Disclaimer: I don't own the Mortal Instruments

Chapter 2

~Two Years Earlier~

The sharpened pencil just didn't fit right into Clary's sweating hand. It poked out at her in weird angles. She'd already spent the better part of her spring break watching Netflix. Now it was time to force herself to sit in front of her blank sketch pad and try desperately to find an inspirational idea for her project, she had no time left to procrastinate.

Not that it ever stopped her before. It was a very serious assignment for her advanced art course. Her instructor, Miss Fairchild, was an infamous painter. Her works, from simple family portraits to deliberately messy wood carvings, were on display in major museums all over the world. It wasn't the art that gave her the reputation, it was her temper. If Clary could impress or even get her to notice her art it would be an amazing opportunity. It could even lead to an internship with The Metropolitan Museum of Art, where Miss Fairchild was the director.

Jocelyn, Clary's mother, was an artist herself but she only sold the occasional painting to a private buyer. Luke, Clary's step father, was the main provider of the Fray clan. He owned six book stores in and around New York. Clary actually worked in one during the summer and weekends. Organising books wasn't the most exciting field of work but it kept her busy between projects. Right now she wished she was dusting the old shelves instead of racking her brain for the smallest piece of creativity.

Clary gazed around her room hopelessly searching for any sign of inspiration. Her favorite painting was hanging loosely on the seashell walls. It was a clear blue sky with fluffy white clouds. An olive skinned angel lay embedded by a silver sword. It seemed like Clary had more imagination when she had been sixteen. What she wouldn't give for a time machine.

Clary's nineteenth birthday was Saturday and her best friend, Simon, would be coming to marathon Lord of the Rings with her. Simon Lewis was a scrawny boy with hair that reminded Clary of overcooked spaghetti and thick glasses covering his beady eyes.

Puffing out hot air Clary rolled back on the wheely chair, hitting the edge of the desk. The floor was carpeted and the chair stopped suddenly, throwing Clary back onto the fuzzy, blue blanket. The ceiling was coated in midnight blue sky and brightly painted white stars. Clary had painted her version of a starry night when she was fifteen, looking back she remembered her insomnia and wished she could roll back into a peaceful artistic kick. It's not like Clary meant to wait until the last possible moment to start her project, her boyfriend always hogged her time. The most amazing boyfriend in the world, the one, the only, Netflix. Clary was certain she would die alone. Or at least forget to eat and drink for two weeks because of a new show.

She had decided to sleep off her artist's block when the soft footsteps of her parents echoed up to her from downstairs. Their muffled voices coming through the thin floor. Clary picked up her name in the twists and turns of their conversation. She leaned further to the door, trying to conjure out her inner ninja skills. Maybe she could overhear what they were planning for her birthday. Hopeful the words 'Orlando Bloom' would occur anywhere in the conversation.

"...Pick it up tomorrow...Clary doesn't know…Simon can keep it a secret, right?" This was a curious conversation that lit Clary's interest like a pipe bomb. Simon couldn't keep a secret from her even if the secret was Russia's nuclear codes. Sometimes Clary considered using her special truth conjuring gifts for world domination but then she thinks it would be better if she used it for selfish purposes. Although world domination would be very selfish indeed.

Her mother's melodic voice rings up the stairs and through the hollow walls. Clary could hear her heels clicking gently against the kitchen tiles. She could picture her mother's slim form opening the refrigerator and balancing several plates of cold food on her thin, paint covered fingers.

"You can come down now, Clary, we're done." Luke calls from the bottom of the stairs.

Well, dammit.

Clary stood from her perch from her stealthy hiding spot. Gently cracking the door open Clary glanced around the perimeter. She spotted Luke looking up at her from the bottom of the stairs. Giving up trying to hide, Clary began walking slowly towards his towering form. Nearing him enough to be able to smell his weird man stench, Clary wrinkled her nose.

Luke's lemony breath danced along her brows as he stared down at her, amusement creeping into his features. He slowly reached up to her and patted her head slowly. Clary frowned at him, he pulled his mouth into a tight line. He was thinking. Clary tried to pull away when the realization hit her when suddenly Luke pulled her to him in a taut hug and began moving his fingers at her sides. Clary squirmed against him trying to contain her laughter. Clary was in the middle of clawing her way out of the mortals torture when her mother's voice broke both of them from their mystical world.

