"I don't trust them."
Marcone glanced at his employed wizard, watching as the man twirled his wand between his fingers in the only betrayal of his agitation before an otherwise calm appearance.
"Their words do make an unfortunate amount of sense," Marcone noted.
Harry stamped his feet to ward off the cold night air. "I still don't trust them. They feel like scavengers."
Marcone, Harry and Hendricks were arrayed before the front door of the luxurious estate that the crime boss called home, all of them keeping one eye on the group of FBI agents that were talking softly together some distance away.
"Feel like scavengers?" Hendricks asked idly as he checked his weapon, a sleek automatic rifle. He didn't much care for the boss' newest employee, save that he could pull his weight.
"Just a bit of gut instinct," Harry replied, frowning at the agents.
"As the evidence currently disagrees with your stomach, we shall assume that they are being truthful," Marcone stated as he attached a magazine full of tranquillisers to his hunting rifle.
"Doesn't really feel like Dresden," Harry continued arguing, his heart not really in it. "Helping a pack of werewolves attack someone? How do they even know the werewolves are real?"
"The same manner in which I discovered it, I believe. Dresden's report, in addition to the accounts of survivors of the SI precinct attack that got out before the official story was regaled to the press," Marcone answered with a dry look at Harry. "And Mr Dresden has remarked that he would like to kill me in order to make the world a better place in the past."
Harry gave a neutral grunt in reply.
"If our federal friends are correct, we will deal with the threat as it comes. If they are not being entirely truthful, we will still deal with whatever arises," Marcone placated the wizard. "Although I would not put it past Dresden to attempt to persuade us of his innocence in any case."
Further discussion on the matter was cut off as a hand-held two-way radio transmitter crackled to life on Hendricks' belt. Suzie's voice issued through a rustle of static.
"Watch teams are all in position. Dogs are calm so far," the young woman reported.
Hendricks handed the two-way to Marcone, who replied, "good. Stay with the men and alert us when the dogs react to the loup-garou's presence."
"Sure."
"Not having her back here with us?" Harry inquired as he swept his gaze over the lawns of the estate.
"Miss Blue is not suited for this type of exchange. Her talents lie in information dealing and exchange. I am also...loath to expose her to the more violent elements of my business."
Harry raised an eyebrow at Marcone's answer but made no comment. He hadn't pegged Marcone as the type to cater for his employees in that manner. Maybe there was more to it, but if there was it didn't concern him at the moment. His musings were cut off by a faint ripple at the edge of his magical senses, followed quickly by Suzie's report of unrest amongst the dogs.
"They're near," the wizard announced, wand gripped firmly in hand.
"Very well," Marcone replied, before nodding to an approaching FBI agent. "Reports place Dresden nearby. Are your people ready?" he asked directly.
"We're ready," the agent, Denton, replied tersely. "Just don't get in our way."
Marcone smiled coldly at the man. "Do not presume you can do this without our help. You will need our assistance against Dresden and his allies."
Denton's eyes flickered to the wand in Harry's hand before returning to Marcone. "If you insist. I'll have two of my people stay with you. I wouldn't want you to run into the wolves without backup."
Harry frowned at the agent's tone. His gut warned him that this one was a predator rather than a scavenger.
"Very well then," Marcone ceded, tucking the butt of his rifle beneath his arm. "Hendricks, you are with me. Mr Potter, do remember to leave the werewolves alive for the loup-garou to dispose of."
Harry shrugged and nodded in one motion. He had little sympathy for werewolves who used their curse as a weapon. He glanced at the bright moon overhead that had just begun to wane. Even if they weren't exactly the type of wolves he was used to dealing with.
"Wilson, Benn," Denton barked at his people. "Stay with Marcone and his men. Benn, keep an eye on the young man. We can't have an unarmed civilian caught alone by the wolves."
Wilson, an older man with a slight paunch, and Benn, a fit young woman with a strange look in her eyes nodded their assent. While Wilson stomped towards Marcone with a surly look on his face, Benn approached Harry in a languorous stride, before giving him a heavy once over.
"Don't worry Boss," Benn almost purred. "I'll take good care of him."
The hairs on the back of Harry's neck rose and he plastered a bright smile on his face. "Fantastic," he replied cheerfully, along with some poorly hid ogling of his guard's figure.
Benn's lip curled in unhidden contempt.
"Perhaps you and your guard should survey the side of the property, Mr Potter," Marcone suggested, his poker face betraying nothing of what he felt.
"Sounds good," Harry agreed with a grin on his face, nodding like an idiot, before ambling off into the dark.
Benn gave a short growl before walking swiftly after her charge, ignoring the amusement of Wilson and the last unnamed, young agent.
X
As large as Marcone's property was, it took five minutes of quiet walking to reach a position where they would be able to see any intruders trying to make their way up its side. Through it all, Benn had taken to eyeing Harry like a piece of meat—and not in the good way.
A small copse of trees lined the tall walls around Marcone's estate. It was devoid of the usual sounds of night life, leaving the grounds eerily quiet under the bright moon. Directing his internal magic, Harry closed his eyes and cast a spell he had long since been forced by necessity to master, enhancing his senses to a supernatural degree.
