Yo Yo Yiggity YO! Its me again-- and i am NOT doing a twilight fic! amazing, rite? first time i am goin astray. anyway, this is a fic for a wonderful book series called the Mortal Instruments Trilogy by Cassandra Clare. This fic DOES contain spoliers, ALOT, so i highly advise you read this once you've finished all three books. I am a twi-hard, and these books are just as great as twilight, so i would seriously consdier picking it up. :) please review, i know i will have a smaller audience, but please keep the love alive!

"I think your parents like me."

I scoffed. "Let's not push it."

Magnus didn't speak, and I partly wondered if he, for once, could not detect my sarcasm. I straightened up and looked up at Magnus with concern. He was watching the fireworks with a pucker between his thin eyebrows. He looked serious, thoughtful, intelligent. Attractive…?

I tested the word, but it didn't fit right. It was too formal, as if I hadn't kissed him.

I had kissed him, hadn't I? It seemed like such a blur, my thoughts wired with stress of my brother's death and the possibility of my own. Of his. I threw my worries with my parents out the window, realizing I could possibly die, and he could too, and neither of us with anything to show of our relationship.

I thought about Magnus's shocked eyes when I ran up to him, after he'd expected a simple, formal meeting between a gay warlock and seemingly straight Shadowhunter. His sharp green eyes had flashed with such comical surprise when I had grabbed his sequined shirt and stood on my toes to meet his mouth.

The memory brought shivers and slight regret--about how now my parents saw me. And yet, they had shaken Magnus's hand, looked at him with respect, and maybe even looked at me that way too. They accepted me, whether it be that they had no choice now that they only had one son.

The fireworks crackled in golden orange sparks which spiraled towards earth, burning out in the blackness. I watched with fascination as our backs pressed to the wall. On my other side was my sister, who's creamy skin reflected every shade of fire. She looked very beautiful with her hair pushed from her fine brow, a look of awe in her eyes. All grief was gone, all guilt that she felt after Max's death. Poor Max. His name made me tense, made my jaw clamp up.

I turned back to the sky, watching an explosion of magenta and green. It sparkled and spiraled and twisted and crackled, free and careless. Reckless, really, and flamboyantly happy about it. My thoughts went to the man that most represented it, and my heart flopped shyly.

I felt Magnus move, but kept my face trained to the sky. I saw his calm face turning to me, watching me, and yet I looked away, unsettled by the intensity I could already feel.

His fingers brushed against my own, so softly that I thought it was an accident. I tensed, not with fear of being caught, but from--well, love. Yes, love. I loved him. Did I? Yes. Of course.

As if to confirm it, I squeezed his shy fingers, his fingers which were wondering if I would push him away in embarrassment. I glanced sidelong at him, relishing the first moment he felt my fingers squeeze, a look of disbelieving happiness. His pale lips curled in a half-smile, and now that I looked straight at him, I had to say that he looked very different under all that makeup, which wasn't worn now.

His skin was smooth and the color of parchment, his features thin and delicate. Without makeup, even, his eyes were rimmed with fine lashes, and his cheeks looked high and sharp. His hair was the color of the night--black only when the fireworks didn't catch the shades of deep blue in it. His lips, thin and smirking, curled upwards with pleasure and he wedged our hands between us.

He moved his hand carefully until our fingers intertwined, and as I watched the fireworks with a lingering smile, her stroked my hand with his thumb, over and over, sending shocks of warmth up my arm every time.

When the fireworks were done, and the air smelled of blue smoke, we all stood in unison, a line of Downworlders and Shadowhunters alike. I caught the look Jace gave Clary out of the corner of my eye, a look of eagerness. He wanted to take her and dance with her in the Hall--that is probably where everyone was going now. That's where we were going, too, right?

But…did I want to? Did I want to simply stand by Magnus and not dance with him--how could I? While men touched girls' hips and their delicate feminine hands were over their partner's shoulders--how could I? I didn't know if I really wanted to go now that these thoughts hissed into my brain.

"Let's get going, you guys!" Isabelle said excitedly, and I couldn't help but notice how her blue eyes switched to the moving street when a certain blue faerie walked by, his long hair blowing even though he was walking at a slow pace.