"Clary can you go change? We have to meet some family friends for dinner and I don't want you looking like you just crawled out of bed." Tomorrow was her birthday and she had a project due on Monday, a project she hadn't started yet. What could possibly be more important than her attempts at art?

"But I did just crawl out of bed." Jocelyn rose her eyebrows and crossed her arms across her chest. Jocelyn was dressed in a midnight blue chiffon dress that dropped down to below her knees. "Okay, I'll go change. Can I knows who's coming?"

Because she could bet her favorite sketchbook that they were some rich family who were interested in buying art, or at least discussing it.

"You're not privy to that information." Her mother was affectionately teasing her and Clary felt a smile tug at the corners of her mouth. Faking a pout, she stomped merrily up the stairs, she heard Luke chuckle behind her. Clary could picture him shaking his head, grey tendrils of hair dropping around his storming blue eyes until he pushed them aside.

Clary waited to get to her room before finally allowing herself a soft laugh on behalf of Luke and her mother. The fuzzy carpet dug into her toes. Thrashing around her clothes Clary grunt. She didn't own anything glamorous or even remotely 'dinner-with-unknown-people-fancy'. She hadn't even bothered to wear a dress to prom, which would have looked weird if she had gone. Simon and her had decided it would be better to just stay home, curled underneath the warm blankets and watch the original Star Wars. None of that new episode bullshit. They made Darth Vader look like a pansy.

There was her awesome collection of Marvel apparel, mostly Captain America and Thor, those two are scrumptious. Yes, Clary just used the word 'scrumptious'. Besides her drool-worthy Marvel tees, the most popular items in her closet were her worn in anime t-shirts, she doubted that would impress their guests. Even if Natsu and Gray would be really hot if they weren't animated. Her uncountable pairs of skinny jeans and larger than life sweatshirts that she stole from her brother wouldn't do her any favours either. The only thing she owned that showed her papery white legs and small amount of curves was an above the knee, black silk dress. It was sleeveless with an excruciatingly large white bow at the base of the back. Jocelyn had bought it for her seventeenth birthday and lucky for Clary, she hadn't grown much since.

She tried to recall if she had shaved in the past seven years but came up empty.

The dress reached a bit higher than her knees now but Clary could deal. Slowly slipping on the dress, Clary found a pair of shoes that weren't converse. Miracle. Platform heels with a silver plate around the toes. Clary straightened her hair and curled a few strands, the effect was a natural 'I-just-woke-up' look. She wished she actually woke up like that.

She applied a thin coat of eyeliner and a light amount of foundation, Clary thought she was done. Looking at her reflection Clary considered changing into jeans. Her mother could deal with that, right? Was it worth the risk?

When Clary turned to unzip the dress her mother called her down to leave. Why couldn't they sit down and order a pizza like normal people who wanted to spend time with 'old family friends' did? Clary would have been happier if her mother had just cooked, then she wouldn't have had to put shoes on or this stupid dress. Her problem was with the latter. The former also caused a problem for her feet.

Clothes were so unnatural. Humans were designed to have one skin! Clothes were like a bottle you were being packaged in for transportation to the Enchanted Forest of clothed nightmares. At least the mermaids don't have to wear to demented things. Even though Clary was wearing the dress she would prefer to be at home, netflix marathoning any anime worth her time. Ever since they began making animes where the girl characters brains were smaller than their boobs they just weren't as good. Damn people with their social expectations and interactions.

The drive over was quiet, Clary sat in the backseat, humming along to the radio.

When they arrived at the restaurant Clary was practically blinded by the amount of crystal around the spacious room. A grand chandelier hung from the high ceiling. The breath was knocked out of her. Every surface in the room was coated in rich mahogany, roses were engraved in the ends of the sets of silverware. The chairs were padded with deep velvet. Clary felt intimidated by the sheer view of the place.

A waiter had quickly sat them down after her mother had given their names. Clary knew it was probably because of whoever else was coming but she felt slightly more important in this moment.

When the four figures walked through the doors Clary realized why they couldn't just order a pizza. The family they were meeting for dinner was the world famous Lightwoods. Alexander, Isabelle and their parents, Robert and Maryse. The tabloids had mentioned two more brothers, who Clary was very familiar with. A little too familiar for comfort actually.

There was Max, child prodigy, his artworks are in museums all over the country and wrote symphonies in his sleep. Then there was Jace, every human beings wet dream, he's starred in several movies and is currently cast as the lead in a new tv show.

