Chapter Text
Sometimes, Magnus thought, being a warlock, having magic, was a truly dreadful thing.
Today was one of those days.
Being woken up by fire message at the ungodly hour of six in the morning, who is up that early anyway, was not on his yes I do very much enyoj being a powerful warlock list.
The fire message fluttered around his head and just as he decided to send it to oblivion it gently landed on the bed accompanied by purring sounds.
Oh, for Edom sake, not again, Magnus thought as he pushed his head into the pillows. Clearly message came from the New York Institute.
Few months ago, he received a fire message from the Institute. It came at a decent time of day and was addressed to the Magnus Bane High Warlock of Brooklyn, not warlock Bane.
Huh, as if that could fool anyone.
When he read the message, a few hours later, what, Maryse Lightwood can wait and if something important was happening it would have already been heard through the Downworld, he discovered that he was asked to set the date and time that would suit him to come to the institute to check the state of the wards.
It was signed by Alexander Lightwood, Head of the Institute.
Great another Lightwood spawn.
Rumors of a possible change in leadership at the local Institute have been circulating the Downworld for some time as well as the faint hopes that the next Head will be someone other than Lightwood. Apparently, and not surprisingly, this was not the case.
So what if his name and title were properly used and he couldn't find a single word that would reveal even the hidden disdein, it came from a Shadowhunter and a Lightwood.
Diplomacy can be learned and paper can handle anything. Magnus knew that this new Head of the Institute would show his true colors as soon as Magnus would set foot in the Institute.
Probably before, the moment he saw him, and Magnus was fully set on showing his true colors and all his glittery glory.
If he will respond at all.
Of course he won't.
However, curiosity prevailed as well as the need to show that he could not be intimidated by any Lightwood. And even if he was not particularly fond of the self righteous Shadowhunter bunch he wouldn't deliberately leave others lives at harm. After all, his wards were protecting the Institute.
On the day of the meeting, Magnus got dressed in the tightest pair of black pants, a bright red waistcoat, no shirt, a burgundy jacket, and studded heeled boots. Several gold, black and red necklaces hung around his neck, nails painted black and a ring on each finger. Black eyeliner, red lipstick, gold highlights to his hair and he used so much gold glitter that it will take those pesky shadowhunters at least a week to clean up the last traces of it.
He was determined to leave a statement in every possible way.
As he portaled in front of the institute the first thing he saw was a Shadowhunter standing at the gate in the parade rest.
Well, Magnus thought, quickly assessing the tousled dark hair, broad shoulders and long legs, at least the sight of his chaperone would be worth what would no doubt be an uneasy occasion.
Steeling himself and checking if his magic was on high alert, of course it was, Magnus's magic hadn't failed him in centuries, he began to approach the building with measured steps.
For a brief moment, images of an all-consuming fire and a terrified boy flashed through his mind, but he quickly pushed them away, now was not the time to reminisce old painful memories.
Shadowhunter noticed his arrival, straightened up and crossed the few stairs towards Magnus in a couple of long, strong steps.
Wonderfull, now he will be cross-examined in the street. Magnus rolled his eyes, internally.
Fully prepared for a biting remark and a scornful look, Magnus was surprised when the Shadowhunter stopped in front of him, gave a short nod, and held out his hand for a handshake.
"High Warlock Bane", he said, "I apologize for not contacting you sooner, great oversight on my part. I hope that this will not affect the possibility of our future cooperation."
Stunned and as if on autopilot, Magnus returned the handshake, wondering who the man was and if this was some kind of a setup.
But when he glanced at his eyes, he found only sincerity in them.
Shadowhunter continued to speak, and for a second, Magnus lost himself in the beautiful hazel eyes and the feeling of warmth that began to spread through him from firm but gentle grip of his hand.
Even his magic gave a low hum and started wrapping itself around their joined hands.
Then the words registered and reality came back.
"My name is Alec Lightwood, the new Head of the Institute."
Maryse and Robert's brat.
Magnus withdrew his hand and watched in confusion as the threads of magic continued to wrap around the Shadowhunter's arm, over his shoulder and towards the deflect rune on his neck.
Checking to see if the Shadowhunter noticed anything, thanks Edom, he didn't, with a quick flick of his index finger he dispelled the remains of magic which was accompanied by the sound of a low soft whine.
What was happening, today of all days, with his magic.
He didn't need charges of an attempted assault on a Shadowhunter and the Institute head of all people.
He doubted that any Shadowhunter would believe that his magic had decided to act on its own without his knowledge or approval.
This happened to young warlocks when their magic first manifested and when they were learning to control it, not to centuries old warlocks like him.
And the Clave had no hearing for such cases either, too many warlock children were prosecuted for outbursts of uncontrolled magic. To them, it was only a stronger proof that Downworlders were lesser beings, controlled solely by their impulses, and that they should be kept on a tight leash.
This was one of the reasons why the Warlock Council, including Magnus, developed various techniques to quickly find such children and take them to the safety of the Spiral Labyrinth or countless sanctuaries around the world until they mastered how to safely wield their magic.
Seemingly unaware of Magnus' inner turmoil Lightwood escorted him into the building, again confusing Magnus by stating that the alarm would not respond to his presence, as they already keyed him into the wards.
And Magnus was so looking forward to blaring of the alarms when entering the building. The announcement of his arrival.
He was robbed of his grand entrance!
What followed was torture, just not the kind Magnus had first expected.
Lightwood led him to the institute's core, apologizing once again for not contacting him sooner and for the state of the wards as the previous Heads had not cared for regular maintenance.
He also asked if he could watch Magnus work and after Magnus' bewildered look, ducked his head, blushed slightly and mumbled how he always wanted to meet and see in action the person responsible for creation of a portal.
Magnus graciously allowed him to stay. Lightwood was clearly lying, as if he, or any warlock or Downworlders in general, would be allowed to stay alone in the Institute's premises let alone at its core.
By the time he finished, Magnus was exhausted.
He always enjoyed recalibrating the wards, dipping his magic into angelic core and playing with it, loved the way his and the core's magic interacted, like meeting a dear friend after a long separation, a warm embrace, slow ancient dance of colors and shapes, accompanied by gentle soothing sounds, a balm for his soul.
This time his magic had other ideas.
It took an embarrassing amount of time to channel all his magic to the task at hand, because every now and then little tendrils of it would slowly find their way to the Shadowhunter and tried to wrap themselves around him.
And did it purr?!
Returning to the loft, Magnus collapsed into bed, determined to forget the events of the day. All he needed was a good night's sleep, tomorrow everything would be back to normal.
It did.
At first.