How self-critical was one supposed to be of the social interactions they had with other people? Elena Gilbert, alone and with no one to confide in, had absolutely no idea how the previous night's dinner had gone. Did she play a believable Jeremy? Did they like Jeremy? Elena could have ruminated on that for hours, had she not been driven out of bed by the sun (why was it so bright that morning?)

Her head throbbed and the light felt like it came directly from the surface of the sun to promptly burn her corneas. Now she knew why her father always stayed in bed late in the morning after a gathering with his work friends. She hoped to leave her ruminations behind as she set out for her first class that morning, but unfortunately, they followed her all the way there. They know and they hate you. Why did you ever think you could do this? With ginger hands, she collected those thoughts, tied them in a nice little bow, and shoved them back into the depths of her mind just as Mr. Bartlow walked into the classroom with the twins in tow.

"Gilbert," James said and offered her a slight nod. "Sorry, we managed to drive you away so early last night."

She'd hoped they wouldn't bring it up. However, as she was coming to learn, this group of people didn't shy away from saying exactly what they were thinking no matter the effect.

"I'm sorry I didn't get to say goodbye, I wasn't feeling well," Elena said.

"None the matter. We all hope you'll join us again next week." Elena must have looked surprised, for he added on, "Yes, really. We're going to be spending the rest of the year in class together, and I personally would like to get to know you better."

Elena didn't get a chance to respond, as Damon and Marcus (together, again) strolled into the classroom and Dr. Bartlow promptly began his lecture.

First, he passed out a few battered editions of Ovid's Metamorphoses, an epic Elena was very familiar with. She thumbed through it, feeling the stories wash over her again as she caught glimpses of her favorite characters and their misfortune.

"Ovid speaks at length at the concept of transformation, yes," Dr. Bartlow said. "But also touches on humanity, power, corruption, trust, and of course, love. We see that transformation literally in the cases of Scylla and Callisto. But even more so we see the subtle, everyday transformation of these characters. We see them changed by love, violence, and vengeance.

"So I ask this of you. What do you think causes the most powerful transformation? Is it love or vengeance? Violence or power? I'll give you a bit to collect your thoughts, and we'll discuss shortly."

Here it was, the first opportunity for Elena to showcase her intelligence. And honestly, it wasn't even about the prize, at least not then. She didn't know much about the secret society, and while she'd obviously love to gain access and commune with the great minds of New England, she mostly just wanted to prove herself. And winning Dr. Bartlow's contest? Well, that would certainly show everyone (and more importantly, herself) that she belonged in that room.

About twenty minutes later (which went by extremely fast), Dr. Bartlow said, "Alright, let's start with you, Marcus."

He stood up, leaving his notes on the coffee table in front of him. From what Elena could see, there wasn't much written anyway. Just a few scribbles and a drawing that was either a crude sketch or a Greek masterpiece, she couldn't tell.

Marcus prattled on about the effects of power on transformation, how receiving more power makes it easier and easier to get more and more powerful, thus resulting in a transformation that often takes place quickly but at the same time can destroy many.

The twins shared a similar point of view. James touched on the transforming effects of love and the Gods' desires. "Living up to a God? Being worthy of their love and praise? It must have driven many to madness."

While John spoke more about the transforming effects of relationships, both platonic and romantic. "We see powerful, maybe grand, even, transformations in those trying to do right by their friends, families, and loved ones."

That was something Elena could definitely get behind. She would go to the ends of the earth for Jeremy. She would transform herself ten times over and back again if she had to.

Once John was done speaking, Elena fidgeted, twisting her fingers together and tapping her foot. She was used to speaking to gentlemen like this, of course, but usually what she'd said had been rehearsed beforehand with her Father. This time, it was only her, no cues to smile more or bat her eyelashes while she spoke.

"I'm very eager to hear what you have to say, Mr. Gilbert," Dr. Bartlow said with a hand motion that said on your feet.

Elena was immediately upset at herself for her choice to sit as far away from Salvatore as possible. As now, it put her directly in his life of sight and he didn't shy away from staring at her. There was a glint in his eyes, he wanted her to mess this up.

