A/n: Didn't really plan this sequel, but an idea struck, and 4k words later, here we are. Shout-out to Basium for co-writing.

Harry loved reading and he was a huge nerd. I liked that about him most of the time. Key word being "most". Maybe that was why he always had a quote on stand by, as readily as a priest might have words of wisdom from scripture. Harry prescribed to a different kind of scripture, though, so most of his lessons were from Gandalf or Yoda, or more often than not, Peter Parker. He'd always liked Spidey. For other things, there were other quotes, and I remembered just the perfect one to sum up the events that were about to unfold: "No plan survives first contact with the enemy." I think that's how it goes. I'm not sure. Napoleon's supposed to have said it, but I'm not sure about that, either. Anyways… The plan.

I woke up early the next morning and hopped out of bed to face the day and all its possibilities. Dad and Alicia were about to go out for a run, so I tagged along. When you're the fist of God, smiter of evil, cardio is important. Afterwards, we went to a diner and had some breakfast, because even with carbs the Lord giveth and the lord taketh away.

It ended up being a busy day and, as afternoon came along, I sat on my bed, body thrumming with excitement as I went through the plan.

Crystals - check, with the broken one replaced.

Showered - check.

Shaved - Check.

Deodorant - oh, crap. Hang on. One moment, and... - Check.

Outfit that was hot but not slutty - Check

And on it went. You get the point. It was another two hours until I was supposed to go to Harry and I might be going a little bit crazy. I'd gone over the plan in my head about a thousand times already, but with nothing else to do, I did it again.

I'd arrive at Harry's place like last time with the bottle of wine I'd managed to make Thomas buy me, and that I'd since snuck into my backpack with my gear. We'd have a glass… Or two, and then we'd get to it. I'd slip a hand under my skirt and tease him until he couldn't resist joining me and -

The door rattled as someone knocked on it. "Molly. Phone call."

I flinched as the noise shook me out of my daydream, and realized my hands had dropped down between my legs and that I was rubbing myself through my skirt. Not only that, but my trip to dreamland had left my wet. Like, really, really wet. Sheesh. I shook my head in hopes of clearing it - failed completely - and quickly made my way downstairs to the phone.

"Hello?"

"Molly," Dresden said, his voice urgent and his breathing quick. "I need you. Can you come to the apartment?"

My heart did a little jump in excitement. He couldn't even wait until the evening for me to come on over? I found myself grinning, and looked over shoulder to make sure mom hadn't used the ninja powers all parents seem to have when their kids are on the phone to sneak up on me.

"Right away, sir," I purred, snapping my hand to my forehead in a crisp salute, then, realising how stupid that looked, awkwardly dropping it again.

I hung up and checked the clock on the wall. Five minutes until the next bus. Dashing up to my room, I collected all of the things I'd meticulously laid out. I stowed them into my backpack and, thinking back on the need in Harry's voice, pulled my panties off and threw them into the hamper.

I arrived at Harry's place about half an hour later and took a moment to myself in the shade outside his apartment door. My hands were trembling and my heart was beating a lot faster than the short walk warranted.

My knuckles had barely touched the steel on my first knock when Harry came through with staff, blasting rod, coat and a bag of supplies slung over one shoulder.

"Oh. Hey, grasshopper." He smiled at me and, be still my ovaries, it looked just a touch shy. "I got a call. Code Gozer. "

I blinked. "What?"

"Ghosts," he clarified. "Maybe. Or maybe it's a racoon. Either way, I thought I'd check it out. The guy sounded terrified."

"Ghosts," I said, dumbly. "Right. That's why you needed me. Of course."

See what I said? Plan, meet the enemy. I'd have to wing it from here.

We hopped into Harry's car, the Blue Beetle, which was too small for me to sit comfortably in, never mind Harry who had most of a foot on me. It worked, though, and that was apparently the most important part.

Harry drove us out of the city and I sat there fidgeting uncomfortably. Excitement coiled low in my belly. Every so often, when Harry changed gear, his warm, scarred knuckles would brush along my bare leg. I shuddered at the light brush of skin, crossing my legs and squeezing my thighs together against the slick heat between them. It didn't help. Honestly, it just made things worse. To make it even worse - because when it rains, it pours (at least in Chicago) we soon turned off the proper roads and onto gravel. With the Beetle's suspensions being what they were, that was… Um, let's go with interesting. By the time we arrived at our destination, an old estate just outside of the city limits, I was starting to feel lightheaded.