The wind brushed across his face, telling him that Benn was standing behind him and slightly to the side. The copse of trees was completely silent, something in the night telling the creatures within that predators were about. The wind shifted, bringing with it the scent of fur, leather, sweat and magic. Harry let the spell go before opening his eyes, feeling the world around him become muted once more. The scent of magic was strangely strong here, stronger than any he had smelt in his home world save around powerful wards or battlefields, where blood and fury usually overpowered it in any case.
"They're coming from the back wall," Harry revealed, as he released the spell and opened his eyes to a muted world. "Not from this side though. Looks like they're circling round the other side."
Benn gave the wizard a suspicious look as he hunkered down on his heels. "How do you know that?"
"It's what Marcone pays me for," Harry answered with a look around the grounds, before turning his attention to the agent and smiling. "Now, I'm terribly sorry about this, but I didn't get this far in life by ignoring my instincts."
Benn spun to face the wizard at his words, one hand going into her shirt and a snarl on her face. She was too slow however, and had only time to hear a quietly murmured word before a feeling of bliss fell over her.
X
"I mean it, John. I really do, I shit you not. This entire thing is about them killing you."
"What a vulgar reassurance," Marcone said. "Agent Denton, we have a few details to attend to. Lower your weapon and let us be about them."
The scene Potter returned to was tense. Dresden was on his knees before Agent Denton looking battered and exhausted yet not beaten, while Marcone and Hendricks were staring down the FBI agent backed by his two subordinates who were standing over a bound blonde woman that Potter had never seen before. The still forms of a number of wolves littered the grounds around them, tranquillisers sticking out of them.
Denton smiled at his subordinates return as she made her way over to stand with the other agents. "Actually," he said to Marcone casually, "I think there will be a change of plans."
Before Marcone and Hendricks could fully process his words, Denton brought his pistol up and began to unload the full clip into Hendricks' massive form—only to watch in shock as Benn stepped into his line of fire and took two rounds in the stomach as she attempted to wrestle the gun from him.
Hendricks staggered back under the blows he had taken as Wilson and the other agent sprang at Marcone, only for the mob boss to slip away from their grasping arms like an eel as a knife sprang into his hand, seemingly from nowhere, and open a nasty gash along the young agent's arm when he attempted to parry with his own knife.
Potter flicked his wand at Denton as he struggled with the weakening Benn, a severing curse flying towards the agent's neck, only for him to heave the woman into the path of the spell and dive away, leaving his gun in her hands. Benn dropped to the ground next to Dresden, her head bouncing once as it rolled away from her body.
There was a brief pause as Dresden and Denton locked eyes, before the agent glanced at the prone form of the woman the other agents had been standing over earlier and smiled. Then Denton reached into his shirt and began to change.
Potter stilled in surprise as he watched the Muggle twist into a parody of a wolf, his mind connecting the dots with what information he had. The FBI werewolves must have been the ones after Marcone from the start, while using their positions to pin the attacks on the lycanthropes, Dresden's werewolf friends and the loup-garou.
Dresden, however, didn't pause for second. Reaching for the gun in the hands of Benn's corpse with one hand and into her shirt with the other, Dresden squeezed the trigger rapidly even as the gun quickly ran dry before tossing it aside. Two bullets buried themselves in the shoulder of the wolf-man even as he changed, skin and muscle sealing closed over them. The werewolf howled in pain as he leapt at the bound blonde woman, only for the large, shaggy wolf that Dresden had become to lunged forwards and connect with him in mid air, jaws closing around his foreleg.
Potter summoned the blonde woman away from the furious mess of tooth and claw, levitating her unconscious form to rest against a nearby tree. Seeing that the larger wolf that was Dresden throw the smaller wounded wolf, Denton, aside with a toss of his jaws, Potter turned his attention to where Marcone was fending off a wolf that must have been Wilson and the other freckled young agent with a pair of expertly wielded knives. He tossed another Imperius at the werewolf, only to feel his magic slide off the greasy, enraged bestial mind with little effect save a momentary pause in it's movements. Frowning at his failure to bend the animal to his will, the wizard turned his attention to the agent that was still human.
Marcone was hard pressed to defend himself from the combined attention of the snarling werewolf and the surprising competence of the young knife wielding agent, their speed forcing him to keep moving away and stay defensive lest they flank him and stick a knife into his kidney or tear a hamstring from his leg. He took advantage of a sudden pause in the wolf's movement to strike at the agent, only for the young man to jump abruptly to the side and drive his knife between the ribs of the wolf. The wolf snarled and instinctively retaliated, tearing out the throat of his partner in one movement, only to fall in turn as Marcone stabbed him in either side of the throat with his knives, collapsing to the ground in spasms as his life blood pulsed out.
The two surviving men looked over the corpses of their would be betrayers for a long moment, before Marcone broke the silence. "That's quite the skill you have there," he commented dryly, gesturing to the corpse of the agent that had turned on his fellow.
"It does come in handy from time to time," Potter replied modestly, before hesitating. "Don't mention it to Dresden, yeah? It's a little bit highly illegal."
"How illegal?" Marcone asked with a raised eyebrow as he wiped his knives clean on the shirt of the human again Wilson.
"Death sentence illegal apparently."
"Hmm," Marcone agreed with an incline of his head. "Let us return to Mr Dresden. It would appear that he has overcome Agent Denton."
