Bright lights and an aching pain throughout her body jolted her from an already fraught night's sleep. God, how much alcohol had she had last night? Her head throbbed and cracking open her lids to let the light in only made it worse. It took a moment to realize where she was, curled up in the blankets of one of the many Salvatore house guest rooms. Why did the previous night feel like such a blur?

As she propped herself up on her elbows, she attempted to recollect her thoughts. Dancing and copious amounts of drinking came to mind. Taking shots with a group of men completely uninterested in her, watching Caroline spin around the room gracefully, meeting a man at the bar. Everything went cloudy after that. She touched the pads of her fingers to her lips, had she kissed him? The memory of his lips on hers nagged at the edges of her mind. What was she thinking?

Throwing back the covers and opening her eyes—despite the harsh morning light streaming through the curtains—she discovered the disarray of the room. Caroline's expensive dress lay discarded on the floor along with her purse and shoes, and though she wore a night dress, she had no memory of changing. Not that she had any memory of getting home, either. Caroline must have helped her, and for that, she was eternally grateful. The blonde could hold her liquor much better than she, evidently.

Uncertain about how the rest of the night played out and eager for answers from the blonde in question, Elena swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood up. Everything shifted underneath her. She placed a hand on her forehead. Never had she experienced a hangover such as this one. Every part of her body ached.

She pulled a dressing gown over her shoulders and crept out of the room, closing the door quietly and stepping lightly as she walked to the end of the hallway. The hallway ended with an open staircase, giving her a view down into the grand living room.

There, Caroline stood next to the one and only Damon Salvatore. Wasn't he supposed to be on vacation with Marcus still? Why had he come back early? Just to torment Elena? She couldn't possibly see any other reason.

"What were you thinking?" Caroline hissed, just as another figure stepped out of the kitchen. "You could have killed him."

Elena took one small step back into the shadows of the upstairs corridor just as the second man strode into the light. She quickly pressed her hand to her mouth to stifle the gasp. It was him, from the night before.

"Stefan is more than capable of taking a punch or two, Caroline," Damon said, his arms crossed over his chest, a certain tightness in his jaw.

Stefan. "Don't worry about me, Care. Besides, it's like nothing ever happened," he said, placing a hand on Damon's shoulder. She could see the death glare appear on Damon's features even as far away as she was.

"I'm not getting involved in whatever game the two of you are playing," Caroline said, crossing her own arms and stomping away toward the stairs. Elena ducked back to the guest room, closing the door as quietly as possible behind her.

The knock came seconds later, and Elena jolted back up from the bed. She opened the door, feigning a yawn that turned real halfway through. "Morning," she said.

Caroline pushed past her into the room, closing the door behind her. She sat down on the side of the bed but didn't say anything. Her eyebrows knit together slightly, and she chewed on her bottom lip almost imperceptibly. If Elena had to guess, she'd say Caroline seemed guilty.

"What happened last night?" Elena asked as she sat down on the edge of the bed next to her friend. She rubbed her head, the headache still blaring at full force.

Caroline looked at her, a sort of sadness in her eyes. "You had a lot to drink, you'd basically passed out in the bathroom when I found you."

"Oh," Elena said. "I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me last night. That's never happened before. I've never woken up without my memories like that."

Caroline exhaled sharply, a slight laugh. "You're one of us now. We all black out sometimes. But don't worry, I took good care of you." She patted Elena on the head like a child, offering her a small smile. "I'm sorry, though. I shouldn't have abandoned you like that."

"It's okay. Actually, I met someone," Elena said.

"Damon's brother. Stefan," Caroline stated. His brother?

"I think so. Do you think…?" Elena asked.

Caroline shook her head, "Not a chance. He's leaving today, so you won't see him again. He'd never make the connection."

"And Damon?"

"What about Damon?" Caroline raised a brow.

"He still doesn't know? About me?"

Caroline looked at her hands for a split second, worrying Elena immensely. If the jig was up, what was she to do? Would she have to move back home? Give up on her dreams? All because she got too drunk at The Hall, all because she'd danced with Damon's brother? God, how idiotic.

"No. He doesn't know anything. Neither does Marcus." Despite the fact that Caroline said it so matter-of-factly, Elena was still uncertain. "Stefan doesn't know you're here. As Elena or Jeremy."

Elena nodded. Nothing lined up in her head. She'd danced with Stefan and passed out in the bathroom. Damon and Marcus had come home early. But why? And then, there was the odd conversation she'd heard in the living room. You could have killed him.

Despite the inconsistencies in the story and her own confusion, she nodded. "Okay," she said. "That's good."

Caroline placed a hand on hers. "There's no reason to panic. Everything's going to be fine, I promise. Your secret is still safe with me, and if I have to beat Damon up myself to make sure you're able to finish your degree, I will."

When Elena finally made her way out of the bedroom and into the dining room for something to eat, it was only because she was absolutely certain that both brothers had vacated the premises. Unfortunately, her listening skills were not up to par, because as soon as she opened one of the cabinets, Damon cleared his throat behind her and she nearly jumped out of her skin.

Reflexively, she reached up to touch her hat, making sure none of her hair had come loose. Slowly she turned around, with a feigned smile stretched across her face. "Salvatore," she said, crossing her arms over her chest. "Sorry to hear about your trip ending early. I personally would have loved to continue my own vacation in peace."

Though her words were meant to cut, to annoy, a small grin appeared on his face regardless. She was too tired and her head hurt far too much to deal with him. She had to restrain herself from walking out and ignoring him entirely. She probably should have extended a thank you for allowing her to stay in his massive country home, but even that seemed like a nicety she couldn't be bothered with at the moment.