The whole premises of the show was paranormal and supernatural. It took place in historic England. Where a group of demon hunting, angel-human hybrids called Shadowhunters protect the world from vampires, demons, and anything dangerous out in the dark. Jace Lightwood played this badass Shadowhunter named William Herondale and Jordan Kyle plays his best friend, James Carstairs. Teresa Palmer plays Teresa Grey. Which is just a funny coincidence. Clary had seen a few previews, it wasn't looking half bad. By half bad she meant completely amazing. The actors were all talented and from what she could see were incredibly attractive. Currently she's dying while waiting for season 1 to start airing in September. Six months, that was all. Even though rumors had it that filming was being backed up.

It wasn't like the other Lightwood children were any less famous or successful, Isabelle was a international model and singer. Alexander was, admittedly, not as popular. He was taking over his dad's law firm after he retired.

Mr. Lightwood is one of New York's top lawyers, his firm is worth over sixty million dollars. You can say Alexander drew the short straw in the family but hey, at least he has job stability. While Clary is rehashing all the things the Lightwoods do when all she does is paint in her bedroom. Max was thirteen and he was already a world phenomenal. Isabelle was Clary's age, Alec was two years older and Jace was a year older than her. These people were ridiculously talented and she was still trying to get her professor to notice her.

The world could be a cruel place.

Isabelle was just as gorgeous as she was on magazine covers, more actually. Long, free flowing hair the color of desert night. Clary could swear she spotted the abyss between her layers. There are some websites that say she has photoshop done to look that amazing but they have it all wrong. If any photoshop is done, it's to make her seem more human rather than the angelic beauty that is standing before Clary. She has on a plain black dress that reaches mid thigh and simple makeup around her onyx colored eyes. Clary felt jealous, it took her an hour every morning to tame her hair, let alone do anything so flawless to the rest of her ogre looking face.

Alexander Gideon Lightwood was just as breathtaking as his sister. Hair the color of a black hole, it was like the light was being sucked in through every strand. His eyes were an electric blue. Like the deepest sea in a storm. Clary felt her breath hitch by the sheer sight of him but thankfully no one noticed. Alexander, or Alec as he prefered to be called, should have gone into the modeling business like his sister and half brother. Jace had done a few campaigns for men's colognes and advertisement for the Infernal Devices.

Even their parents looked picture ready. Maryse had had four kids and she didn't have a single wrinkle or stretch mark to show for it. Roberts hair was slightly greying in places but he made it look sophisticated and natural. What the hell do these people eat?

The rest of the night was spent in a pleasant atmosphere. Small talk was exchanged between the company that had gathered at their table and Clary found herself paying special attention to a certain raven haired man at the table. Isabelle was currently talking about her time in Paris, or how she said it Pari.

"The view was absolutely magnificent and the people! Oh, the people!" Isabelle, or Izzy, gushed while sipping her water at some point during the night. "I wish I could have spent more time among the local people, the stories they could tell!"

Clary would give her first born just so she could even get a glance at the Paris skyline in person. Alec and Clary were casting flirting glances at each other across the dark table. He had beautiful eyes and that was not a word Clary usually associated with men.

Alec was playing with his teal tie, he looked uncomfortable in it but devilishly handsome. Izzy, Clary, and Alec were getting tired of their parents comparing the metaphorical question of who's bigger. Clary honestly thought her mother was out of her element, half of one of Maryse's kids could wipe the floor with Clary.

"Isabelle was on the cover of Vogue, twice," Maryse was saying over her wine glass. Izzy flushed at that. Clary saw her mother nod politely but she could tell there was a childhood rivalry between the two older woman and Clary, for one, didn't feel like being involved.

"I opened an art gallery a little while back but I don't remember seeing you there, Maryse." Yeah, mom, a little while back when I was twelve.

"Yes, I'm sorry about that, Robert and I were in Italy for a conference after my clothing line took off there."

After they have hear enough, the three of them excused themselves early and left their parents to discuss old times. Something told Clary she wouldn't want to hear the 'Luke-had-an-afro-story' although it would be awesome blackmail material.

"I feel like ice cream." Izzy muttered once they had exited the dining hall. Clary was having a craving for chocolate mint too. Alec reluctantly agreed and Clary caught Izzy suggestively wiggling her eyebrows at him when she thought Clary couldn't see.