Looking over to where he had left Dresden and the blonde woman, Potter saw the wizard leaning over a downed Denton, blood smeared across his mouth as he pinned the agent to the ground by his neck with bloody hands. A Hispanic woman, the one Potter had seen collect Dresden the previous night at the SI precinct after his run in with the loup-garou, stood at his side with a hand on his shoulder despite her frightened expression. At their approach, Dresden staggered to his feet, dropping a fur covered belt to the ground as he did so.
"John," Dresden rasped. "I hate to say it, but I fucking told you so."
"It would appear you were correct," Marcone conceded, "but for now we have more pressing concerns. The loup-garou cannot be far away. I have had a pit prepared elsewhere on my estate that we can lure the beast into before disposing of it."
"No," Dresden argued as he leaned on the woman at his side. "If this pit of yours can hold him long enough to kill, it can hold him till dawn. We don't have to kill him."
"I am loath to give a mindlessly violent animal opportunity to follow it's instincts so close to my home," Marcone frowned.
"If we can get it into the pit, I can make sure it can't escape," Potter offered with a glance between Marcone and Dresden.
Dresden looked at Potter, really looked at him, for the first time that evening. His gaze flickered between the other wizard and Marcone before clearly resolving to think about it another time.
"That is an acceptable compromise," Marcone approved.
Dresden just gave a tired nod before hobbling over to the stirring form of the blonde woman, watching her with concern. Marcone similarly approached the now sitting Hendricks, his shirt pulled up to reveal an unfastened Kevlar vest that partially hid a cluster of nasty deep purple bruises.
"Sir? Is everything alright?"
Hendricks detached the squawking two way from his belt to handing it to Marcone, who took several steps away before replying. "Yes Miss Blue. Mr Potter's concerns about the intentions of our FBI friends turned out to be correct, and they have met their end at the hands of a number of vicious animals. What is the status of the spotter teams?"
"The dogs have calmed down a bit but are still scared. Some of the men are a bit uneasy too," Suzie reported through the handset, static interrupting her voice several times.
"Very well. Hold your positions. Our business for tonight will be concluded soon, I believe," Marcone replied after another step away from the wizards.
Potter stepped away from his boss and towards Dresden and the two women whose names he was unaware of, overhearing what appeared to be the tail end of an argument.
"...don't know if I can trust you, Dresden. For all I know, you've set all this up yourself!" the blonde woman accused.
"Set this up? He almost lost himself trying to protect you, and you go and accuse him?" the brunette responded angrily. "Those agents took you hostage. Surely you can remember that!"
"Murphy, Susan," Dresden began to placate them.
"What?" the pair of them turned and snapped at him, causing the wizard to gulp.
The blonde woman, apparently called Murphy, clutched at her head in pain before Dresden could respond.
"What is it?" Dresden asked in concern.
"Whoever grabbed me jabbed me with a needle of something," Murphy grimaced. "My head is still swimming."
"I can help with that," Potter interrupted the discussion before it could devolve into an argument again.
Murphy gave him a suspicious look before caving as she massaged her temples. "Please do," she requested.
"Lean to the side," Potter warned as he raised his wand. "You won't enjoy this."
Before Murphy could do more than start to obey and process his words, Potter gestured with his wand and tapped it's tip to the woman's stomach. For several long seconds nothing seemed to happen, before Murphy turned green and dry heaved, choking slightly and then throwing up the contents of her stomach.
"God," Murphy croaked. "That was horrible."
"Yes, it was," Potter agreed with a smirk. "But you feel better now, don't you?"
"Who are you?" Murphy asked, rather than answer.
"I'm Potter. Harry Potter, Wizard for Hire," Potter introduced himself with a mocking bow.
Murphy snorted and looked between Dresden and Potter before shaking her head and closing her eyes. "I refuse to deal with two of you right now."
Further conversation was cut off by the approach of Marcone, as he addressed Potter, "Mr Potter, if you would be able to revive the fallen werewolves? I believe they may be of assistance against the loup-garou."
"That thing is coming here?" Murphy asked in a calm—too calm—voice, while the brunette, Susan, began to look interested.
Potter walked away from the trio as Dresden began to explain the situation to Murphy and approached the still form of the nearest werewolf. Focusing on the feel of the wolf's mind and magic, the wizard waved his wand in a deliberate motion before enunciating clearly, "enervate."
The werewolf sneezed violently as it jerked to it's feet, looking around in alarm. Potter raised his hands to show he meant no threat, his wand having disappeared back into his sleeve. Under the wary eye of the wolf, he reached forward and pulled the tranquilliser dart from its shoulder.
After giving Potter another suspicious look and glancing over to where Dresden and Marcone were standing, the wolf beckoned with it's muzzle and led the wizard to its unconscious fellows. In short order, Potter had revived the werewolves and removed the darts, having to dance out of the way of snapping jaws on more than one occasion before the disorientated wolves gained their bearings.
With the wolves revived and the loup-garou only minutes away, Potter jogged back over to the group of Dresden, Marcone, Murphy, Susan and Hendricks, the wolves loping behind him. The large bodyguard was watching the unarmed Denton with his rifle pointed blatantly at the man's head.