Clearing her throat, she said, "I think it has to be love, sir. Love changes people. It's the motivator. If you love someone, you go to war for them. You'll do anything, even see yourself ruined." She paused to think. "Love doesn't exist without consequences. Sure, Orpheus turns and he looks at Eurydice because he loves her. But he loses her in that moment too, because of his desperate love for her."

"And you believe that Orpheus loved Eurydice?" Dr. Bartlow asked.

"I like to think he did. But I'm not sure. Do you turn around for the love of your life or do you trust that they'll be there? Do you steel yourself and make it those last few steps? I'm not sure," said Elena.

"That's the big question, isn't it? What makes love real? How could Jupiter love someone and see them killed by his own hand? How could Orpheus love someone and yet lose them?"

"I think Ovid shows us that even true love isn't immune to change," Elena said. Jupiter very well might have loved Coronis. But he was betrayed by her, and it drove him mad. Her betrayal transformed his love into anger, into hatred."

"Love isn't immune to change," Dr. Bartlow repeated with a satisfied expression. "Very good. Very good, indeed. Mr. Salvatore?"

Damon stood up, keeping his eyes trained on her for a second before flicking them over to the Doctor and then around at each of his classmates. "I agree with Gilbert, actually."

"You don't have to sound so surprised," Elena said.

He didn't comment. "Ovid shows love as a dangerous thing. It drives people to madness, and I'm inclined to agree. Jupiter, Coronis, Orpheus, Eurydice, Juno, Narcissus, and Echo. They are all transformed by love and its consequences. He shows that even true love can change people, ruin them."

"How does Ovid show us the difference between love that is true and love that is not?" Dr. Bartlow asked.

"I'm not sure true love exists in Metamorphoses," Damon said. "Everyone is so quick to ruin themselves or others. That isn't love."

Elena huffed under her breath. Damon immediately looked at her.

"You don't agree?" Damon asked.

"Of course not."

"Well then, please. Enlighten us."

Maybe she shouldn't have said anything. She paused for a second, accumulating her thoughts "Orpheus and Eurydice. That's true love. I think, and I think Ovid thought that, too. He turns around because he loves her because that's what love is. You have to get that last look, even if it destroys you. Ovid says she had no complaints against her husband. That she thought, 'What was there to complain of, but that she had been loved?' Looking back… I think that's love. I think if you love someone you can't help it. You have to look, even if it ruins you, even if it destroys everything."

Elena did not feel things in half-measures. If she were lucky enough to find herself in love in the future, she hoped it would be the kind of all-consuming love that looked back. For she would always, inevitably, look back. Perhaps, like Orpheus, it would be her downfall.

The rest of the class went by in a blur, with further discussions of Ovid. The class ended with an assignment in Latin translation, which numbed Elena's brain and left her staring at a blank sheet for longer than she'd like to admit.

She was glad to finally escape from Damon's view. Though, she only had a short reprieve in between classes. Just enough time to sit on the grass and enjoy the sun without having to think about Damon Salvatore.

Unfortunately, the world was cruel and she was forced to think about Damon Salvatore fairly soon after that, as she slid into her seat next to him only five minutes later.

"You ever been in love, Gilbert?" Damon asked.

Apparently, she was going to have to get used to being thrown off her guard by this Salvatore fellow.

Had Elena Gilbert been in love before? Certainly not. Of course, she'd had experiences, but never with anyone that meant anything to her. She spent too little time out of her Father's watchful eye to develop any meaningful connection. There'd been short-term romances and flings under the cover of night, but never romance. All she knew about romance, she'd learned from the books Jeremy had given her (stolen, mostly). But how romantic they made love seem!

"No. I haven't," she said finally, after a few seconds of silence between them. "Have you?" She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. His eyes were trained on the blackboard at the front of the classroom.

"Yes." He didn't elaborate any further, and Elena didn't prod. The way his jaw clenched when he said it, maybe it was best left alone. Besides, he was the competition. They weren't friends. In fact, they'd hardly said more than fifty words to each other in total. And while yes, he had been the one to initiate the conversation, it didn't really feel like he wanted to have it.

