Hey y'all! I'm back! This is a... Jessabriam fic? What's the word for Jem, Tessa, Gabriel, and Will? Anyway, I'm thinking this is right before the DSBS, without the masks. And I think Gabriel's the one in the DSBS, but whatever. The song is "Granger Danger" from A Very Potter Musical. *If you like Harry Potter AT ALL, check it out. It's on YouTube, and it's hilarious. This song is just Ron and Malfoy singing about seeing Hermione at the Yule Ball and falling in love with her.* Review, please!

Disclaimer: I own neither the song, nor the characters, nor Will's quote (thanks to Oscar Wilde).

This was it. It was the night of the Institute's annual Christmas Ball. Will stared at his reflection in the mirror and sighed inwardly. He was supposed to be downstairs by now, but, ever vain about his appearance, he hadn't quite dressed up to his satisfaction yet. His eyes were shadowed, his hair was messy, and his shirt had a crease. I am not going down there until I look perfect, he swore to himself. My looks are intrinsic to my having a good time.

He took one more look at the haughty boy in the mirror and had to laugh. He could only imagine what Jem would think of him, Jem, who didn't care how he looked and cared even less about how other people looked. They had a long conversation about it once. Jem insisted that the personality was all that mattered, whereas Will maintained that your looks gave people a clue about who you were.

I like nothing better than a pretty girl in beautiful clothes, so why should I deny them the same privilege? Will had said.

Jem rolled his eyes. The privilege of looking at you?

Are you doubtful? If I go out looking a mess, I would not attract so many women, I assure you.

Of course you would. Look at yourself. It doesn't matter what you wear, you still have that air of confident superiority and those blue eyes. You're fine, trust me.

Will was forcibly shaken from his reverie with a knock on his door. "Will? Aren't you ready?"

"No."

"Charlotte's going to murder us," the voice belonging to Jem groaned. "Come on, Tessa's already late and Henry has soot on his jacket. Charlotte does not need a reason to be even more upset."

Will glanced in the mirror one more time, shook his hair back and practiced his signature grin before grabbing his jacket and wrenching the door open. "Tessa's late? Why?"

Jem grinned. "I should have known that'd be what got you to leave the room. Come on, I'm not kidding about Charlotte." He turned and headed down the stairs, not looking back to make sure Will was following, but with that unruffled air that suggested he knew that he was.

Luckily, Charlotte was nowhere to be seen, and Will only had time to snatch a flute of champagne from a passing tray before Jem nudged him and pointed back at the stairs.

Here I am, face to face

With a situation I'd never thought I'd ever see.

It was Tessa, descending the stairs with her head ducked, looking very shy and stunningly beautiful. Will always knew she was pretty, if a bit rough around the edges (all Americans were) but seeing her in that dress… She was decked out in blue-grey silk, the exact color of her eyes, and Oh, Angel, she's coming over here. What do I do?

Fortunately Jem was content to think for him. "All right, Will. Relax. Just… breathe. Be your usual self."

"My usual self would proposition her."

Jem shook his head and smiled ruefully. "I was wrong, don't be yourself. Be me."

"So you want me to stand here and awkwardly watch someone else converse with her?"

"You're impossible."

"That's a funny way of pronouncing 'irresistible'," Will said distractedly, craning his neck around George Penhallow to continue watching Tessa. Jem made a noise in the back of his throat, a combination of amusement and irritation. He opened his mouth to speak, but Will gripped his arm and shook his head almost imperceptibly.

Just then, Tessa stopped in front of them and smiled. "Hello, boys."

Strange how a dress

Could take a mess

And make her nothing less

Than beautiful to me.

Jem grinned back. "Hello, Tessa. You look lovely." Will couldn't so anything but nod in agreement. He remembered every way she had ever looked up until this moment, pictures forming and disappearing in his head like a slideshow.

Flash. Tessa as he first saw her, at the Dark Sisters' house. Her hair was a mess, her eyes were hollow, her skin was pale, and she wore than hideous, shapeless black dress. He saw her potential as a beauty and approved of her fire.

Flash. Tessa, the next morning at breakfast. She looked slightly healthier in Jessie's red dress that clung much too closely to her figure– not that Will minded– but her concern about her brother was obvious in the tight set of the muscles around her mouth.

Flash. Tessa, in the attic, right before he kissed her. She looked slight in Camille's dress that was stained with ash, her hands so small in torn, bloody gloves. She was a sight even with anger and confusion on her face.

Flash. Tessa, right now, right in front of him. She looked as perfect, as angelic, as he had ever seen her, in a dress that fit her flawlessly. Her big grey eyes were softly shadowed with long lashes, her lips were full and red, and someone– probably the ever-patient Sophie– had curled her hair and piled it into a knot at the back of her head.

He cleared his throat. "Beautiful," was the only word that escaped his mouth, and it was hoarse and almost unintelligible. Even so, she bit her lip to hide a smile.