"Time is running short," Marcone announced to the group crisply. "I think it would be best for those not concerned with this matter to leave the grounds of my estate," the crime boss finished, his eyes glancing between Susan and Murphy.
"There are FBI agents dead here, Mr Marcone," Murphy informed him with ice in her voice. "That makes it my business, regardless of what accusations are levelled against them."
"You've seen what the loup-garou can do, Murph," Dresden argued half-heartedly.
"I am not going to walk away from this one Dresden," Murphy shot back. "I don't trust anyone here not to spin this in their favour if I'm not here. Regardless, all of you are persons of interest in the investigation into the actions of Denton's team," the blonde woman finished, fire in her eyes.
Dresden grimaced at Murphy's declaration of her lack of trust in him, before steeling himself. "If you won't leave, then you stay out of my way," he ordered, a palpable sense of power rising around him.
"Stay out of-" her tone was outraged.
"Murphy," Dresden's voice cracked. "You don't have inherited silver. You're not a wizard. You can't take on the loup-garou." Seeing the outrage and defiance still on the woman's face, he continued gamely, "but that doesn't mean you can't protect the others."
As if reading the wizard's mind, Susan began to prickle in anger. "You better not be thinking of sending me away like an unwanted child, Harry," the woman's tone warned of dire consequences.
Dresden turned to face her, the blood painting his jaw and teeth causing the woman to swallow and lean back almost imperceptibly. "No, I'm sending you away like a reporter from a fight with a giant, murderous, man eating wolf-thing."
Seeing the brunette open her mouth to argue, Potter interjected before she could begin. "Dresden is right," he stated bluntly. "If we have to fight this loup-garou thing worrying about collateral damage, we'll be too restricted to be effective. That beast of a fire spell Dresden used on it last night didn't even wound it that badly. If we both start throwing fire strong enough to kill at it, things are going to get hellish."
Having glimpsed the results of Dresden's spell first-hand, Susan was subdued by the thought of two wizards throwing fireballs around like it was nothing.
"You kids as well," Dresden added as he looked over the pack of wolves seated around them. Various whines and yips responded to his announcement, but he refused to relent. "This isn't a democracy. I let you to come with me, and you all got yourselves shot. You're staying out of the fight with MacFinn."
"We do not have so many allies that you can just send them to cool their heels, Mr Dresden," Marcone observed coolly.
"Your wizard," Dresden returned just as coolly, "and I should have enough muscle between us to corral MacFinn between us. If you and Cujo bring your fire-power to the table, we definitely will."
Potter only had time to raise an eyebrow at the way Dresden referred to him, before one of the wolves paced forwards evenly, golden eyes on the staff wielding wizard. In a ripple of skin and fur, a beautiful, wild and most importantly naked woman was standing before them. Potter's other eyebrow joined his first, followed by an appreciative whistle and a cheeky grin as he thoroughly looked the newcomer over, his thoughts running counter to his behaviour. Predator, he thought warily.
The werewolf ignored him completely as she stared Dresden down, also ignoring the dirty looks both she and the wizard were receiving from Susan and Murphy as he valiantly managed to keep his eyes above her neckline.
"You will not send me away like a teething whelp, wizard," the woman growled as she stared Dresden down. "My mate is too powerful for your fire alone to defeat him and I know how he thinks. You will need me."
"Fine, Tera," Dresden snapped, running his hand through his hair in frustration. "But the kids are staying out of it."
"They will guard the women along with the cunning one and his men," the woman stated as she cast a distrustful look at Marcone, Hendricks and Potter. "I do not trust him not to take advantage of my mate's weakness if we succeed."
"I would never dream of doing so, madam," Marcone returned mildly, the picture of a gentleman, even in his hunting vest with a rifle at his side.
The insects and other night life around them stilled. The sudden quietness was deafening.
"He is here," the naked wolf-woman spoke softly. "And likely watching us now. We have delayed too long. You have earned his ire, Dresden, and must be the one to lure him from the softer prey."
Without waiting for a response, the woman rippled once more, her form shifting back into that of a wolf.
A low, rumbling snarl echoed through the silence around them. The hair's on the back of Potter's neck stood on end as he turned with Dresden and the wolves to face the beast he could feel through his magic, even as the others looked around the area for the source.
The loup-garou emerged from the shadows, yellow eyes glinting madly under the light of the moon. A twisted, mutated wolf was revealed as it emerged from the tree line, savage yellowed teeth revealed in a snarl, hackles raised.
The group stared at the animal for a long moment, before a jolt of adrenaline surged through Potter's system in anticipation of the fight ahead. His wand-arm began to rise, already going through the movements of a complicated spell. By the time the loup-garou had tensed at the movement and begun to spring aside, Potter's wand was aimed in its direction as he spat out a guttural incantation.
The loup-garou ducked low, avoiding Potter's spell completely to let it impact harmlessly on a nearby tree and using its crouch to leap at the group, only to be met mid-flight by a large fireball and a strong scythe of wind courtesy of Dresden, who looked shocked at his own spells for the barest of seconds, before re-focusing on the task at hand.
Marcone and Hendricks opened up on the still airborne foe, large calibre bullets and tranquillisers doing little but effective all the same, while Susan and Murphy were herded back by the wolf pack, but only after the officer had stolen the subdued Denton's weapon and dragged him with them, while Tera prowled before the two men, crouched defensively.
