This is Jace Lightwood/Harry Potter. Yeah, 'cause I felt like doing it.

Disclaimer: The Mortal Instruments books are on my bookshelf, but I did not create them. And the same goes for Harry Potter novels. Anything else that is not mine is not, dig it?

Jace had been with many girls in his teenage lifetime. He'd been with the fae girls, and mundane girls, and werewolf girls, he'd even been with a few others that he had no idea of what they were, only that they were beautiful, cute, or pretty. He liked all of those qualities, but a girl having intelligence or that sarcasm that could keep up—not overstep—with his own was a rare quality to come by.

One thing nobody knew about Jace, one thing he'd kept secret ever since he'd figured it out, was that he didn't only like the girls. Alec, his parabatai, was the only person who knew, though Jace suspected Isabelle knew with the looks she gave him sometimes.

Alec was with Magnus and had been for two and a half years now, still ridiculously in love, and Isabelle and Simon were doing great, but when it came to his own relationships…there were none. He and Clary were done. She left him a long time ago, or at least it felt like it was a long time ago. So, Jace went out and found himself a man, a big strong man who still could hold a somewhat good conversation, and they fucked in the bathroom at the club. Not his best idea, really, but after two more nights—not in a row—of this routine Jace realized he wouldn't ever be good enough for Clary. She deserved better. Because all he did was hurt her, make her cry, and bring back memories of Valentine. Jace knew he couldn't do that to her.

She had broken up with him before he could, of course, because Jace had loved her more than she loved him—as he'd said to her before—and it was easier for her to do than him.

Jace got over it. Jace got over her. He still loved her, just not in the way he used to. He cared for her like a sister, now.

"You want another?"

Jace looked up at the barman. He was a nice guy, always making sure Jace was taken care of. Could be that he was a Shadowhunter, though, and he didn't want any trouble.

"Yeah. Give me two shots of that blue stuff."

He turned in the spinning seat at the bar, glancing at all the bright lights and the creatures and people. This was a good place to get somebody, for the night or life or just to hang out with. All different kinds were here—the horny, the bored, and the lonely.

Then he spotted him. Gorgeous body, long and lean, but short, and strong in a sense that wasn't all muscles, and his stance was that of a confident man. He wore a smile that rivaled his own, but his was more innocent with that hint of danger lifted at the corners. Eyes were green and not to sound romantic or anything but all Jace could think was 'beautiful emerald eyes'. His outfit was simple but suited him, and Jace wanted. He wanted all of that.

So when the man walked up to order a cocktail Jace made him self known. And as he had the voice of an angel, he only said, "Hey."

When the black-haired beauty tilted his head to look, he widened his eyes and pressed his lips together in such an endearing way Jace thought his pants would burst at the seams. "Um. Hey?"

Jace smiled. "You here alone tonight?"

"Yeah."

"Would you like some company?"

Then something changed. The innocent expression and act—was it an act? Or did this guy have two sides?—were gone, and in place of that was a steel-faced gorgeous man.

"Listen, I'm not here for that," he said in a stern voice.

Jace raised a brow. "Wow. Already thinking of me in bed, huh?"

A blush appeared on his face. His head tilted a little, and he almost laughed out, "I've had better looking blondes in my bed."

Jace was insulted, having gotten remarks on his beauty before by many, either in the heat of the moment or on the street walking past. But he just pouted.

"That's hurtful to somebody who you've just met."

With a roll of his eyes, and a tilt of his lips, the man scoffed. "I doubt you're hurt. I'm sure Shadowhunter's are more resilient than that."

"Oh, I am."

Jace was shocked that he knew he was a Shadowhunter. The only reason the man at the bar knew was because he'd come here before in his 'uniform', but now he was in casual clothing. And Jace had never seen him before; if he did then he'd know his name, at least.

So he asked. "How did you know?"

"Please, it's not like you blend in."

Well, that was true, said the cocky side of him. But, thinking on it, with all the different people here, Jace was actually surprised to hear that. Wouldn't he blend in with the great variety of people, with those who had bright colored hair that sparkled as they danced or those who sat in the corner nursing a cup that wore dull clothes like Alec or the few sneaking into booths to fuck that had horns and wings?