We'd stopped by a large old house, with iron fencing in between high posts of stone, all leading up to a large gate. I half-expected thunder to crack in the background accompanied by cheesy, evil laughter. There wasn't. I'm not sure if it was actually comforting or not.

Harry headed over to the little buzzer set into the wall by its iron gates, and pressed its button. He drew a little circle in the gravel with the tip of his boot and then closed the circle. It decreased the odds of him accidentally hexing it. A little.

"Yes?" Answered a wheezy man's voice from the other end.

"My name's Dresden," Harry said. "You called me earlier today about disturbances."

"What?" There was some rustling of papers in the background, and, finally. "Oh. Dresden. Dresden! Yes. I did call you. Come on in!"

There was a screech of poorly maintained hinges and the gate slowly opened up for us, admitting us into the garden. It was overgrown to the point that the big house on the other side was almost hidden until we came up to the door. It was three stories tall, plus an attic, and built of dark brick.

"This isn't the least bit foreboding," Harry muttered to himself.

We walked up to the heavy oak door and he raised the brass knocker, letting it fall with a deep thud.

A giggle bubbled up my throat. "Nice knockers, right?"

Harry cast me his best, most serious look, and sniffed indignantly as if he was insulted by such a low-brow joke. The corner of his mouth twitched, and he turned away from me to start coughing. It didn't do a very good job of covering up his laughter.

He'd only barely gotten his expression straight when the door opened and a man in his early fifties poked his head through. He smiled warmly at us.

"Oh. Hello there. How can I help you?"

Harry hesitated for a moment. "You called me. You were having issues with your house. Something weird, you said."

For a moment, the man's eyes were far away and glazed, as if he wasn't completely sure what Harry was talking about at all. Then he seemed to snap back. "Oh. Yes! Suspicious, indeed. Come on in."

I noted that, though he was dressed in a nice suit, the buttons of his shirt were done up wrong, and he had managed to put on shoes from two different pairs. This smelled a lot more like an early onset of dementia than a haunting, but Harry liked being thorough. We exchanged a look, and followed him inside.

The whole apartment was just… Pandamonium. Books and papers lay scattered everywhere, notes covering the walls with varying regularity to the point that some were almost hidden behind them.

We walked through the kitchen, and though the pipes were rusty, and the clinkers worn, it was clean. There wasn't any rotting food. After a few years of wizardry you learn to look for the positives. For example, a slime golem might ruin your entire outfit, but from that you might learn that your mentor likes short skirts and, probably, your legs in short skirts.

"Mr Bradbury," Harry said when we came to a stop in the man's living room. "What's got you worried?"

"These," the man said, frantically pointing at the notes all around him. It wasn't quite as psychotic here, and the notes didn't cover the wall-paper, but there were easily a hundred of them. "I live here alone, Mr Dresden. I don't have any family coming to visit me. Nobody else has a key… So who's writing these notes?"

Harry frowned. "No neighbours at all?"

"No, no, no. None whatsoever. Old Lisa broke her leg a few months back so she hasn't been around, and Johnny's moved away. Then there's Melanie, who-"

I fought not to roll my eyes. It wouldn't have been professional or polite. Usually, I was better about that kind of stuff, but tonight I really, really needed for things to go faster. If I didn't get to come soon I was going to explode. Harry paced around the room as the man spoke, running a hand along the dust over a stack of note by the large work desk.

"Thank you," he said, his voice curt, but not sharp.

He looked like he wanted to get out of here, too. Was he as excited about this as I was? Had he been laying in bed, picturing the next time, imagining what might happen? I tracked his fingers as they brushed along the desk, and my mind wandered, picturing him pushing all those papers aside, grabbing me by the waist and lifting me up on that desk, taking me as I wrapped my legs around him.

"I can't think of anything else," the old man said, and his voice cut through my temporary lapse in concentration.

Harry nodded thoughtfully. "I'll take a look. Can you give us the room for a few minutes?"