The loup-garou landed on its back and twisted to its feet, howling in rage and pain. Yellow eyes narrowed at its primary foe, the staff-wielding fire hurling wizard, and it lunged at him, jaws seeking his throat—only to be forced to abort its attack yet again as something heavy whistled through the air towards it.
Three of the trees the creature had been hiding within had uprooted themselves and were advancing upon it, heavy branches swinging through the air in an attempt to swat the beast, as ponderous root-legs sought to crush it underfoot. Taking advantage of the loup-garou's distraction, Dresden threw another fireball, smaller this time, at it before turning and running, away from both the fight and the group defended by the wolf pack.
The loup-garou snarled in fury as its prey attempted to flee. Ignoring the strange tree-creatures and their slow attacks, it dodged around the food that held the fire sticks and ignored the growl of the bitch-wolf that stood before them, before the scent of a threat entered its nostrils. The not-food that had attacked it first reeked of cold, power and near-death. The loup-garou charged at it, instinct driving it to destroy the threat and challenge, only for it to turn on the spot and disappear, leaving its jaws empty. It turned, prepared to seek out the elusive not-food, when another blast of fire impacted on its shoulder, burning away its fur and searing its flesh. Enraged, the loup-garou spun and bolted after the food that dared to attack it with fire, leaping over the roots and branches that seemed to rise from the ground and reach out from the trees to trip and hold it back.
Potter watched as the loup-garou disappeared into the trees in pursuit of Dresden, who was leading it on a round-about route to the pit Marcone had prepared for MacFinn—the shortest path being right past those he had wanted out of the fight. The wolf woman, Tera, followed swiftly, Marcone, Hendricks and Potter turning and making a direct path for the pit. The werewolves, along with Susan and Murphy (who was still dragging a stumbling Denton along) followed them in turn, either figuring it was safer to stay together (not likely) or ignoring Dresden's warning to stay out of the fight (very likely).
The group was silent as they ran, save for harsh breathing and the rustling of the trees that literally followed them, rumbling the earth with their footsteps as they kept pace. Susan cursed as she wrestled with the bag slung over her shoulder, before withdrawing a camera of all things and waving it over the wolves running beside them, then shifting to the mobile trees behind them.
Ignoring the actions of the reporter, Marcone timed his stride so he fell in step with Potter. "Keep an eye on Denton, would you?" he murmured softly, so evenly you wouldn't think he was in the middle of a fast run. "It would be most unfortunate if he were to suffer a fate similar to his colleagues."
Potter glanced at his boss, catching his real meaning. He nodded once and his wand twitched in the direction of the captive agent, before returning his attention to the front. Marcone distanced himself from the wizard again casually as they ran and watching as Denton began to run with less struggle, inwardly satisfied with his employee's competence. He would have to think on this, Potter's seeming ability to control a person's every action, when he had time...it intriguing, and slightly concerning.
They slowed as the reached the pit that Marcone had had dug in preparation for MacFinn, no sign of Dresden or the loup-garou in sight.
"Ambush would be the best bet," Potter announced by way of explanation as he surveyed the area. The pit was located in the middle of an empty swathe of green lawn, the nearest cover, another copse of trees, some distance away. An artificial artfully ruined Greek or Roman temple stood off to the side.
"Dresden will arrive from somewhere in the vicinity of that path," Marcone told the group, indicating a sandy track that twisted into another of the myriad groups of trees that dotted his property. At his words, a gout of flame flickered briefly above the tree line.
Grunting an acknowledgement, Hendricks made his way to the trees at the edge of the ruined temple opposite the indicated path. He hauled himself up to a low branch, rifle strap slung over his shoulder, before repeating the action until he was out of sight, hidden by the leaves.
As Marcone led the remainder of the group over to the temple, Potter approached the pit. It was quite deep, with muddy walls that would not allow the loup-garou to claw its way out. Ideally, he would weave an illusion of grass over the top of the pit, but he lacked the time. Crashing and snarling from within the trees told the wizard that their foe was close. With a thought, he had his animated trees plant themselves around the edge of the pit, ready to drag the loup-garou in once he and Dresden were able to herd it close.
Without fanfare, Dresden shot out of the trees with speed that an Olympic sprinter would envy, altering his course to aim for the pit. Seconds later, the loup-garou appeared, shaking off vines that wrapped around its limbs and torso. Gunfire erupted from the tree line as Hendricks got a clear shot, opening small wounds on the wolf's shoulders that it ignored in favour of its pursuit of the wizard.
A ravenous beast literally snapping at his heels, Dresden pelted towards the transient safety ahead of him. With the beast directly behind him, Potter was forced to wait for an opening, unwilling to risk casting anything that could wound the creature with Dresden in the way. He began to circle around to the side of the pit, looking for an opening.
As he approached the pit, Dresden didn't even begin to slow. Aiming his staff at the ground behind him, he gathered his adrenaline, tiredness and sheer heart stopping fear of the beast only metres from eating him into a small ball and shouted, "ventas servitas!"
The wizard was hurled into the air and over the pit, arms wind milling for balance comically as he flew. He almost seemed to hang in place at the apex of his arc for a long moment, before he was landing heavily, staff slipping from his grasp. He raised his head quickly despite the pain, hoping to see the loup-garou falling into the pit—only to catch sight of the beast dashing around its edge towards him, no allies in its way save an animated tree and his staff several feet away.