The bartender came over with the man's drink. He fished in his pocket for money, handing it to him and then the bartender left to the other side to help a kelpie.

"You didn't, either. Blend in, I mean." If he did, Jace wouldn't have noticed.

That tilt was back on his mouth; Jace wanted to bite at it, and then stick his tongue down his throat and taste him. "Oh? Is that why you're hitting on me? Because I don't fit in?" He grabbed his drink and took a swig.

Jace shook his head, watching his throat as he swallowed. "No, not only. I'm also doing it because you're beautiful."

The man's hand fumbled the cup, and some spilled onto his shirt. Actually, a quarter of it was now on his shirt, and Jace wondered how that happened. Just because he complimented him? Surely he received many, being so fucking hot, and all.

He sighed, setting down the now partly empty cup. "Fuck."

Jace was reaching for a napkin to help clean up the spilled alcohol when he saw a bright glow at the corner of his vision. Sharply turning his head, he watched as a yellow hand—not physically yellow, but surrounded in yellow like a foggy glove—waved over the blotch of alcohol and mixer staining his clothes, and then it was gone and so was the stain.

Jace gapped. Not once did he think that this guy was a warlock.

"I feel like you're not the type to be easily shocked, so I'll revel in this moment."

Jace closed his mouth. "I'll admit: you don't look like a warlock to me."

"I'm not, that's why."

Jace understood then. "A wizard, huh?" Not a lot could do wand-less magic anymore, he was impressed.

The wizard took a sip of his drink. "Did you think I was mundane? If so, I'm really insulted."

"Then we're even."

He sputtered. His eyes were bright with humor when he said, "Even? For what?" And Jace knew that he knew.

"For earlier. The insult on my beauty."

"Hm. Seeing as you admitted to your stupidity—"

"Woah, uncalled for," Jace laughed.

"—I'll admit that out of all the blondes I've had, none of them were a good-looking as you."

"Of course they weren't."

He laughed. A bright, loud laugh that gave Jace chills. It would make even the most unhappy person smile.

"You're certainly a cocky asshole, aren't you?"

"I take pride in my cockiness. But rather than saying cocky, I'd prefer the word 'confident'. Cocky implies I'm insecure or that people don't like me, and everybody loves me."

Another loud laugh erupts from his mouth, this one reaching his eyes so they crinkle the skin at the corners of his emerald orbs. Jace couldn't imagine doing anything else but kissing every part of this man, and ravaging, and leaving marks all over. His neck would have purple bruises and teeth imprints from biting too hard. His lips would be sore and puffy because Jace couldn't help himself. And his nose, so cute, would be kissed several times, and then his ears nibbled on like dessert. Then he would move lower, and start sucking and biting his nipples so they would be seen through his shirt the next day. And angel, his ass—

There were several snaps in his face. "You've gone silent. I expect at least one more comment about my beauty before you start staring at my body like a starving man."

Jace smiled wide. "How about a name first?"

He blinked twice, taken aback. "Oh. Uh… Tell me yours first." He took another sip of his drink.

Jace got the feeling he didn't want to divulge his name. It must be big then, or he just didn't want Jace stalking him. Not that Jace ever did—okay, once, but that was months ago and he completely blew Jace off and he had to know why. Perfectly reasonable.

"Jace Lightwood." He wasn't by blood a Lightwood, but he was in his heart, and that was his name no matter what anyone else said.

There was recognition in the wizard's face, but he said nothing. Jace was famous, after defeating Valentine with everyone else years ago.

However, when he said his name Jace knew that fame was nothing.

"Harry…Potter."

Jace didn't move. The Harry Potter?

He saw the fright in Harry's stance, and in the way he gripped his glass. His teeth were gritted together so hard Jace wondered if he was going to break one.

