A/N: Ahoy! Yes, I'm not going to say anything, just that I'm sorry and that I hope you can forgive me. I love you all, and your continuous support, it keeps me going.

Ah, and there is this last scene... From a certain person's point of view. Hopefully, for those of you who were worried about it, it won't reveal too much. I just needed to write something like that - it was inspired by the latest instalment of The Bane Chronicles, What to Buy the Shadowhunter Who Has Everything (And Who You're Not Officially Dating Anyway). It was just so wonderful. Aaaah.There are also direct quotes from it in this chapter.

Beta'ed, as always, by ChaseThisLightWithMe. Thanks, babe!

It was late in the evening when they parted. They missed dinner, so Magnus decided to return straight to Idris House. They didn't kiss. As a goodbye, they shared an embrace, and there was a sweet kind of innocence in that gesture. Alec buried his face in Magnus' neck; let his lips linger on the soft skin there, and breathed in the familiar scent. He wondered, briefly, when it started to remind him of home.

He felt cold on his solitary walk to the Institute.

He entered the building through the back door – there was no need to wake the servants. As soon as the door closed behind him, he leaned against it. A big whoosh of air left him as his back collided with the wood – it was as if he couldn't breathe properly until now, for his heart continued to beat too fast throughout the day, failing to fill up his lungs. Often around Magnus, his chest felt too tight.

Once, such thoughts would come out as asinine to him, but now it simply caused him to giggle. His hands travelled to his mouth, perhaps to block the embarrassing sounds, but still, he was grinning under the leather of his gloves. He felt light, as if his veins were filled with some sort of gas lighter than air, instead of blood.

Then, in a matter of seconds, it turned to ice. There was a movement to his left, and a figure in white appeared in front of him.

"Isabelle!" he huffed when he recognized the person and she turned out not to be a ghost. "God, you scared me. What are you doing downstairs?"

"I was hungry." Her face was hidden in the shadows.

"Watch it, or soon you won't fit in any of your dresses."

He thought he saw the white of her teeth flashing in a smile. "I'm not going to let myself be provoked by that." He could imagine the fake-angry flip of her hair. "Now. I gather everything went well? Was your night… fruitful?"

"Izzy!" he spluttered. He knew he was blushing furiously.

"Alec."

"I don't—"

Finally, she stepped closer – and he saw her smiling softly. She cupped his face in her hands, and said, "It's alright, brother. You are alright."

(He needed to hear it. And yet –) "Am I? Truly?"

"Of course." Her hands fell to her sides. He tried to smile, faintly, trembling corners of his lips, and she fought down the urge to poke his cheeks with her fingers to keep the smile from slipping, keep it there. But her brother was not a puppet. Instead, she declared, "I'm happy for you."

"I—" He closed his eyes for a brief moment. His eyelids were the palest shade of blue and violet, so fragile. "Thank you," he breathed.

"Are you hungry?" she then asked, a little abruptly. "I could fetch something from the kitchen for you…?"

"Nah." He was trying so hard, and in that, he was so courageous. "I'm just going to go to sleep. You should too. It's late."

Always the protective brother. "Alright." They went upstairs together, the edges of her white nightgown sweeping the ground after him.

They spent a lovely evening with Alec's family – a family that was slowly becoming Magnus' family as well. They had eaten dinner together, with Maryse only coming downstairs to wish them a good meal, and then retiring to her chambers immediately.

After that, they'd moved to the drawing room, where Isabelle and Magnus had given a small concert. Isabelle had played the harp, and Magnus had used the Lightwoods' clavichord. They'd sounded like silver icicles jingling gracefully against each other, yet looked like two suns, with matching smiles brightening their faces. But Magnus had become a little impatient; his sweaty fingers slipping from the keys, his eyes stubborn and preferring to stare at Alec instead of the notes in front of him; Isabelle had noticed, and called it a night. But before she and Jace left, she'd laughed at Magnus and called him 'clumsy'. At which Magnus had retorted, faking furious, "Excuse me, my fingers can do magic!" and that almost made Alec fall off his chair. Isabelle had giggled and practically dashed through the door, claiming that she 'didn't need to hear that!'. Jace had rolled his eyes.

Then there was just the two of them – Alec and Magnus sitting in the emptied drawing room. Christmas decorations were still in place, but they were bruised and battered, and the intense smell had faded almost completely. Regardless, Alec still thought fondly of them when he looked around himself – those were the things that had made him brave enough to kiss Magnus. He could still remember the scent of spruce, intoxicating and pleasant; could still see the way the Christmas candles had illuminated Magnus' face just before Alec kissed him.

But what was the most precious about that memory was the fact that from that evening on, he was allowed more. He could kiss Magnus anytime he wanted (almost anytime), or just as he was now: sprawled on the clavichord bench, with his back to the instrument, and his arms spread along the keys. (The position was a little obscene, and Alec was afraid that Magnus was doing it on purpose – with the way he was smirking right now – knowing what effect it had on Alec.) But he could – and he knew he would – kiss him, capture his lips, sweep his tongue in just the right way, in a way that would cause them both to shiver.

With his eyes hooded, he looked at the man in front of him and gulped – and watched Magnus watching his Adam's apple bob.