"Ah. Of course. It's so nice to see that couples can work together. I'll be in the kitchen."

Harry flushed. "We're not-"

The older man's eyes widened in shock. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to offend. I misunderstood. I'll let you and your daughter work in peace. Excuse me."

He walked off, moving a little unsteadily as he weaved through piles of books and detritus.

"I think this guy might be a little cuckoo for coco puffs," Harry said under his breath.

"You think?"

He winked. "Still… A professional wizard doesn't just jump to conclusions. He might be crazy. He might not be. Maybe he's crazy because a ghost's tormenting him. Best to have a look around just to be sure."

He dug around in his bag and came out with a heavy, carefully sealed box, handing it over to me.

"Is this lead?" I asked, giving it an experimental bounce in my hand.

"Yes," he hissed, grabbing my hands and the box. "And it's full of depleted uranium dust, so be careful with it."

My eyes widened and I grabbed onto the box with both hands. Oops.

"If you see a ghost," Harry said, "Toss a sprinkle of that on it. It'll bind it."

"Oh- okay."

He dug around his bag, muttering to himself. "I forgot the ghost candles, but this should do."

He gave me a tuning fork and grabbed another for himself, rapped it against nearby bookshelf so that its soft hum filled the room, then peered through the two bars.

"Can we really see ghosts with these?"

He winced. "Probably. Well, you can. Me, I'm not so sure about. Guess we'll see."

And so we began to go through the house, room by room, floor by floor.

"You really know how to show a girl a good time on a night out," I muttered as we finished up the second floor without finding anything.

Harry's eyes widened for a moment, but he recovered quickly. "Oh please. Who else would take you Ghostbusting?"

"It's not ghostbusting without ghosts," I noted.

"You're having fun," he said. "You know it."

I found myself smiling. "Yeah. It just wasn't what I thought we'd do tonight, you know?"

The stair leading to the third floor was narrow and I stepped in ahead of Harry, my chest pressed up against his as I slipped by. It was just a brush and even so, I almost had to bite my lip not to moan from the feel of him. We needed to wrap this up soon before I embarrassed myself somehow. Walking up the steps, with Harry following, I could all imagine just how much thigh I was showing off. I didn't dare to look back and check if he was watching or not., but I wanted him to. I wanted him to start wondering if I was wearing anything under the skirt. Wanted him to push me into a dark corner somewhere out of sight, upstairs, and explore all the possibilities that left open. My heart was pounded hard in my chest and bit down on my bottom lip.

He didn't end up doing any of those things. We cleared the third floor… And the attic, which I'll admit was way creepy, and found nothing. Climbing back down the stairs, I wobbled a little. Was I seriously getting so turned on I was going weak-kneed? Harry eyed me, first with a smile, then with a thoughtful expression.

"Was the stove downstairs a gas stove?"

I thought about it. "Yeah."

"Ah. Shit."

Harry didn't say anything else and hurried downstairs to find Mr Bradbury in the kitchen, slowly chewing on a banana. His eyes darted from the old pipes, to the gas burning stove, and then up, where a carbon monoxide detector was placed.

"Mr Bradbury," he said. "Can you open the windows? All of them."

The older man frowned. "It's cold outside. I don't know if that's such a good-"

"Just trust me," Harry cut in. "Get the door, too, while you're at it, and get out in the fresh air."

The comment was met with a frown, but he did what Harry said. Most people do when there's something weird going on. He can be kinda… Intense.

He grabbed a chair from the kitchen table, a rickety old thing, and set it under the monitor. I put my foot on it… and then hesitated as the wind rustled the fabric of my skirt. Bad idea.

"Why don't you get up. You're taller."

"And heavier," Harry said. "I can catch you if you fall. If I fall, I'll squish you."

I felt my my throat, and my cheeks, and my everything flush with heat.

"Fine." I climbed up to the chair and Harry steadied me with his hands at my waist.

I grabbed the monitor and, as I did, another gust of wind blew in, cool and brisk. Goosebumps erupted along my thighs as my the fabric of my skirt rustled and stirred. Harry's fingers tightened at my waist and I could hear him draw a sharp breath. I cast a nervous look down at him and our eyes met. I forced myself to hold his gaze. Play it cool, Molly, I told myself. Act like this was totally according to plan. The new plan.