He probably hated the fame. After so many years of it, Jace understood. He was famous too, but not Harry Potterfamous. That war was a significant part of the magical world's history and here sat the main figure in the long battle, the hero of Hogwarts, the boy who lived, right before Jace's eyes looking so grand and beautiful and shy. He didn't say anything even though he really, desperately wanted to, because that fear of the fame was so clear on Harry's face he didn't want it to get any deeper. He wanted to make him smile and laugh like he was a minute ago, just looking like Harry should look.

Jace held out his hand, and Harry jumped at the movement. "Well, Harry, why don't we go and have a dance?" He gestured his head toward the floor filled with sweaty bodies, some crammed together and others in their own space.

Harry flushed a bit, head down. "I can't dance."

Jace gave an encouraging smile. "Anybody can dance; you just need the right partner." He winked. "Come on, let's have some fun."

Harry took his hand and Jace's smile turned into a grin. Harry's hand was warm, big but fit into his nice and right. He started leading them away from the bar, which was relatively quiet compared to the section of loud music and humping bodies.

Harry's voice was right in his ear; he was only an inch or two shorter than Jace so he must be leaning up. "I trust you to catch me if I fall, Shadowhunter."

Jace shot back. "I've got good reflexes."

Harry laughed again, and Jace felt better knowing he wasn't sad or afraid.

Shoving his way through the crowd, despite the growls from others, to find a good place for his shy dance partner to feel comfortable, Jace dragged Harry behind him like a doll. A heavy, good beat thumped through the speakers and his body like pulsating fire. His skin tingled all over, but mostly where he and Harry connected. Maybe it was the magic he possessed—or the magic leaking in the air from every Downworlder—but Jace had never felt such a rush of heat from just holding somebodies hand. And he'd had sex with at least two warlocks—or was it three and a half?

He stopped. This was good enough. Only a couple mundies, one lonely drunk purple fairy, and a few werewolves' that would keep to their selves were nearby, so he deemed it safe. Safe to have Harry all to himself, that is. He was sure that Harry Potter could handle his own safety just fine.

"Jace."

He turned, grinning at Harry who was biting his lip—he would do that for him, if Harry wanted. "What is it?"

Harry made a noise like a plea, and Jace took that as his chance to pull Harry close so he fell on him. Their chests pressed together and Harry's gasp echoed in his ears.

"Jerk." Harry pressed his hands on Jace's chest, and he moved one hand that was around Harry's back to grab hold of one, keeping his over his heart. "What're you—"

"Shh. Just close your eyes." He followed his own words, not seeing if Harry did.

There was a lot of noise around them, obviously. Jace had ears that could hear anything, even a fly buzzing on the other end of this dance floor, but all he wanted Harry to do was listen to the soft beat-beating of the music, and feel the sway of his hips. He could feel Harry's shape, his lean, powerful shape against his own. The hairs on his arm stood up at the mental image of Harry's nude body sprawled on his bed, or any bed.

The music slowed down then, but still there was that background that gave him a surge of energy starting in the pit of his stomach. He hoped Harry could feel this.

What did he look like? Jace suddenly pondered.

He opened his eyes to see, and felt them burn with lust. Delectable, desirable, sexy, all of these described Harry. He stuttered before just letting out a 'fuck' and moaned outright, not a care as he rocked his hips a little harder, and Harry shot his eyes open. They glowed under the lights. His mouth was wet from his tongue sliding across his lips.

Jace thought Harry didn't like that, maybe he was too rough, because he just stood there looking dumfounded and glorious, so he stopped and just went back to swaying his hips. He wanted more, but Jace didn't want Harry to not enjoy himself.

"Jace," Harry gasped. His hand, still resting on Jace's shirt over his heart with his own atop it, moved, releasing Jace's, to wrap around his neck and tug him down so Harry's breath fanned over his face. He smelled sweet. "Don't stop…what you're doing."

Jace smirked. He slid his hands down to cup his hips, tugging the wizard until they barely touched down below, and Harry titled his head back and swayed his hips in rhythm to Jace's.

"See, dancing isn't that difficult."

Harry let out a soft chuckle. "I suppose it isn't."

"With the right partner, of course."

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-Eve