spring break started as soon as her shift ended.

It was 3:40pm. Twenty more minutes. 2 sets of ten, 4 sets of five.

It was basically 4 already.

And of course someone had to stop by now.

"Can I help you?"

"Is this the Alumni Development Office?"

"Actually, we've merged with Grants and Giving now, but yeah."

"Excellent."

He came into the office and sat down in the chair across from her. He was smartly dressed, like he had just walked over from the business school.

"Are you an alum?"

"No, a parent of a current student."

Rich kids and their rich dads.

No matter the violation - plagiarism, underage drinking, streaking during a football game - there was always an amount of money that could wipe it clean from their student record.

She had seen her fair share of rich dads working with Grants and Giving.

Though, she had to be honest, the man sitting before her was definitely the hottest dad she'd seen walk through those doors in four years.

"Oh nice, what year?"

"She's a senior."

"Me too!"

She pulled a logo pen from a school mug filled with fifty more logo pens.

She doubled clicked the end before handing it to him.

He grazed her hand as he took the pen from her.

Okay…

"So, how can I help you today?"

He was smiling kind of strangely at her—did she have something in her teeth?

"Well, this is the office of giving and I would like to give."

"You want to make a donation to the school? Okay."

She swung around in her chair, pulling a form from a file cabinet to her right.

She slapped it on the desk between them, pointing to the pen in his hand.

"It's for the form, can you fill it out starting from the top?"

He was staring at her and not at the form.

She pointed more forcefully at the information box.

"Um, can you fill this out first. Basic info, and signature here…and here."

He smiled at her again, and finally began to fill out the form. Turning away, she shook her mouse to wake up her computer. She knew he had stopped writing and was staring again at her when she didn't hear the scribbling anymore.

Dude's a creep.

"Do you like it here?" He asked, continuing to fill out the form.

"Here, in this office?"

"At this school."

She laughed nervously at his odd question.

"Well, I mean, four years and I haven't transferred."

She brought up the intake form on her computer.

"Where would you like your donation to go? You can choose a specific department, an office, fellowships and scholarships or general fund."

"Fellowships and scholarships, please."

He signed with a flourish and handed her the form with a disarming grin.

Stop smiling at me you creep. I'm the same age as your daughter!

"Do you like working here? You look very happy."

Was he hitting on her?

He had pocketed her pen.

"I guess? I do this as my work study."

Leah began to type away, entering his answers into the boxes on the screen.

"Almost there, I need you to specify further: research fellowships, merit scholarships, recruitment fund, athletic scholarships or need-based scholarships?"

"Need-based, please."

She clicked a box and turned back to her client.

"Credit or check?"

"Check."

He pulled it from his breast pocket, offering the folded slip to her.

She turned back to her computer to enter the numbers and slowly unfolded the check.

The noise that came out of her mouth was unhuman.

Well that explains the fancy ass suit.

"All of this? For need-based scholarships?"

"A worthy cause, wouldn't you agree?"

"Oh, no, don't get me wrong, I'm not questioning you—it's just—"

That's a lot of fucking zeros.

"— You are about to make a lot of incoming freshmen extremely happy."

He leaned back in his chair.

"My pleasure."

Okay.

He was hitting on her.

Rich, hot dad was hitting on her at 4 in the afternoon.

I'll put that in my 'win' column for today.

"And can I put down that your donation is on behalf of someone?"

"Please, my daughter, Hope."

"Same last name?"

"Same last name."

She wondered what Hope Mikaelson must have done to get her dad to endow the school with enough money to fund a new dorm and science center.

Murder, probably.

She finished entering the data and took the form from the table, adding her own initials.

"Well, that's it, Mr…" she glanced down at the form to find his name again, "Mr. Mikaelson. My boss will get in contact with you once I run this paperwork through the system. They'll definitely want to talk to you in the President's Office. Maybe give you a plaque or something, or one of those commemorative bricks."

"I can't wait," he beamed.

Mr. Mikaelson didn't get up.

Why was he still here?

He just sat there, staring at her, this dumb half-smile on this face.

Maybe he didn't realize he could leave?

"Well, you're done, that's it unless there's anything else I can help you with, Mr. Mikaelson?"

Don't ask for my number, don't ask for my number.

"Do you have plans for after you graduate?"

Don't ask that either.

"I don't know. Maybe I'll teach English in China, I always wanted to see the Great Wall."

Of course, that was his Leah.

He stood to go, tucking in his jacket.

"And your name? In case, I need to contact this office again?"

Uh-huh, sure.

She handed him her office card.

He flipped it between his fingers.

"Well then, Miss St. Ann, an early congratulations on finishing your last year. Whatever you choose to do afterward, I am sure you will go on to do amazing things."

Leah had to smile at that.

"Oh, don't worry about me, I know I will."

/

Across campus, Hope was scheming. She waited at the Grind, nervously tapping her foot against the table leg. He touched her shoulder momentarily as he pulled up a chair.

"Hey, Princess."

"Thanks for meeting me, Aidan."

"Ha, you still know my name, nice, hey, I thought you were grounded."

"House arrest, there's a difference. And how do you even know about that?"

"Things move fast through the Faction grapevine; so you gonna tell me how you're here if you're under 'house arrest.'"

