DISCLAIMER: ALL CHARACTERS, THEMES AND SETTINGS USED IN THIS STORY BELONG TO CASSANDRA CLARE, THE TRUE CREATOR AND OWNER OF THE MORTAL INSTRUMENTS AND INFERNAL DEVICES SERIES. I OWN NOTHING THAT YOU RECOGNISE.

Simon didn't really arrive at Magnus Bane's house with any preconceived notions of the so-called "Party of the Year". He supposed if he had given any thought to it, he would have pictured dark rooms, large crowds, and the stink of sweat and booze topping everything up. Not a very attractive prospect for a borderline claustrophobe like himself. However, he had been much more concerned about keeping an eye out for Clary. That's what friends did after all. He was planning to grit his teeth through what was no doubt a host of unpleasant situations in order to make sure his stereotypically impulsive redhead of a best friend didn't get into too much trouble.

Much to his surprise, Bane's party was nothing like he'd imagined. The surprise drew his mind away from Clary for a moment when he entered the first of three so-called party rooms directly from a bright hallway. The room that he was in was considerably darker and it took a moment for his eyes to adjust before he could fully take in the effect of the room. In each corner and strategic alcove of the reasonably large-sized room were old-school lava lamps which gave off dim lighting in a shade of, of all colours, blue. The undulating shadows cast on the wall made it seem like the party guests were all wading through an underwater scene. The mood in the room, Simon noted was undeniably chill and relaxing.

As he turned to survey the room around him, Simon caught sight of a flash of familiar red hair disappearing into the mass of bodies in the room to his left. "Clary," he muttered under his breath as he pushed his way through. Once he was in the second room, he once again forgot what he was actually supposed to be doing at the party i.e. looking for Clary, as he was distracted by the completely different atmosphere. The walls were covered with splashes of colour and it look a closer look to see that they were actually splashes of paint thrown onto canvases which were then hung on the walls. From somewhere close by, there came the sound of classical music and inexplicably, the tinkling of water in a crystal fountain, not that Simon saw a fountain anywhere in the vicinity. The mood in this room was less relaxing than the earlier one, what with the upper class tones showing clearly in the bright glass and crystal decorations. It almost looked like a ballroom straight from a Jane Austen novel.

"Why yes, Mr. Darcy, I'd love to dance," Simon muttered in a sarcastic undertone as he slipped past a couple of upperclassmen. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of Camille Belcourt, the Vampire Queen of Downworld High. She was laughing, her glorious head thrown back and her pearly white teeth gleaming in the light as she listened to what her friends were saying. Simon also saw Alexei de Quincey among her posse of companions, customary haughty look firmly in place as he surveyed the room around him. He caught Simon's eye and curled his lip slightly before turning away and whispering something in the ear of the girl beside him. She too turned her attention on Simon, practically sneering as she gave her reply, leaving no doubt as to whom the pair had decided to insult for their own entertainment.

Shrugging it off, Simon turned and headed into the third party room. This time, occupied as he was by his thoughts, he dimly took note of the rave-like atmosphere in this final red-tinged room. The blood red curtains covering every surface of the walls were almost murder crime scene reminiscent but not quite, drawing out the partygoers' wild side, and providing them with the perfect underground rave mentality. Simon's thoughts however were largely still occupied by a sour note. God, how he hated those Vampires. They thought they were so much better than anybody else. If only the only alternative to them wasn't that pompous Raphael. At this rate, Simon would have been willing to throw his support behind the mundie freshman, Maureen to lead the Vampires, if only she didn't creep him out so much. Honestly, her cutesy behavior and little girl laugh made Simon grit his teeth together and coupled with the way she stared at people like she wanted to literally eat them? She kicked his creeper radar up about a thousand degrees.

Simon's train of thought was interrupted as he crashed into someone. A very attractive someone. The girl in front of him wore her hair loose over her shoulders like a silky black curtain. She was tall, very much so, and slim. Her skin was a creamy pale colour and her eyes-

"Are you done gawking yet?"

Simon jumped at the bored voice that came from the girl. Realising that he was hovering a little too close for comfort, Simon quickly stepped back, narrowly avoiding stepping on the foot of the guy behind him.

The girl, still staring at him, rolled her eyes and muttered under her breath clearly not expecting him to hear, "I thought Downworlders were supposed to be hot bad boys, not nerd patrol."

Usually, Simon would have let that comment go, but his politeness quota was just about shot. After enduring the snobby Vampires and stewing in his residual anger towards Raphael, being called nerd patrol, while not exactly the worst thing he'd ever been called, was the last straw on the proverbial camel's back.

"Well, excuse me Beauty Queen, not all of us were born with pretty faces and perfect grace."

In his anger, what he'd originally meant to be a sarcastic comment came out sounding like a compliment. The steam behind it was undeniable though.

"Dude," muttered a stoned-looking guy as he pushed into Simon's left side, "Freedom to the nerds, man! Here, have a drink."

Simon barely glanced at the pink beverage before tossing it down, in his impulsiveness completely forgetting every after school special he'd ever watched about accepting unidentified drinks from strangers. The beauty queen looked suddenly panicked as she reached for the already empty glass in Simon's hand.

"Whoa, I can't believe you actually drank that! Are you insane?! It was pink!"

Simon blinked at her, not feeling particularly different, "So? Just being a typical daredevil bad boy Downworlder, aren't I? Isn't that what you so stereotypically wished for earlier?"

Beauty Queen's lips twitched, curling up into an amused smile. "That pink beverage you just drank was so obviously spiked. In about twenty minutes, you are going to fall flat on your face, Nerd Boy. What smart retort do you have for that?"

Simon thought he should probably be focusing on something a little more vital like his impending unconsciousness but-. "You have really pretty eyes," he told Beauty Queen. "Really really pretty Beauty Queen," he murmured as he felt his brain sinking into the sludgy realms of the absolutely stoned.

"Angel, you are a lightweight, aren't you, Nerd Boy?" he thought he heard someone mutter into his ear as he was pushed against a support. "Twenty minutes. More like twenty seconds," the same voice scoffed and Simon felt himself being pulled along by someone. Who had he been talking to again?

As the colours around him started to swirl into one gigantic finger-painting, Simon gave up trying to figure out what was going on and just let himself be led by whoever was leading him wherever.