"You should write a book," Ron told Hermione as he cut up his potatoes, "translating mad things girls do so boys can understand them."

JK Rowling

Prologue:

"It's alright, grandma. I have you." She mumbled, bending down to grasp the old woman's elbows. She hauled her onto the bed, her own muscles aching at the action. She was used to it though. It was a daily routine.

"Thank you, honey." Charlotte whispered to her grand daughter, eyes crinkling with the coming of a smile. Clary returned the gesture and reached up to gather her backpack and supplies.

"I'll be back soon. The food's on the cabinet." She called, glancing back to the bed.

"Where are you going?" Her grandma asked, curiousity laced in her weak voice. Her white-gray hair was growing shorter. Strands fell off almost every time Clary gave her a shower. Her face was gaining wrinkles as age took a heavy toll on her. The only thing that remained the same throughout all the time Clary had lived with her was her blue eyes. Luminous.

"I told you earlier, gamma. I'm heading to the job faire. We're running short on money." The older woman shook her head in slight amusement.

"You work too hard. You're too young." Clary chuckled before placing a soft kiss on her pale forehead. Waving one last goodbye, she disappeared out of the room and down the apartment stairs.

[xx]

Clary's feet pounded on the sidewalk, her bag flinging itself onto her back. She took a sharp turn and stopped at the foot of a tall building made with rusted brown bricks. Checking the address one last time, she released a breath. God, please let me find a job.

There was a crowd of people already there wearing expensive business suits and elegant dresses. Clary stared at her own rumbled hoodie and jeans. It wasn't the best attire. Hopefully clothes would not be a factor to the job. Loud chatter was heard on several desks and a man waved her over, his glasses askew. Simon Lewis. Her job agent.

"What is this? Third job?" He joked, cracking a wide grin. Clary waved her hair from her face and took a seat on the leather chair across from him.

"We're running low, Clary. With your experience and your lack of educat-" She stopped him with a look of desperation.

"Anything please. I need the money, Si." He bit his bottom lip and continued to scroll through his laptop, clicking his way to different web pages. She tapped her fingers nervously on his files, gazing at the many people who appeared much more successful than she was.

"Alright, Clary. I think I found us one." Her green eyes widened and she leaned forward to hear his voice over the ruckus behind her.

"It's a housekeeper job..." He faltered. "In the Herondale manor. It pays quite well and it only requires you to do basic cleaning while the owners are out."

"Wait, so they're not in the house?" Clary asked, pursing her lips thoughtfully.

Simon shook his head, tugging at his tie. "They're busy with their jobs so they don't have enough time to clean up at home."

She stood up and smiled. "When are the interviews?" Her agent reached into his pocket and pulled out a card, copying something from his laptop onto it. After a few moments, he handed it to her and wished her good luck.

Simon Lewis watched as she nearly jumped out of the faire, her curls bouncing with her. He hoped she got the job. She was a special girl. Staring at the open doors, he didn't notice his next client until they tapped his shoulder.

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