He used air quotes and everything.

"I'm technically here with my uncle. He's…uh, my excuse to leave the house, let's say."

"So the 'rents pulled you out of classes and everything?"

"Don't remind me."

"No school—hah, sounds like a trip."

He dropped the jokes when he saw her face.

"Whoa, frowny-face, okay, what's up? Why'd you want to meet?"

She stared into her coffee like a diviner's tea, hands wrapped around one of those fancy lattes with a foamy heart design.

It had long since gone cold.

"Aidan, what do you know about the stuff that happened twenty years ago?"

He waved at the barista who nodded back.

He turned back to Hope.

"You telling me you don't know your own history?"

"I know about the vampires and I know about the witches...now I need to know about the werewolves."

"What's got you on the hunt for info, Nancy Drew?"

"My parents and Elijah are extremely biased sources."

"Ah, Hope Mikaelson, pretty and smart. Okay, what do you want to know?"

"Your dad's been in the Faction since its reformation. Let's start there."

Aidan leaned backed in his chair, folding his arms behind his sunny blond head.

"Your uncle's a noble man, that's what my father always says, though, if I can, I think he's the only one who does. But, I mean, talk about biased, my dad owes old man Mikaelson big time, I'm talking his life. He was born into the Crescent clan...like was a wolf for most of his life and everything…but he found himself on the losing side of the war, let's say. Fell in with the witches after your mother turned into a hybrid..."

He leaned in across the table, as if someone might overhear, even in the noisy coffeehouse.

"Even though your mom's a Labonair, some of the wolves didn't want to be ruled by a hybrid. There was a schism…like a big division...in the pack, people kind of taking sides, some of them backing the witches. We aren't...proud of it, damn I even feel crap telling you this now."

"Get over it and keep going. Your dad made it out alive?"

She finally took a sip from her latte.

"Obviously or I wouldn't be here, right? Though putting the Quarter and the City back together was a little like Humpty-Dumpty - not impossible - but it took a lot of horses, a lot of men, and nearly ten years. Like I said, Elijah's a noble man, he pardoned my father and put him on the Faction when everything finally blew over."

The waiter dropped off his coffee—his usual order, skim no sugar—and received a high-five in return for his efforts.

Boys.

Hope snapped her fingers at him.

"Hey, focus, keep talking…Elijah pardoned your family?"

"Politics, Hope."

"I know about politics, I took Government 201 and 305."

"Then you know how fragile everything is after winner takes all. Big changes after the war, all around: Vampires banished across the River, them Guerreras from Texas kicking out their Italian cousins, witches, the very few still left, reduced to nothing but tour guides and shop keepers, and Elijah in charge of it all."

"And people died?"

He lowered his cup.

"Yeah, people died, what does—"

"So are there, like, death certificates?"

"I…guess?"

"Then tell me about them…for like the witches and the werewolves: Where are they? Can anyone just go through them?"

Aidan looked around to make sure he wasn't being pranked.

"Uh…well…records for supernatural folks are kept in the sacristy of St. Ann's, at least the older stuff and the witch records after the war. Other stuff's spread out; some of the boxes were moved to my house a couple years back."

"So your dad has all the records?"

Girl was on a mission, Aidan had to grin.

"For the Crescents, yeah, why?"

"Aidan, please, listen, I need you to get into those files and find something for me-birth records."

"Are we…still Nancy Drew or have we moved onto James Bond?"

"Just do it," she snapped loudly.

The Grind got really quiet for a second before the conversations resumed.

Aidan leaned in over the table even more.

"Okay, okay, joking, just joking, of course I'll see what I can do, but there are lots and lots of boxes, can you narrow it down for me?"

"Like what?"

"Well, got a birthday?"

"Yes, but I'm pretty sure it's not her actual birthday."

"Okay…what's her name?"

"Well, I'm pretty sure it's not her actual name…"

"Hope, you gotta give me something, I'm going in blind."

"Okay, sorry, I know…try Leah, that's her name. St. Ann is her Parish name, her real last name could be anything."

"But you know at least one parent was a werewolf?"

"Yeah, her father."

"And you know he was from the Crescent clan?"

"….No."

"Hope."

"I know, I know, shot in the dark, needle in a haystack, yadda yadda, but please, just see what you can find for me?"

He was smiling mischievously again, bringing his cup to his lips in a slow swoop.

"Okay, but only because you ask so nicely."

She chuckled.

"Only because I ask you at all, get real, like someone who's been following me around all year isn't eager as hell to get on my good side."

He set his cup down in the saucer.

"You know that was your dad's orders, right? I wasn't just like, being a creepy stalker."

"And at the Faction Christmas Party?"

"Oh, that was different, I was trying to ask you for a dance."

She had a hard time hiding her growing grin, so she hid her smile in her coffee mug.

"I was busy all night."

"You don't have to tell me, Princess Mikaelson has to see to her royal duties."

"You don't have to call me that, you know."

"I know."

"You're just doing this to be annoying, right?"

"Yes." He set down a ten dollar bill, paying for both of them.

For some reason, that completely threw her; she didn't even realize he was standing, zipping up his fleece and pushing in his chair.

"Enjoy the rest of your day, Hope Mikaelson. And don't worry, I'll get you that birth certificate."