Jace and Clary looked down the street with lit eyes, and even Simon, with Maia close to his body, looked excited by the dazzling yellow lights that streamed from the Hall.

"You guys go ahead." I was slightly startled at Magnus's cool, collected voice. I was also startled to feel his hand on my shoulder. I stiffened, but when I saw Isabelle's dreamy eyes smiling at me and Jace's smirking golden eyes, I knew all was well.

"M'kay." Jace finally said softly, and turned, with Clary at his side. Isabelle smiled and went after them in a flash of golden material, and Simon and Maia trailed after, clad in their jeans and tee shirts.

I turned to Magnus, still caught off guard when I saw him this way. All glitz had been washed away, and his hair hugged his thin face, parted down the middle with his bangs rising around his eyes. It looked relaxed without the rock-hard gel.

My eyes traveled down his shirt, studying the smart looking tweed Victorian jacket and cloth that poked from a crisp pocket slit. "You're staring." Magnus noted, amused. I looked into his smirking face, my face trained to relax as well, to not get embarrassed. The emotion raked in my head, but I pushed it away.

"I just like how you look tonight." I said truthfully, so truthfully that Magnus's smirk flickered off into an astonished glance. He bit his lip, and the simple gesture fascinated me--Magnus was hardly ever nervous.

It was gone as soon as it came, and he smiled warmly. "I still say you should let me dress you sometime." He turned to me, looking like he wanted to offer his arm. He didn't.

We began to walk, threading through the excited bodies that were heading to the Hall. "You know I won't let you." I said playfully--and I was slightly taken aback at how my wit and relaxation came out around Magnus. He was chuckling.

"Like I said--a quality I like--love about you." Magnus said, his voice softening, and he touched my shoulder, seeming to pluck at my fabric, but my body took it as a caress. I stiffened under his touch and hissed in a breath to control my runaway imagination--

"I'm sorry." Magnus said quickly, pulling his hand away. His fingers were long and white, naked from his missing rings. I preferred them now, how they looked so artistic and graceful. "I know you don't like it when--"

"That's not it." I said quickly, and at that moment, an excited faerie hurried by me, pushing me out of the path. With a shocked cry, I stumbled--right into Magnus's arms. He steadied me, his long fingers gripping around my arms. They squeezed for the briefest moment before letting me go. I glanced at him, muttering a thanks, and saw a soft pain in his eyes that I hadn't seen before.

"Let's go talk. Somewhere. Alone…in the quiet." I suggested all in one breath, like it was pushed from me, driven from my weak lungs. Magnus watched me as I cut through the river of people, into an alley.

(-----------------)

"I feel overdressed."

"Why?" Jace asked incredulously. I rolled my eyes. "Just because I chose to arrive looking like a bum--" I stared at his black jacket, plain white cotton tee.

"You don't. You look like everyone that's coming." I said. I turned my head, finding that Simon, Maia, and Isabelle had vanished, taking there own pace to the Hall. I turned back to Jace as we walked in the pulsing river of bodies. It still amazed me--how men with black designs on their bodies could walk with women with sprouted wings and flowery hair, or Shadowhunters with tight black tops and thick weapon belts could smile as a werewolf walked by, a certain ruggedness suggesting what he was.

"What are you smiling at?" I expected Jace to be looking at me with an incredulous look, but his eyes where glistening with a pure curiosity in the dim lights. I sighed softly.

"Just admiring everything."

Jace's hand brushed against mine, and I felt a blush on my cheeks. In the next swing of his arm, he caught my startled hand, calming it by squeezing it in a firm grip. I smiled, allowing him to lead me.

We walked into the Hall, and I saw before me everything within my long-ago dream. Couples that were mixed and matched where stepping and clapping to a song that sounded slightly Irish--and I assumed it was a faerie song. Now, at least, I could dance along with them, with their gracefulness that made your eyes nearly hurt from their blinding beauty.

I felt Jace exhale, and realized that I did the same, for I had been holding me breath at the wonder. My eyes locked to the fountain, of the mermaid with the pot of water that gushed down her slim back. During the battle, she had looked rusted, her face painted into a grimace, her pot heavy over her shoulder. Now, her head was thrown back, her carved hair flowing like a goddess, and her eyes twinkled.