Magnus flexed his fingers, as if he was a little anxious, waiting for something, wanting something, and barely keeping it inside. The movement caused the instrument to let out the tiniest, softest of sounds, but it still managed to startle Alec. Magnus squinted his eyes. "What a lovely evening," he purred.

Alec shook his head, because no, he was not going to play that game tonight. He was too hot; the wine – not Magnus – had set his veins on fire.

And Magnus must have noticed the change in him, because next, he asked, his voice a low rumble, "What do you want, Alec?"

There were so many possible answers for that, a disarming I don't know among them, and so many wants and needs, and all of them so true, but Alec chose one, "You."

Magnus' lips stretched slowly into a smile. His arms were wide open, his palms bare and turned upward, inviting. "You already have me, love."

And how perfectly innocent that was, because Alec didn't mean it like that, for once – he hadn't yet taken Magnus, hadn't possessed him, and even though perhaps Magnus' affections belonged to him, it didn't equal his heart and his body.

But he oughtn't think like that. Instead, he did what he wanted badly, and what he knew he could have. He strode across the room to where Magnus was seated, having cast a glance over his shoulder to ensure that the door was shut, and stopped in front of the man, framed by his long legs.

He watched Magnus take a shaky breath, fighting against wanting to regain some of his personal space, maybe to adjust his open position to something at least a little less vulnerable. But that was Alec in front of him, so he relaxed and looked up at him through his long eyelashes.

Alec cupped his face in his hands and bent down and rested their foreheads together. Even with his eyes closed, he could feel Magnus' smile. "You are insufferable," he murmured, his words brushing against Magnus' mouth.

"Mmm, but you love it."

He opened his eyes. He massaged his thumbs over Magnus' cheekbones and gazed into the golden-green orbs. He was smiling. His eyes hurt from the closeness of the picture and started to water, but he kept looking. "I do," he said and licked his lips, his tongue touching Magnus' bottom lip in the process. "I do love it."

He closed the distance between them, the tiny millimetres separating them erased, and their lips touched. Magnus' lips were soft, his eyelashes on Alec's cheeks were soft and tickled, and his gasp when Alec deepened the kiss was soft as well. Without breaking the kiss, Alec moved to crouch between Magnus legs, resting his palms on Magnus' thighs for balance. Now Magnus was the one hovering over Alec, and his fingers found his chin to keep him in place, and his other hand was in Alec's hair.

They parted after a moment, and Alec's eyes immediately locked on Magnus' lips – shiny, wet and plump. Why had he stopped kissing them anyway?

"Hey," Magnus' voice beckoned him to look away from them, "Are you going to walk me home, mister?"

Alec wrinkled his nose."Stay?" he begged pitifully, though he knew what Magnus' answer would be.

Magnus chuckled. "Nah, I've got work to do tomorrow. You, too. We've been slothful for too long." Yes, Alec had to admit that was true. "Can't stay."

Alec stood up reluctantly, and he didn't notice before that their hands were linked. "All right, get up," he pulled at Magnus hand. "I can't believe you are making me go out there. It's cold. And I'm agreeing to this. What have you done to me?"

Magnus just laughed, and it soothed the bitter feeling that rose in Alec upon having to unlace their fingers before they left the safety of the room.

After a day spent with Alec, Magnus felt light.

Impossibly, blessedly light with happiness, and he could compare it to being filled with tiny bubbles, bubbles in his heart and veins and belly and head, and yes, he never felt the latter – but it did feel like that: mad and indescribable.

His cheeks were rosy – from the chill outside and Alec's goodbye kiss; his hair was mussed – from the wind and Alec's fingers; his heart was beating fast – from the brisk walk and because of Alec.

It'd been a long time since he felt that way. The feeling was not foreign to him, but still – every time – it seemed new and bright and terrifying.

He knew that Ragnor was watching him. He knew that when he entered through the front door, he knew that when he shook off his coat, whistling, took of his boots, smiling. He looked up and there it was – the infamous frown on Ragnor's face.

"Good evening, Ragnor," he said.

And Ragnor sighed, and there was such an enormous amount of helplessness in it. "What on Earth are you doing, Magnus?"

He called him by his name. Just as it used to be. Oh, this was wrong. It brought back memories, and they couldn't afford to look back. "Please, don't…" Magnus said in a hushed voice – a warning.

Ragnor's eyes were searching, looking for something, and they seemed to find it finally, because they turned tender, softer around the edges, and that was something Magnus was not expecting. "I'm just—" Ragnor trailed off, perhaps looking for the right words. The stuttering was not something he tended to do, either. "I'm afraid he's going to break your heart."

Huh. Magnus pondered for a moment. He had been through many heartbreaks before, but he found himself afraid when he thought of Alexander Lightwood breaking his heart. He hummed, "Yes. So am I."

Drop a review if you can - at least to let me know that you're still reading this story! :)

(Side note, for those of you who were, perhaps, wondering: Uni is great! It's a lot of fun, but also means a lot of work. I'm constantly tired, but it's a good tired, satisfying. I'm also really happy that Christmas is so close! I do intend to write constantly during the break, so wish me luck ;)

Also, this is my last day as a teenager ;D I'm turning 20 tomorrow! :O It's time to do something crazy. Hmm... *eats a jar of Nutella* Okay, no, that was too much. I'm just going to, yeah, study a little more. Yay.)

Love you! xx