They walked the distance between the restaurant and an ice cream cart Izzy had apparently seen on their drive over. What caught Clary's attention was how many people seemed to not be gawking at the teenagers dressed for a galla.

They waited in line for a few moments before they finally made their way to the front. The looks from the other pedestrians and the ice cream guy gave them when he saw their formal clothing was priceless. Maybe she'd thought too soon on the normality angle. They made light conversation while walking around Central Park. Fairy lights were hanging loosely from branches.

For just a moment they were normal. Which surprised Clary, celebrities were always meant to be other worldly but Isabelle had the same problems she did.

"There's this guy at work, he's a model too. When we talk he's really sweet and kind to me but when the other, curvier, models show up he acts like every other guy and doesn't look at me twice." Isabelle wailed liked knowing Izzy, with all her beauty, could have the same problems as her although in Clary's case that problem was Isabelles brother so she doubted it was the exact same feeling.

"Sorry to break it to you, sis, but every guy is like that." Izzy looked over Clary and made eye contact with her brother before jerking her head slightly towards Clary, a signal Clary pretended not to notice.

"You aren't like that. You don't think so, right, Clary?" An evil glint had taken refuge behind Isabelle's eyes.

"I-uh, I s-suppose." Alec looked disappointed and ducked his head. "I mean I don't know you very well so I can't judge." She amended hastily.

It was midnight by the time Clary began to feel tired.

"I'm so tired." Izzy vocalized quieter than she had been the entire evening. "If I have to cover up dark circles under my eyes tomorrow morning, I'm blaming you Clary Fray." Isabelle was yawning and stumbling on her heels. Izzy was using Alec as a cane to walk. Clary felt disappointed, mainly because that would mean Izzy would be taking Alec away too.

Izzy called a cab. The three of them sat on the curb until Clary spotted the yellow rusting metal of a taxi. When Alec opened the door for Izzy, Clary was hit with wave after wave of the worst smells known to mankind. It smelled like leather and spoiled plant fertilizer. Can fertilizer even spoil?

Isabelle scrunched up her nose but climbed into the cab and motioned for Alec to follow. Clary felt a little tug at her heart strings when he neared the pleather back seat. He leaned over and Clary could hear hushed whispers pass between the gorgeous siblings. She waited a couple more seconds when she was sure Alec had gotten in the back of the car then turned on the balls of her feet and walked in the general direction of her dwelling.

She wondered how long it would take to get home like this. It had taken tenish minutes to get here with a car. Maybe her parents were still there?

Clary was half way across the park when suddenly there was a rush of footsteps behind her. Clary turned abruptly and there was Alec, heading right for her and the cab Isabelle had called was on it's way to the Lightwood home.

"Trying to get away?" Alec slowed to a halt and crossed his arms over his chest. A chest that Clary desperately wanted to cling on to and never let go. That sounded creepy especially in her head. Maybe she should get home before she actually tried anything and made a total idiot of herself. Then again she could live a little.

"Wouldn't dream of it." Clary smiled sheepishly as Alec grabbed on to her hand. Little blossoms of electricity exploded in her hand. The wind picked up and she snuggled closer to him, Alec didn't seem to mind one bit and that helped her nerves slightly. He insisted on walking her home. Clary was more than happy to oblige his request.

"As first dates go this was not ideal. You met both of my parents and sister, that's at least a month checkpoint." Alec joked. "I hope there will be a second one?" His confidence waivered and she realized that he was probably racking his nerves too. Had this been a date? Clary wasn't hung up on semantics, if he thought it was a date then she did too.

"I think there will be." Alec's hopeful face broke into a grin as he nodded. He kissed her hand as she went inside. Half an hour later Clary's stomach still felt the fluttering of butterflies and her hand was buzzing with the touch of his lips even after an hour long bath. At the end of the night Clary began drawing. She didn't know what she exactly she was drawing but all she knew was that thinking about Alec.

OKAY, OKAY, BEFORE ALL OF YOU COME INTO MY HOUSE WITH TORCHES- I just got a new couch so you mind burning me alive outside?

This doesn't mean the hiatus on this story is over, it just means I'm weak and can't help it when people review. Review=update.

For the record, none of my hiatus stories are on it permanently, I swear, I will finish them all. Even if it kills me. Which it probably will. Or some of you will get too angry to wait anymore and kill me. Either way, look at the top of this note.