His gaze dipped down to my bare thighs and lingered. I could see him swallow thickly and tried for a sultry smile. I think it came off more shy than anything else. His hands were still firmly on my hips, fingers unconsciously running along the fabric of my skirt. I turned up to the monitor and went up on the tips of my toes, twisting it and freeing it from its casing. I wondered how much he'd seen and the thought made even more heat pool between my legs.

Handing the monitor over, I got down on the floor with his helping hand. We were standing close, our toes touching, and I forced myself not to flinch or look away. A tension was building between us. I could feel it thicken and I wanted nothing more than to lean in and kiss him.

"The windows are opened," said a voice behind us. "Is the spirit gone?"

That conniving old cockblock, I thought with a sigh, stepping back and smoothing down my skirt.

"There wasn't any spirit," Harry said. "Get new batteries for this and get someone over here to check the pipes for you."

He threw the carbon monoxide detector at the guy, and with that, we walked off into the sunset.

Not really, but it sounds cooler like that.

When we got into the car, I sat just a bit too close to the stick and pushed myself a bit further in to "adjust" myself in my seat when Harry's hand touched my hip.

What can I say? The Blue Beetle is too small, and that's in no way my fault.

"I thought we were going to be here for a while." Harry said, interrupting my schemes - I mean, my thoughts. I wanted more contact and I'd be damned if he was going to deny me now, "I rented a hotel room for tonight."

Score!

"Nothing fancy, but there are two beds."

Of which we'd be using one, I thought to myself. Or maybe we'd use one and sleep in the other.

I smiled. "It's okay."

"Alright… I mean, it's kinda early, so I could just drive us home if-"

"No, really - it's okay." I tried not to sound forceful and stuff, but can you blame a girl? I've only got so much patience in me.

"Okay." Was it just me or is he a bit spooked by my reaction? Okay, Molly, reel him back in.

"It'll be fun." It took a bit of time - like, awkward-silent time - to realize how childish that sounded to my ears. Imagine how that sounded to his.

I began to rub my hands up and down along my thighs, as if cold, and the shiver that's entirely unrelated to the temperature seemed to sell it. Maybe a little too well. Harry's eyes drifted down to my thighs, the hemline of my skirt, and then a worried look crossed his face.

"We're almost there, Molly."

This wasn't going well. I nodded, hiding my frustration by looking out the window. We were coming up on a roadside motel, and Harry pulled into its parking lot and stopped us next to an old volvo. I felt my heart beat faster with each step we took. It wasn't the kind of place that had room service or a mini bar, but it worked. Harry had somehow chosen something that was very... him. There were two well-spaced beds, a tv, a bathroom, and that was about it. .

"Dibs on the bed by the window," I said without realizing. "It'll be hot tonight, right?"

I facepalmed hard enough to do Picard proud. Fuck, that had been tacky. I fingered at the straps of my backpack, remembering the crystals that were inside. Harry was watching me with those intense dark eyes from last night, when I…

"I'm ready to try again."

He considered me for a moment, then nodded.

"There's an open enough space here," Harry said, indicating to the floor next to the bathroom. I swallowed as a fluttery sensation settled in my stomach.

"Good."

My voice cracked a bit and I wasn't sure where this nervousness was coming from. I stood there for a moment before dumping the contents of my backpack onto my bed and scurried about the space, rushing to set everything up.

Harry watched me with an expression of mild amusement, and that dark smouldering of desire far back in his eyes.

I took dad's advice in mind when I looked over my containment circle, "Cut once, measure twice." No matter how eager I was to get started, I couldn't take the chance of who knows what happening while I was in the mix of things.

"So far so good, young padawan."

I tried not to blush at the praise like a complete idiot. Tried.

I settled down in the middle of the circle, large enough this time that I'd managed to spread a blanket out under me, and powered it up. Then, looking up at Harry, I drew a finger slowly down along my neck, tracing the slithering design of the tattoo I'd gotten there years ago, my nails dragging along its twists and turns.

Harry's eyes drifted lazily along as my hands made their slow descent, running over the curves of my breasts, squeezing them gently… At first. Just a touch of pain wasn't bad, and I indulged myself for as long as I could stand.