Potter hurled curses across the pit in an effort to slow the creature down, only to have them dodged with maddening ease. The loup-garou was within ten metres of Dresden when a smaller, snarling form hit its side like a cannonball. The werewolf Tera sank her fangs into a muscled hind leg, diverting the loup-garou's attention long enough to Dresden to regain his feet and recover his staff. The wizard whirled to face the loup-garou in time to see it sink its teeth into Tera's neck and toss her aside limply.
"Forzare," Dresden growled, the runes along his staff lighting up from end to tip in a dark red. The loup-garou was caught completely off guard by they concussive force, the wind driven from its lungs and lifted several feet into the air. Dresden sagged, leaning heavily on his staff after the effort required for the spell, but trudging towards the still form of Tera regardless.
Potter suddenly disappeared from the other side of the pit, only to reappear between them and the recovering loup-garou, almost startling Dresden out of a years growth. Putting the apparent teleportation aside for now, the staff-wielding wizard focused on the stirring form of the wolf before him.
The loup-garou prowled before Potter as he stared it down. He could hear Dresden checking on Tera behind him, but remained focused on the threat, knowing it was just waiting for its chance. Deciding it had found a weakness, the loup-garou charged forward, intent on its prey, giving no attention to the gesture and shout it made.
The earth shifted, an enormous hand rising up to grasp the loup-garou and stop it in its tracks. An arm began to extend after it, leaving a deep furrow in the ground as it prepared to throw the creature it held, only for the strength of the wolf to overpower the fingers that held it, twisting free and falling to land on its feet six foot below.
Potter released the earthen construct, allowing it to fall back into its place as he stared the maddened beast down. It snarled and growled at him, saliva dripping from its fangs as it gathered itself for another charge, only to pause as his wand began to hum and a blast of cold power radiated from him. Dresden stepped up to his side, staff aglow and smoke wafting from its tip. He slammed the staff down, a wave of his own bright, unseen power issuing forth.
The loup-garou was silenced momentarily, ears flat against its skull, cowed by the strength of the two wizards before him. Then its hackles began to rise, a rumbling growl beginning deep within its gut as it eyed down those who would dare challenge it. The beast took a step forward, vicious claws extended, glinting in the moonlight.
The show down came to an abrupt end. One moment, the two parties were staring each other down, the next they were moving. The loup-garou leapt towards them, determined to reach its prey.
Dresden strode forward, a silver pentacle glowing in his fist. The loup-garou crashed into a glowing shield and bounced back, before darting around for another attempt. It was met by a heavy branch crashing into its side as two of the animated trees advanced, unnatural, angry roars reverberating through their trunks. The loup-garou snarled its defiance as Dresden continued to batter at it with blasts of concussive force, not knowing or particularly caring where his sudden surplus of energy sprang from.
Potter conjured a trio of Arctic wolves to harry the loup-garou, but otherwise kept his distance from the fight, most of his attention focused on the bleeding form of the werewolf Tera. Gently, he levitated her off the ground and directed his spell to ferry her over to the temple that sheltered the rest of the werewolves along with Marcone, Susan, Murphy and her prisoner Denton. Part of him noticed as one of his animated trees, the one not fighting MacFinn, stilled and slowly overbalanced, crashing to the ground, but he remained focused on making sure Tera reached the temple without further injury.
Despite his new found stamina, Dresden found himself tiring as he smacked around a creature he really had no right to be going toe to toe with. The rounds from Hendricks' rifle had fallen silent, and the loup-garou was darting between the animated trees as they swatted at him with ease now, ignoring the much smaller white wolves nipping at its calves entirely. It was now held back solely by the tiring staff-wielding wizard's efforts, and he began to back towards the pit in hopes of luring the animal into a charge he could hopefully dodge at the last moment.
"Come on you ugly overgrown poodle!" Dresden shouted as he bit back a laugh at the comparison, hyped up on adrenaline, fear and exhilaration.
The loup-garou began to froth at the mouth as it danced around the trees blocking it from its prey. It was furious, enraged beyond any manner of thought beyond the urge to consume the food that had done it such harm. It was some thirty metres from Dresden when it began to run him down.
Dresden set himself, readying a wind spell to help propel himself out of the maddened beast's way, when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Potter was suddenly at his side, despite having been some distance away dealing with Tera somehow. Stupid ninja teleporting.
"Trust me, and whatever you do, don't fight me on this," Potter told him calmly as he stared near certain death in its snarling face.
"No worries, I can trust you. You look much more trustworthy than the other guy," Dresden spoke in a rush with a nod at the loup-garou, ignoring the instinct that demanded he move, and be anywhere rather than right where he was at that moment.
The loup-garou was scant metres from them when it launched itself towards them. They were treated to front row seats as the beast's gaping maw opened wide, saliva flying through yellow fangs as it howled in preparation to crush their fragile bones. Then Potter's hand tightened on Dresden's shoulder and then they were being squeezed as they were forced through an indescribably tight passage, folded in two and forced into a tiny box, before being stretched out further than their bodies could possibly manage and snapping back, and then they were standing on the other side of the pit.