Seems like my eyes have been transfigured

Something deep inside has changed

They've been open wide but hold that trigger

Will had never felt like this before. He had always, in the back of his mind, recognized that some girls were beautiful beyond belief– Jessamine, for example, with her thick pale hair and big brown eyes– but he had never felt this crushing sensation in his chest, this rapid beating of his heart, this feeling that breathing was impossible.

He had looked at Tessa a thousand different ways: as a fellow book lover, as a Downworlder, as a young girl, as an American, as innocent, as a fighter, as someone who needed to be protected, as someone who was stronger than he himself… But never before had he seen her as a debutante, a beautiful girl of– his heart stopped in fear– marriageable age.

She could go out and get married if she wanted. She could run, she could escape, she could find a man who could protect her and love her. Don't think about it, he scolded himself. Why would you even…? She can't leave until Mortmain stops looking for her.

This could mean… danger…

I'm falling in love, falling in love, falling in love,

I could be falling in love, falling in love, falling in love

With Hermione Granger.

"I… I'll be right back," Will said hastily, excusing himself with an outraged look from Jem and a raised eyebrow from Tessa. He found a quiet place, a dark corner, where he could lean against the wall and take deep breaths. "Relax, Herondale," he cautioned himself. "You can't be in love with her. It's just a dress. You'll be fine."

A stab of something he didn't recognize in his heart suggested otherwise. He had never been in love before, so perhaps it was natural that he didn't immediately acknowledge its presence.

This is bad, very, very bad, he though, horrified. He had seen men, lots of men, frequenting bars every night because they were trying– and failing– to drink away the pain associated with unrequited or rejected love. He had seen men torn apart, tormented, eaten away with jealousy.

He had been there, in a way. After all, when he lost Cecily, did he not weep? He loved her, in a different way than the way he loved Tessa. Didn't he almost die every time Jem was hurt or got ill? Didn't he drink away the pain when Jem's blood still stained his hands? He loved Jem, of course. He had never loved anyone as much as he loved Jem… Until now.

Love was beautiful. Love caused unbearable pain. Love was dangerous.

What? What the hell is this?

You expect me to sing about her, I don't care about her.

It's just a little make-up, Draco wake up, I'm mistaken.

Across the room from Jem and Tessa, in a different corner than Will, Gabriel Lightwood swallowed his drink in one gulp. He had only ever seen Tessa Gray once, shaking with righteous anger, defending Herondale from his, Gabriel's, onslaught of insults.

She had been pretty then, if not quite to his taste. He preferred his girls elegant and classically beautiful, quiet, the kind of girl who appreciated sophistication and saw him as the paramount epitome of an ideal mate.

Of course, he hadn't found a girl like that yet, except for his sister, and that was incontrovertibly out of the question. This new Tessa Gray, with the curly hair and silk dress, was the closest he had seen to his perfect girl. And he deserved perfection, did he not? He was holding out for perfection because he was worth it.

No, he reprimanded himself sharply. You will not think of her in that way. She defended Herondale, remember? She's no fan of you, and any girl who considers Herondale and Carstairs more suitable companions than you cannot be worth the risk, no matter how… alluring… you find her.

She is the hottest girl I've ever seen now,

Because she's like a girl I've never seen.

Don't know why I'd ever be so mean…

Still… Perhaps she didn't really like Will. Women always think they're in love with a man who saves them from a desperate situation, right? Just as men always think they love the woman who nurses them back to health after a tough battle. Perhaps she'd come to her senses soon enough and realize what a loathsome, detestable worm Will Herondale was.

Gabriel had never, ever had anyone, especially a mere Downworlder girl, yell at him the way Tessa did that afternoon before the Enclave meeting. She implied– or more accurately, described– that he was a miserable excuse for a human being because he cared more about his own personal quarrels than about the Shadowhunters as a whole.

He was ashamed to admit that her passion really– how to put it?– sparked his flame. Lit his fire. Turned him on. Why had he thought poorly of her before? She was a strong girl, standing up for what she believed in, speaking her mind with no thought to the consequences. It was something he'd always wanted to do but never could, because his father would beat him to within an inch of his life. Metaphorically speaking. I think…

This could mean… danger…

I'm falling in love, falling in love, falling in love,

I could be falling in love, falling in love, falling in love

With Hermione Granger.

Benedict sure had a lot of rules for a man who so often broke them. No impertinence. No wantonness. Straighten up and fly right. And, though it was never expressly stated, As a Shadowhunter, you are better than everyone else. Act like it. This last rule Gabriel tried not to abuse. He personally felt he was no better than anyone else (except Herondale), but he did as told and knew he was expected to grow up and marry a Shadowhunter woman, thereby producing pure- blooded Shadowhunter children to carry on the Lightwood line.

