Lizzie didn’t know what it was. It wasn’t like she had never been down to the cellars of the school before, but besides holding werewolves on the full moon, it really didn’t serve a purpose. Her father tended to keep it locked up pretty tight, since students liked to use it for … well, horny teenager purposes. But something was drawing her down there, by herself, in the middle of the day, not on a full moon. She couldn’t explain it. 

She walked as quietly as she could down the steps, surprised to find the door at the bottom of the stairs unlocked. It was never unlocked. She listened for voices, maybe her dad’s as he showed a new werewolf student the cells or some witches who had spelled the door open and snuck in, but there was nothing. It was silent. 

Lizzie was ready to leave the cellar and do her best to shake off the nagging feeling when she spotted something in the very last cell in the line. Red hair hanging over the edge of a dingy bench. 

“Hello?” Lizzie stepped forward, and the entire girl came into view. She was pretty - really pretty, with bright blue eyes and perfect white teeth in the smile she flashed at her.

“Lizzie.”

The blonde furrowed her eyebrows. “How do you know my name?”

“What?” The girl’s smile slipped. 

“Actually, better question: who are you and why are you down here in the cellars? It’s not a full moon, and it’s off-limits to students.”

The girl jumped to her feet, rushing to the bars like she wanted to get as close to Lizzie as possible. Her eyes bounced back and forth between Lizzie’s for a moment, like she was considering something.

“You really did it, huh?” she asked quietly.

“Did what?”

“Lizzie, I …” The girl picked up Lizzie’s hand through the bars. It felt familiar somehow. Like Lizzie was meant to be holding her hand, even though she’d definitely never seen a girl this pretty before. “It’s me. Hope. I’m your girlfriend.”

Lizzie’s lips parted. Hope. Why did that name elicit such a response from her body but not her mind? And did she say girlfriend? 

“What? I think I would know if you were my girlfriend.” But Lizzie didn’t yank her hand away. 

Hope reached through the bars and brushed Lizzie’s hair off her forehead. It was so god damn familiar.

“Somebody’s taken your memories away …” Hope murmured.

“Why would they do that?”

Hope pressed her mouth into a flat line.

“And why are you locked down here?”

“Some witches spelled me in.” Hope pretended to be moderately displeased by the situation. “I can’t get out.”

“Oh, that should be easy. I’m a -” Lizzie stopped mid-sentence when she realized Hope would already know if she was her girlfriend.

“A siphoner, I know.” Hope smiled. “I was waiting for you to come find me.”

Lizzie smiled back. Butterflies fluttered around inside her stomach. She pressed a hand against the invisible barrier keeping Hope in. The air shimmered and slowly faded until Lizzie could slide the cell door open and Hope stepped out. She wasted no time locking her arms around Lizzie’s waist and pulling her into a tight kiss. Lizzie’s eyes widened for a moment before she melted into it. Yes, this was right. Hope. Her girlfriend. Her girlfriend, Hope Mikaelson.

Lizzie’s eyes shot open. “Hope … Andrea … Mikaelson.”

Hope scrunched her face up. “You remember me?”

“No, but I … your name on my tongue is, like, muscle memory.” Lizzie couldn’t make sense of it. Why couldn’t she remember Hope but she could remember her name and her touch and her taste? “Why would somebody want me to forget you?”

“It’s kind of a long story,” Hope sighed. “I’ll tell you all about it, but we have to get out of here first and without anyone seeing us.”

“What? Why?”

“Just … do you trust me?” Hope’s eyes bore into Lizzie’s as she gripped her hands tight enough to hurt. 

Lizzie didn’t even have to consider it. She trusted this little redheaded girl with her life, even if she’d just met her a few moments ago. “Of course.” 

“Ad somnum.”