"Do you want to dance?" I asked breathlessly. Jace looked uncertain, and suddenly, his eyes caught to something new, over my shoulder. I turned to see Luke coming towards us, his hands behind his back, a twinkle in his eyes.

"Jace, can I speak to you for a moment?" Luke asked, tilting his head. Outside, when I had seen him and my mother, he looked like his normal self, illuminated only by the exploding stars. I could now see that he was clean-shaven, his glasses on his smart face, his smile crooked and love-struck. From my mother. The thought was both jarring and comforting.

Jace cast me a soft look, and he brushed his fingers over my lips before parting the crowd, following Luke as he lead him away. I watched with clasped hands, and decided to go watch the dancers while I waited.

I settled on some steps--many flights spiraled around the Hall. Other people--and Downworlders, were watching. I hadn't seen Isabelle nor Simon yet. I place my chin in my palm and watched a faerie.

He was tinted a butterscotch orange, and his hair was unusually short for a faerie, like a normal boy's--reaching the nape of his neck. It was pin straight and glowing fire, and his eyes were dark and pupiless. His face wore a look of uncertainty, of fear. I watched with a furrowed brow, and found that his eyes were on a Shadowhunter with a soft looking magenta dress, which hugged her nicely. She was a beautiful woman with shorter hair than he, colored ink black. Her runes glowed.

My face broke into a grin when the faerie tapped her shoulder, his eyes switchy and unsure. His mouth moved quickly, and she smiled. With an amazing grace, that of a gazelle, she stretched her arms around his neck and he slipped his hands around her thin waist.

"Clary!"

I looked up to see my mother, her eyes bright green in the amber light. Again, her appearance outside was deceiving like Luke's. She wore makeup, only enough to make her look absolutely stunning. Her lips were an orange-red, making her gums pink and her teeth bright. Her hair looked like shined copper, firey and wild after she'd taken it our of her previous pony-tail. Or maybe it was someone else that had slipped the elastic from her hair, watching with awe as it spilled down her back--

"Hey, Mom." I patted for her to sit, but she shook her head.

"Have you seen Luke?"

"Yeah, actually. He went somewhere with Jace." I frowned. "Looks like they ditched us." I joked. Jocelyn laughed. She did sit beside me, her hand going to the tendrils that brushed my neck from my elaborate up-do. She stroked them, just like how I loved when I was young and sleepy in my warm bed. I sighed and melted, my shoulders slumping at her motherly touch.

Before I could say anything, she said happily, "Oh, there's Luke!"

I looked up, standing to my feet, scanning the crowd for Jace, dressed in his simple monotone palette--black, white, gold. I found Luke, smiling with some sort of accomplishment, his hands resting on his hips happily. I watched his smile soften, and I knew my mom had caught his eye.

Then, I looked to Luke's side, and was startled by Jace's new appearance.

Because I had seen it before.

He was wearing black slacks that flowed from his hips, away from his lean body. He wore a plain white button-up shirt, and I knew that when I would get closer, I would see his marks burning through the flimsy fabric. His eyes caught mine, and his smile that had been created by Luke lit up, and I could see his teeth glint. His hair was tidier, yet still windswept in that classic Jace way. It glistened like gold spun thread from his tan brow as he looked at me.

Luke rested a hand on Jace's shoulder, and Jace nodded, taking off with a feverish glint in his eye towards me. I smiled and descended the couple of stairs I was upon, noticing that my mom rustled, as if to go to Luke. I was sure she would.

Jace dodged the dancer gracefully, and looked up at me from the last stair I needed to step from. With newly softened eyes, just becoming embers from his excitement, glittered as he held out a hand.

With my fingers tucked in the folds of the silver dress, I studied his hand, a warm butterfly, all delicate legs and broken grace, the nicks and cuts like a pattern on its beating wing.

"May I have this dance, Clary Fairchild?" Jace said, just low enough to be heard. In the room of booming excitement, he looked so calm, the wind tugging at his hair, his cheeks stroked with the shadows of his eyelashes. He smiled, not showing his teeth, merely a curl of lips.

I closed my eyes softly, curled my chin under like an awakening swan, and took his hand, feeling the slits that his battle wounds had become.