Instead, Elena moved her eyes back to the front of the class, where the professor was rattling on about the assigned reading for the next week. Probably another book she'd forgotten to pick up from the library. At least Damon hadn't brought up that. She'd talk about her loveless life for hours rather than relive those awkward minutes. Okay, maybe not actually. But, still! It was especially embarrassing to be caught by him. He must have thought she was so stupid.

Class ticked by, and when the professor stopped lecturing, Elena turned in her assignment and slipped out the door before Damon could say anything else. If she was going to survive her first year at Harmon and finish at the top of her Greek class, she had some serious work to do.

As it turned out, surviving Damon Salvatore really wasn't hard once she finally buckled down to work. The first few weeks passed in the blink of an eye. In that time, Elena spent most of her days in the library. She read every book she could get her hands on, devouring classics like the Bronte sisters and as much ancient literature as she could read.

Elena was proficient in Greek and passable in Latin. Which was good, as her Greek class focused not just on Greek, but occasionally Latin and other ancient languages. In fact, it wasn't much of a Greek class at all, but an ancient literature one. The actual structure of her class was still a mystery to her. But it didn't matter. She was learning at a pace faster than she'd ever experienced, and Dr. Bartlow continued to be impressed with her work. He gave her high marks on her essays and was always interested in what she had to say during group discussions.

She and Damon, of course, butted heads again and again in class throughout those weeks, as they would likely continue to do for the rest of the year (and perhaps their lives). Sometimes it barely felt as if Marcus and the twins were even present. The twins hardly contributed to discussions and other than needling her constantly about skipping out on their family dinner nights, she didn't engage with them much.

While Marcus wasn't a big contributor either, he was very intelligent. She constantly asked him questions about their Latin translation homework, and (thankfully) he was always willing to listen and help where he could.

Salvatore she avoided at all costs. For some reason, every time they ran into each other, she managed to embarrass herself in one way or another. It was better to stay away entirely, lest she let her focus slip.

Whenever she did hang out with her classmates, it was always at random. They never planned anything with her in advance and always showed up at odd hours asking if she wanted to do something right now. In fact, she had just finished up her Greek translations and was getting comfortable on the poor excuse for a bed when there was a loud, unrelenting knock on her door.

"One second!" she yelled, grabbing her hat off the desk and stuffing her hair up into it. Anytime she got remotely comfortable as Elena, someone always wanted something. In this case, it was John.

She opened the door and peered around the corner. "Where's James?" she asked.

"Nice to see you too, Gilbert," John said. "It's just me actually. I was hoping you'd join me for a little late lunch at Harmon's Gentlemen's Club."

Turning down such a direct invitation would be suspicious. In fact, John probably wouldn't even let her say no. She'd so far learned that anything John wanted, he almost always got. Everyone was always so placating when it came to him. No idea why. Like most men, he probably hadn't heard the word "no" before.

Anyways, she allowed John to lead her downstairs and across campus to a squat building behind the library that she hadn't seen before. It had dark, old bricks and large paned black windows with ivy that grew over and around them.

Inside, they were greeted by a man behind a podium in a charming suit (the man, not the podium). He led them to a table and presented them with menus. They were small and each featured a handwritten list of libations. The room was packed, with men milling about engaging in lively conversation, drinking, and smoking. It reminded Elena of all the time she'd spent in her Father's study. As long as John didn't make her recite Greek to the other patrons, she'd fair just fine.

Once they were situated at their table, John took off his jacket and slung it over the back of his chair. He hailed the waitstaff with a flick of his wrist in the air and ordered each of them a drink. Then, he turned to her and let his eyes roam about her face for a moment before he spoke.

"I just felt as if we didn't know each other well enough, Gilbert. You've been here for more than a month and yet…"

"I'm sorry. I suppose I've been focused on my studies. Trying to best Mr. Salvatore takes a lot of focus, you know? Plus, Dr. Bartlow assigns more homework than all of my teachers combined," she said. In fact, how did the rest of them have so much free time while Elena struggled to keep her head above water?