Then I moved on, short, blunt nails scraping along my belly. I'd meant to drag this out, drive Harry crazy before getting to the main event, but I couldn't wait any longer. I pushed my hand up under the skirt, gliding my fingers over my thighs and over my sex, shivering slightly at the ghostly touch.

I swallowed and closed my eyes for a second, pulling myself together. I started tracing myself with the tips of my fingers, drawing my moistness out with warm teasing before reaching in deeper. I bit my lip in an effort to keep myself from moving faster and looked up at Harry.

He licked his lips and I could see the outline of his cock pressing against the fabric of his jeans. He sat with his hands clenched on his thighs, as if he was worried what they might get up to if they weren't. My finger began to trace slow circles around my clit as I struggled to maintain eye contact.

Come on, Dresden.

Join me, won't you?

As if sensing my silent prayer, Harry's eyes drifted closed for a brief moment and then he pressed the palm of his hand down against the bulge of his cock, dragging his fingers along the fabric with a soft hissing sigh slipping past his teeth.

He rubbed himself like that, slowly, pressing down with a couple of fingers along his length, eyes tracing the contours of my body without any shame for the first time.

I swallowed again when I sped up and he followed my example. If anyone were to walk into this, I'm sad to say that I wouldn't have stopped. Hell, I sped up when a pressure began to build at the thought.

When my hips thrust just so, I closed my eyes and my toes began to curl from the effort of lasting. Of course, bodies are traitorous. My eyes snapped open with a gasp and I stared into his when the orgasm hit me like a truck.

Dresden shuddered as he watched me come, his shoulders hunching forward a little as he pressed his hand down hard against his cock. He watched me as I half sat, half lay there on the blanket, a dark amusement touching his features.

"Perfect." He said when my orgasm faded. "None of the crystals broke. Ready for the next step?"

I stared at the bulge for a moment before nodding, "Yeah."

"Good." He got down off the bed and, for a moment, I thought he was about to grab me and throw me onto the bed… Instead, he settled at the foot of the bed, and undid the top button of his jeans. "Well... What're you waiting for?"

I got up on wobbly legs and took my time in stepping over the crystals and heading up onto his bed so that he was at the foot of the bed and I was laying down on my back.

"I'm ready."

I took a deep breath and decided to use my other hand this time.

Harry unzipped his jeans and pulled them down his legs, idly stroking himself through his boxers as he watched me. There's a spot there, at his tip, slick and darkened, and he rubs his thumb in slow circle along it.

I spread my legs, making sure he had a good view of my wetness, of what this exercise was doing to me before my hand descended to my folds.

Harry's eyebrows rose for a moment, and then he followed suit. He pulled his boxers down and and took his cock in one hand, stroking himself slowly and carefully as he watched me.

Amidst the tingles that coursed through my body, I began to work myself at the very tip of my clit.

He kept pace with me, pumping his hand faster down along his length, the tendons in his forearm standing out at the strain. His face was twisted up with effort, his breath coming quickly now.

I wanted more. I wanted him.

My hand kept going and I went lower, bucking ever so slightly as I imagined that that finger was pushing into me was him. I close my eyes for a second, wishing that magic could do something about the space between us and that…

Stop thinking, Molly.

I open my eyes, making eye contact as I moved my hand as fast as I could to keep pace with him. I mewled when I found that delicious spot that always made me finish faster.

"Molly." My name. It's spoken softly, with a touch of desperation, and with a raw, aching need.

Harry's slowed down, touching himself at a slow, measured pace, as if balancing on a tightrope. He's close. He's got to be. He's about to come - for me.

"Harry." I whisper it and buck my hips again at how right it felt to say it.

The itchiness increases and I'm moving with my hand in an effort to come with him.

Of course, that was the stuff of bad pornos, that I totally haven't watched.

It's close, though, and I watched him spill himself all over his hand, slumping over as he does and catching himself on the edge of the bed, and I tumbled over the edge just a moment later.

He was coming out of the bathroom by the time I come to, smelling of cheap soap. He slipped his arms under me, scooped me up, and I turn out to be correct. We do sleep together in the other bed.

Everything absolutely, totally according to plan.