Disclaimer: I don't own The Mortal Instruments. Clary's POV.

It's a Friday night, I'm 16, yet here I stand, outside an immortal warlock's glitter-soaked apartment, preparing for a slumber party with a bunch ofShadowhunters. I used to be normal.

As I ring the doorbell, I watch Magnus (through his glass door) put a bow in an unhappy Chairman Meow's hair. That can only mean one thing—but I'm not totally sure what it is.

Behind me and down the stairs, I hear the bang of the closing front door but no one joins me at the top. When I turn around, I see Simon, pinned down by Isabelle, making out furiously with one another. I roll my eyes and continue to ring the bell. Magnus seems to be so caught up in his kitty makeover that he doesn't hear it. I pound on the door, which finally gets his attention.

"Clary! Ma petit cherie! Join the festivities! Izzy, Simon, come! You can continue in the guest room if you insist on doing the mating Macarena." I crack up. Mating Macerana? Only Magnus.

From the living room, Alec calls out, "Who are you talking to, Jellybean?" He staggers to the door. "Oh, god. Hi, Clary." He was bright red.

I snorted. "Hey, Jellybean." It was Magnus's turns to blush.

"Jace is in the living room if you want to...I don't know, do whatever you people do..." I walked right past him to the living room where Jace was lying on the floor cuddling with Chairman Meow.

"Aren't you the bestest kitten. Yes, you are! Yes, you—Clary!" Jace sat up so quickly that the poor Chairman was flung across the room into a pile of glitter.

"If Chairman Meow were Chairwoman, I'd feel some major competition." I said as I lied down on the floor next to him.

"Ha, hilarious. So, I know how to handle a cat...most chicks find that pretty sexy, Fray."

"Well, I'm not most chicks." He gave his mock hurt look. "Oh, poor baby." I rolled my eyes at him.

Simon and Isabelle finally wander in, Simon covered in lipstick with tousled hair, and Izzy of course with not a thing out of place. Well, except for the tiniest lipstick smudge.

"You've given up on your Mating Macarena, I see." Magnus was on their heels with a tray of burgers and a bottle of wine and whiskey. "Cocktails, anyone?"

"We're all under aged..." Simon muttered.

"Oh, no worries, surgeon de sang, I have some spiked blood for you, as well."

"I'm not getting drunk right now, Magnus."

"Would you feel better if I told you it was just blood?"

After a moment of thought, he nodded. "Much better." He accepted the little bottle Magnus had offered.