Crossing his father and going against this expectation had never crossed Gabriel's mind until this moment. Benedict had had his share of wayward Downworlder women to keep him company at night, but he warned his sons against this sort of behavior. Gideon ignored this and spent more time than anyone– except, again, Will Herondale– but Gabriel detested the thought.

Of course Tessa changed all that in a heartbeat. She was a clever, strong girl who fought off a horde of vampires even without any training. She was the most beautiful girl Gabriel had ever seen, and for a moment he imagined her in a long white dress and veil. Theresa Lightwood.

The thought shattered almost as soon as it appeared. Shadowhunters were forbidden from loving or marrying Downworlders, and warlocks could not bear children. It was a doomed relationship, and that was if she consented to love him! Just because he loved her–

Where did that come from? Do I love her? He did, he decided. He loved Tessa Gray, against all reason.

Why does love have to be so hard?

I want to let her know (I feel so queasy)

But I can't let it show (she'd laugh, "poor Weasley")

Come on, Ron (Draco)

You gotta let it go…

You gotta let it go…

Will slid to the ground, his back against the wall, his hands tangled in his raven-black hair. He couldn't possibly tell Tessa how he felt, could he? No, look at her over there, chatting and laughing with Jem. She was so much finer than he deserved, after everything he'd done. He couldn't bear to hurt her, and he would invariably hurt her again. Each man kills the thing he loves... the coward with a kiss, the brave man with a sword! No, he wouldn't tell her. She'd laugh at him, anyway, and he didn't think he could take that kind of rejection.

Gabriel, in the other corner, was in the same position. He shook for some reason, trembling from head to toe. A strong clench in his stomach made him keel over, gripping his midsection and wincing. The alcohol, he decided, was a terrible idea. He thought it would settle his nerves, but it just made him nauseous. He was what Gideon called a "lightweight", meaning that he couldn't hold his liquor, and his brother was right. Champagne plus a sudden realization of unrequited love equaled sickness.

For two such different young men, they managed to synchronize their thoughts with one phrase: You've got to let it go.

Here I am, face to face, with a situation I'd never thought I'd ever see.

(What the hell is this? I want to sing about her, sing about her.)

Strange how a dress can take a mess

(I want to make up, Granger, wake up! I've been mistaken.)
And make her nothing less than beautiful to me.

(She is the hottest girl I've ever seen, now,)

Seems like my eyes have been transfigured.

(Because she's like a girl I've never seen.)

They've been open wide but hold that trigger.

(Don't know why I'd ever be so mean…)

Tessa bid Jem farewell and looked around the room as the silver-haired Shadowhunter walked off. Gabriel and Will watched as she swayed to the music, closing her eyes and smiling a bit. They both wished it was they who were dancing with her, rather than her dancing a bit all by herself. It only lasted a few seconds before her eyes snapped open as though she had woken up from a dream.

She nabbed a crystal flute of champagne from a passing tray and sipped it delicately. Her eyes darted cat-like around the expanse of the hall, stopping on Will in his corner. She looked taken aback for a moment, blinking rapidly before turning away. Will's heart sank; clearly she didn't want to see him.

Her eyes next fell on Gabriel, still faintly ill, and he too saw her look of shock and bemusement as she wondered why two such eligible Nephilim boys were hiding in two separate corners. Just as he thought he'd go up and talk to her, Jem came back, holding two glasses of champagne. He laughed when he saw Tessa already had a drink, and Gabriel stared moodily at the pair before wishing, for the first time, that he had less morals and could go out and drink until he forgot his own name, let alone hers.

This could mean… danger…

I'm falling in love, falling in love, falling in love,

I think I'm falling in love, falling in love, falling in love

With Hermione Granger, with Hermione Granger, with Hermione Granger.

Will unstuck himself from the wall and stood up, looking around for any available alcohol to drown his sorrows in. He was sure he would be able to win Tessa over eventually, but his chances for this particular evening were looking weaker and weaker by the minute. He wanted to drink just enough to forget his love for Tessa and find another, more immorally-inclined young lady to indulge him in a quick tryst.

Gabriel, on the other hand, also left his corner, but it was to run to the nearest bathroom and start retching. He should have known the alcohol was a bad idea, but once again he overestimated his own abilities. He was sick in the heart and stomach, and soon, the brain. Already his thoughts were fuzzy and disconnected, and he was almost praying for a total blackout, just so he didn't have to think anymore.

Jem whispered something in Tessa's ear, and she nodded curtly, placing her glass on the nearest table and taking his hand as he led her upstairs, to a balcony she hadn't known existed.

Will watched them go with a heaviness in his heart until he had to turn away, only to come face-to-face with the youngest, prettiest– and least detestable– Lightwood daughter. She looked nothing like Tessa, petite with wavy gold hair and big green eyes, but she would have to do. Pausing only to muse about Gabriel's reaction to finding out that Will had seduced his other sister, Will took her by the hand and tried, desperately and unsuccessfully, to forget Tessa Gray once and for all.

Danger!