Dresden staggered, disorientated, and was quickly pulled back away from the edge of the pit by Potter. Shaking his head, Dresden focused on the man who had just put him through some sort of magical blender, only for him to indicate to the pit. Glancing over the edge, Dresden was greeted by the sight of the loup-garou prowling in a circle as it bit and snarled at the walls confining it.
"Got the bugger," Potter grinned triumphantly.
Dresden planted his staff and leant heavily against it as a wave of fatigue hit him, but still managed to raise his fist to the other wizard. Puzzled, Potter mirrored his action, breaking out in a bemused expression when Dresden bumped his fist against his own.
"Yeah, we're awesome," Dresden agreed blithely.
The pair of wizards stared down at the loup-garou for several long moments, before the sounds of police sirens began to echo in the distance, quickly growing closer. Potter closed his eyes and sighed, while Dresden groaned, resting his head against his staff. And the evening had been going so well until this point.
X x X
"Sir?" said Harry. "I've been thinking . . . Sir — even if the Stone's gone, Vol-, I mean, You-Know-Who-"
"Call him Voldemort, Harry. Always use the proper name for things. Fear of a name increases fear of the thing itself."
"Yes, sir. Well, Voldemort's going to try other ways of coming back, isn't he? I mean, he hasn't gone, has he?"
"No, Harry, he has not. He is still out there somewhere, perhaps looking for another body to share . . . not being truly alive, he cannot be killed. He left Quirrell to die; he shows just as little mercy to his followers as his enemies. Nevertheless, Harry, you have only delayed his return to power, as I have no doubt there are those out there all too willing to sell their lives to further his cause."
"You think he'll come back," Harry stated with certainty.
Dumbledore observed his student with blue eyes that suddenly seemed tired. "With a certainty I wish I lacked, Harry."
"There's one thing I'd like to know though sir..." Harry trailed off in question.
"Ask, Harry, and if I can answer your question in good conscience I shall."
"Well . . . Voldemort said that he only killed my mother because she tried to stop him from killing me. But why would he want to kill me in the first place?"
"Alas, the first thing you ask me, I cannot tell you. Not today. Not now. You will know, one day...put it from your mind for now, Harry. When you are older . . . I know you hate to hear this . . . when you are ready, you will know."
"He'll come after me again, won't he." It wasn't a question.
Dumbledore nodded once, gravely.
"And I can't do anything but wait for him to try?" Harry asked in frustration, staring imploringly into Dumbledore's eyes. He loathed the thought of being helpless. He'd almost rather go back to living in his cupboard and being a servant to the Dursley's than have this amazing world of magic open to him only to find himself just as helpless as before. At least there were no illusions about his lot with his family.
The Headmaster seemed to age a century as he pondered his reply, eyes closed behind his half-moon glasses. "While I wish I could say there would always be someone of stout heart and steady hand standing ready to defend you, I cannot possibly promise you that. If you truly wish to master your own fate, to be able to rely completely upon yourself and avoid all helplessness, the only advice I can offer you is this: become the best you can be, and then rise above that. Never give in to a so-called 'inevitability', for if you ever doubt yourself, you have already lost."
The pair of them sat in silence for several minutes as Harry pondered the Professor's words. Be the best that you could be. Never give up. The young wizard found himself warming to the words as they seemed to click into place within him.
"Thank you sir," Harry smiled in gratitude.
"No need to thank me, Harry," Dumbledore hummed in reply. "Although, I wouldn't say no to a sample of the rather fine collection of candy you seemed to have accumulated throughout your stay in the Hospital Wing."
"Go ahead sir," Harry grinned at the more than a century and a half year old's shameless not-so-subtle hint for candy.
Dumbledore hmmm'd and haaa'd for several moments before settling over a box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans. "I had the misfortune to encounter a vomit flavoured Bean in my youth, and since then I've rather lost my liking for them," the elder wizard confided in Harry. "But I think I'll try my luck with them once more," he said as he withdrew a Bean and popped it in his mouth. "Oho!" he exclaimed, delighted. "Raspberry!"
X x X
Potter jolted awake, blinking rapidly as a bright light was shone right in his face. It was sometime around five in the morning, and he hadn't been allowed more than ten minutes of sleep in a row since his arrest.
After capturing the loup-garou, he and Dresden had done their best to make the pit as secure as possible. While Dresden had worked something similar to what he had done at the SI precinct the night before involving a conjured plush toy to bind the beast itself, Potter had gone about placing an iron grate over the top of the pit, before weaving an illusion of a small pond on it, layering several avoidance charms in for good measure.
While the two wizards had been fighting the loup-garou, it turned out that Denton had made a desperate bid for freedom, surprising Murphy while she was distracted by the sight of magic in action and regaining his weapon, before taking Susan hostage, who had been filming . Completely disregarding the gun pointed at her, Murphy had struck at the rogue FBI agent like a cobra, disarming him again and freeing Susan from his grasp. Denton had attempted to shoot her in the process, only to find the gun out of ammunition. In retaliation, Murphy jabbed him in the throat and broke his arm, before throwing him over her hip. An awkward landing, accompanied by a crushed windpipe had led to a broken neck for Denton.