John didn't meet her eyes once. Instead, they were always traveling around, looking at other folks in the club, catching on the waitstaff for another round. Even as he spoke, he looked through her. "Ah, you'll get used to it. Plus, you're not going to beat Salvatore, so you best give up on that pipe dream before it crushes you."

Wow. Blunt. That was the John special, apparently.

"What makes you think I'm going to lose?" Elena raised a brow at her compatriot.

"Salvatore doesn't put his hat into the ring if he's not guaranteed to win. Plus, he's been pining after that secret society since I met him. Anything you do, he will find a way to do better. It's a fruitless labor," He paused to sip his drink, then looked down his nose at her. "Well, for you."

"I see. Why's he so keen on the secret society?" she asked.

John just chuckled a bit. "Why are you?"

The question, though fair, caught her off guard. She still wasn't quite used to people asking about her. Usually, they would give a few compliments and her father would shoo her back into her bedroom. Not often had people inquired into her wants, her desires. It was all too cruel that she could answer those questions now, as someone else.

"I don't like the idea of unrestricted knowledge," she said simply. "I want to know what they know."

"Hmm."

"What?"

"It's just a shame, if you and Salvatore weren't at each other's throats all the time, you would make a great pair."

"Ha, well. I'm not so certain about that," she said.

One of the waiters appeared at their table at that moment with another drink for each of them. A few long, long minutes after that (in which Elena suffered in silence), a few small dishes were delivered. Bread and cheese, some sort of egg dish, and a thinly sliced potato dish that was absolutely divine.

John blathered on while she picked at the food. He went on about vague details of his personal life, such as the math test he'd recently failed, a girl who was rejecting his advances, and that he'd blown most of his allowance on booze. Elena nodded along and offered the occasional sound of approval. That seemed to be enough to keep him going.

Once the food had been cleared, John made a grand show about checking the pockets of his coat. He even stood up, checked his back pockets, and looked around the floor briefly.
"What's wrong?" Elena asked because he clearly wanted her to. "I can't seem to find my wallet." He paused for a beat. "You wouldn't mind covering lunch today, would you?"

Most of her money was folded in a thick envelope back in her dorm room, tucked away for emergencies. Serious emergencies. Minor emergencies she would just have to endure. Her shock must have been written all over her face because he quickly waved her away.

"No matter. I'll be right back." He departed from the table and out of her view somewhere around the corner, leaving her alone with her thoughts.

Was this what people were actually like? Everyone had been so inquisitive of her, but at the same time, she was treated like an outsider. She longed to speak with Jeremy, who would tease her relentlessly at her worries but also listen to everything she had to say.

Elena wasn't sure how long she sat there waiting for John to return. But it was long enough that she'd ordered, received, and finished a third drink. Her face was warm and she felt giddy.

When John returned, the forespoken about Damon Salvatore trailed behind him. He stood at the edge of the table, looming over Elena who had sunk down in her chair. He folded a few bills and stuck them under the edge of a plate before pocketing his wallet once again.

"Is that all?" he asked John.

John rested a hand on Damon's shoulder. "Yes, thank you my knight in shining armor." He batted his eyelashes.

Well. This was uncomfortable. She did the only thing she could and followed Damon and John out of the club and back into the chilly October afternoon.

"Thanks for lunch," Elena said to John, then looked at Damon, "Or, I guess… thank you?"

"Don't mention it. Happens about once a month. I think he thinks it's funny," he said.

"That's true," John said, then turned on his heel to walk away. "Bye Gilbert. Nice lunch."

"Okay. Yeah, bye," Elena said.

Damon shrugged like, I don't know what's wrong with him either. Then, something happened the likes of which she'd never seen before. He smiled. At her. It was quick, and she almost missed it before he turned to follow John.

That left Elena, still feeling warm from the liquor, alone on her walk across campus back to her dorm room where she would inevitably engage in hours upon hours of study before passing out under a textbook.