"Yes, well, I am quite sorry to intrude on your Salvatore-free time, Gilbert," he said, a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

She rolled her eyes. He wasn't supposed to play along. He was supposed to be equally as annoyed with her too. If he enjoyed her sharp words, clearly they weren't sharp enough. Besides, she was sick of his outright confusing attitude toward her. Sometimes he hated her enough to make remarks about her to his friends and sometimes he smiled at the things she said. Which was it? Did he hate her, want to crush her in the competition, and drive her out of the school? Or did he want to be her friend, did he want to share his favorite books with her and hang out with her in the same way he did Marcus and the twins? She couldn't pinpoint his personality, and that irritated her more than anything else.

It was equally irritating that he stood tall in front of her with his messy nearly black hair and piercing blue eyes. It was irritating just how broad his shoulders were, just how small he made her feel. And if she could just continue to convince herself that she hated him, everything would be fine. She hated him, he was irritatingly gorgeous, and she would continue to outperform him in class. It didn't matter that sometimes when they were in the same room she couldn't stop staring at him. It didn't matter that when her eyes found his it felt like she could get lost in them. She wasn't at Harmon College to be some romance novel protagonist, and she wouldn't let this typical romance novel love interest with his swoon-worthy appearance get in her way.

So, she simply forced a tight smile onto her lips and said, "Don't worry, you aren't bothering me in the slightest." For him to bother her, she'd have to think about him at all. And for the rest of winter break, she was determined to keep her mind completely free of him.

The remaining week of winter break was tense, to say the least. Elena tried her very best to ignore her housemates, even Caroline. Being friends with Caroline as Jeremy proved to be difficult, so staying away entirely, locking herself in the guest room with a stack of Damon's books, made the week easiest to get through.

Not only did she work on more complex translations thanks to Damon's personal supply of Greek and Latin works, but she also read more fiction than ever before. Not that should would thank Damon for that either, he didn't need to know just how grateful she was for his extensive library. By the end of the break she'd finished reading all of the Bronte sisters' works, as well as quite a few novels by Oscar Wilde and every piece of Shakespeare she could get her hands on. She'd also reread Metamorphoses twice through, as well as skimmed the Iliad and the Odyssey again, simply for her own enjoyment. Translating passages of the Odyssey became more of a hobby than anything else. Finding the perfect words in English to represent what Homer had meant thousands of years ago in Greek would never cease to bring her excitement. It was like a puzzle with no single correct answer. An art that people outside of translation didn't seem to appreciate greatly enough.

When the week ended and she returned back to campus, that same feeling of magic washed over her. Still snow-covered and cold, the campus hadn't changed in her absence. But she'd forgotten, perhaps, the pull she felt to the ornate buildings, the way she felt drawn into the library and her spot on the fourth floor. Walking into The Mac felt like returning home in a way she'd never experienced before. Her actual home, though she'd only left a few months prior, felt like a distant memory, a stain on her subconscious. Almost as if someone else had lived within those walls. A different version of herself, one most unchanged.

All the joy she felt walking up the stairs to her dorm room, dragging the heavy trunk behind her one step at a time, shattered the second she set foot on her floor, her door in view with a folded note taped to it.

It was addressed to Jeremy Gilbert in hasty cursive script. Releasing the handle of her luggage and letting it thunk heavily to the floor, she pulled the letter off the door and unfolded it. Inside, it read:

Dear Jeremy Gilbert,

I don't know why you thought you could get away with this as long as you have. Certainly, I cannot be the only person who recognizes the inadequacy of your disguise. Unfortunately, as you are very much aware, you do not belong at Harmon College. As my prior notes have not been enough to dissuade you from continuing to attend lecture, I will have to take matters into my own hand should you choose to ignore my request.

My request is simple, and surely you could guess. I would like for you to discontinue your studies here at Harmon College, as this is a school for gentlemen and scholars, of which you are neither. Should you choose to return to class upon the start of the Spring semester, I will have no choice but to reveal your secret to your professors and peers. This is your last chance, Miss Gilbert. I suggest you take it.

Yours, Gregory Lithander

She had to restrain herself from ripping the page into shreds, from crumpling it into a ball in a clenched fist. Shaking with a rage she'd never felt before, she calmly folded the paper into a neat square and tucked it into the inside pocket of her jacket.

The hallway seemed to stretch out endlessly in front of her, the walls growing taller and taller as her head swam. She'd been seconds away from re-entering her dorm, from settling back into the life she enjoyed on campus, from preparing to attend class the next morning. Instead, everything shifted around her, vision blurring with overwhelm as she stood completely frozen in a place she'd thought was home.

She must have sat atop her trunk in the hallway for an hour before common sense overtook her and she climbed back down the stairs, struggling with the trunk once more. Only this time it felt like a punishment. For what was she to do, other than give up? But she couldn't go home either, wouldn't go back to her father's mansion to live alone with no hope of a better future. Certainly, if she did so, one of her father's business associates would find her, force her into a marriage she did not want. No, home wasn't an option either.

Unfortunately, the only place she could think to run to made the blood curdle in her veins. Anger. Why did Damon Salvatore have to be the solution to all of her problems? Why couldn't she have some other savior who owned a mansion with many a guest room? She must have celebrated her return too greatly and the universe was now punishing her for it. Saying you foolish girl, too happy to leave and now you must return.

If she'd stayed and unpacked her things in a dorm that wouldn't belong to her much longer, then certainly she would have convinced herself that Mr. Lithander was bluffing, and she'd have gone to class regardless, letting her secret be spilled for all to see. And then there would be no chance of winning the coveted secret society seat. But maybe if she played her cards just right, if she took a minute to think, maybe she could outsmart this Lithander fellow and maybe, just maybe, she could return to Harmon College after all.