imagine a warlock, but not a great warlock. not a high warlock, not even a medium warlock, but just the most generic of warlocks. she can’t really summon demons, her potions are like 60% successful, and the only two things she can do well are glamour her warlock mark and make this pretty kickass salve that’s great for congestion. she’s been city-hopping since she were born in the 1920s, but now she’s in a podunk town that she actually really likes because everybody’s really nice and nobody judges her for being a pretty lame warlock since nobody knows.
anyway, she gets an invitation in the mail one day for a party. the party. the party that all warlocks are invited to, regardless of how lame they are, because the warlock population isn’t that big and the higher-ups always want to keep tabs on all the littler warlocks roaming around. she’s excited, partially because the prospect of seeing her warlock friends is always great, but mostly because she knows that the warlock she most looks up to will be there. it’s not like she’s obsessed with magnus bane or anything – it’s just that in the warlock world, he’s something of an idol to her. she knows he’s amazingly powerful, that there are rumors about him being the son of a greater demon, and that he has the best clothes, but the reason she really admires him is because she met magnus bane once when her mom took her all the way to brooklyn when she was 11 for a consultation, and he spent an entire afternoon and evening teaching her how to perfect her glamour. after she finaly figured it out, he refused to take any money from her mom, and also made sure to tell her before she left that magical aptitude is nice, but that it really didn’t matter so long as she was happy.
so on the night of the party, all she’s hoping is that she can at least see magnus bane from afar and thank him from a distance. her friends are late, so she’s standing in the back corner on her own, nursing a rum and coke, when she sees him.
he’s standing in the center of the room, surrounded by a lot of faces she doesn’t recognize – except, is that catarina loss? – laughing and gesturing and looking absolutely gorgeous. his hair’s different and he’s got a goatee now, but he’s otherwise exactly the same, and it’s just so exciting to see him again that she starts babbling to the person right next to her, who happens to be a – shadowhunter?
she’s a little wary, to be sure, but the guy doesn’t stop her. she tells the shadowhunter about how she met magnus bane once, how it’s really inspiring that he’s always protected their people, how if there were collectable famous warlock cards she’d definitely have twelve of magnus. she knows she’s being kind of embarrassing but it’s been nearly a century since she’s seen him and this whole night is just a huge adrenaline rush for a warlock like her.
the shadowhunter listens really nicely. he nods at all the right spots, laughs pretty loudly when she talks about how much she loves magnus’ outfit, especially the way he lets his suspenders hang around his waist because wow what a look, and helps her get a refill of rum and coke when she’s done with her first. she doesn’t really get a lot of information out of him, but she’s pretty sure he’s important if he made it here. downworlder/shadowhunter relations have been improving recently, but only just barely; she makes sure to tell him this, and he nods, listening carefully when she talks about how the nephilim she encounters never respect her because they know she isn’t powerful.
she keeps talking – she’s a few drinks in now and her motor mouth is running free – when the shadowhunter stops her. “do you want to meet him?” he asks. “who?” she answers dumbly. “magnus,” the shadowhunter answers promptly, using his first name like they’re friends or something, and before she can get an in my dreams out, the shadowhunter is gesturing for her to follow him. they weave through the crowd, between high warlocks and – oh, is that susan? – before they stop at the perimeter of the circle magnus is currently standing in.
“oh, alexander!” she hears, in a tone so warm and sweet that it takes her four seconds to realize that those words came from magnus bane’s mouth. “what’s this?”
“just wanted to introduce you to someone,” her shadowhunter – alexander? – says, nudging her forward a bit. she nearly trips, but manages to keep her feet under her as she looks up into the kind, brown eyes of magnus bane, who’s smiling at her while simultaneously reaching toward the shadowhunter, who moves to magnus’ side, wrapping an arm around his waist as he presses a kiss to magnus’ temple and ohhhhhh jesus.
she can’t believe it. she’s been blathering on about magnus bane for the past forty-five minutes to magnus bane’s partner? his boyfriend? his husband? his person.
“uh,” she says eloquently before trying to spin around and make for the door (she wishes she could portal out but she’s kinda bad at portals), except the shadowhunter stops her with a raised eyebrow and pointed look. she shuffles back in front of magnus bane, raises her chin, reaches a hand out, and says, “thank you.”
he shakes her hand as he asks what she’s thanking him for, so she proceeds to tell her story again, the words he’d spoken back then, explaining sheepishly that she’d already told the shadowhunter – who turns out to be alec lightwood, head of the new york institute, because of course he is. magnus laughs warmly at that, his necklaces clinking as he throws his head back, and she notices the way the shadowhunter’s eyes smile as he watches magnus.
they keep talking. she tells him about her little town and compliments his suspenders, while magnus grins and tells her how happy he is to hear from her and that she’s got a fabulous winged eyeliner. the whole situation is surreal, because this is magnus bane, and she’s just an average warlock, and they’re having a normal conversation.
somehow at the end of the night, she’s calling magnus bane magnus and calling the head of the institute alec (apparently magnus is the only one who calls him alexander? it’s kinda bizarre) and now she has magnus bane’s phone number saved and explicit permission to call when she wants to. she’s pretty sure it’s a fever dream, except magnus hugs her and she can definitely feel that he’s real between the huge muscles of his arms. and when she finally starts to head for the door, feet trudging a little slowly, she turns to wave and watches as magnus band and alec lightwood wave back at her.
and she just… she shrieks a little before running out the door and nearly breaking her kitten heels. because holy cow, oh my god, what a night.
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