With police at the gates and a number of government employees dead by their hands, some quick thinking had been required. When the law made it to the ruined temple the group sheltered in, they discovered the body of FBI Senior Agent Denton, along with video evidence of how he got that way, courtesy of Susan, who grudgingly handed over her only evidence of the supernatural happenings of the night only after receiving a promise that she would get it back unharmed.
Marcone had been arrested on general principle even before the police had the full story, as had Potter once it was revealed he was in the other man's employ, although Hendricks was spared by virtue of his injuries. That was five hours ago, and Potter had been stuck in an interrogation cell since then.
The door to the cell slammed open, breaking the silence of the last seven or so hours. A burly looking detective in a black suit with a yellow Tweety Bird tie led the way, while a taller, thinner man clad in blue followed behind.
Black suit reversed a chair on the other side of the table Potter was seated at and sat down heavily, a smug grin spread across his face, while his partner sat down more sedately. He reminded the wizard of his cousin. "Twenty five to life. That's what you're going away for you little bastard. Thought you could kill a member of the FBI and get away with it? Your boss didn't fancy doing any time himself, so he gave you up like that," the man clicked his fingers.
Potter looked at the man, amused. "No, he didn't," he replied, looking perfectly at ease despite his situation.
"You think he'd go in to bat for a piece of shit grunt like you?" Black suit sneered. "You're small fry you little fucker, not even worth his time to protect."
"And I suppose he threw Hendricks to the wolves as well?" Potter asked curiously.
"Not that one," Blue suit spoke up for the first time. "See, Hendricks has been with Marcone long enough that if he tried to give him up, he would ruin him completely. You though, you're the new guy, expendable. You probably haven't even been clued in to many of his operations."
"Well, that's true," Potter mused. "I've only been working for him a few days now."
"And now he's throwing you away like a used condom," Black suit laughed like he'd told a great joke.
"Easy there," Blue suit remonstrated his partner, before turning back to Potter. "How old are you, kid? I've got a son, 17, see?" the detective reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet, flipping it open to reveal a picture of a freckled kid. "You don't look that much older than him. What are you doing mixed up with Marcone's type?"
"He pays extremely well," Potter admitted candidly.
"He would pay well, he only needed you to take the fall," Blue suit revealed with a hint of disgust, while Black suit snorted beside him. He leaned forward, before confiding in a whisper, "this is a pretty standard practice for him. Take in a kid who might be a bit down on his luck, offer to take care of him, and then leave him to take the rap for whatever law breaking he's been up to lately."
"He does?" Potter asked dubiously, leaning in as well.
"All the fucking time," Black suit announced. "Usually by the time we get to the dipshits who fall for his little games they're in the middle of of cast-iron court case with all the evidence pointing at them."
"What my partner is trying to say here, Harry, is that this time we got to you in time," Blue suit explained earnestly. Potter held back a twitch at the way he used his name, but kept his face clear and interested. "If you can give us evidence that proves you didn't shoot Agent Benn first, we still might be able to get you off, regardless of what Marcone and Hendricks are saying."
"Agent Benn?" Potter asked with a frown.
"She was the female agent who we found dead with multiple bullet wounds in her torso," Blue suit revealed gravely. "According to Marcone, you shot her when she rejected the advances you made."
"Ahhh," Potter nodded in understanding. "Yeah, I'm going to have to tell you to go fuck yourself."
"Excuse me?" Blue suit blinked.
"Go. Fuck. Yourself. Denton shot Benn when she tried to stop him from killing us, and the dogs that the other two had turned on them. I don't know what this whole thing was about," Potter waved his hand in an expansive gesture with an expression of contempt, "but if you're trying to make something up to pin on Marcone when there was a journalist, a P.I and a police lieutenant there to back us up on what happened, you're delusional. And your tie looks retarded," he added offhandedly to Black suit.
Black suit scowled heavily, while Blue suit leaned back in his chair and sighed. "Listen you little shit," Black suit hissed as he rose to his feet and shoved the table forwards, trapping Potter against the wall. "We know there's more to what happened than the little story you fucks are telling, and I-"
"My my," a new voice cut across the detective's attempt at intimidation. "I could have a field day here. Arrested without cause, denied counsel, deprived of sleep, attempted coercion with a side of assault—where should I begin?"
Black suit backed off and turned to glare at the newcomer as Potter looked him over. He was an elderly gentleman, impeccably dressed, a monogrammed handkerchief in his breast pocket, a leather briefcase in one hand and a polished cane supporting him in the other.
"Hello, Mr Potter. I am Mr Moresby, Mr Marcone's lawyer. He asked that I see to your release, as by all rights you should have been out of here after a quick statement hours ago," the lawyer introduced himself, gesturing to the cell doorway in invitation.
Potter kicked the table away, freeing himself from his position pinned against the wall. "It was fun while it lasted guys," he drawled as he walked past the fuming Black suit and the resigned Blue suit. "We should do this again some time." With a final wink to Black suit, the wizard left the room, Moresby following behind.
As they passed through the mostly empty police station, Potter caught a glimpse of the sunrise through the clouds as they exited the building.
"Mr Marcone has retired to his office to attend to several pressing business matters, but asked me to convey several messages to you," Moresby began as they stopped beside a sleek, expensive looking car. "He has received word that the one known as 'Tera' is alive and as well as can be expected, and is currently recovering under care he has provided. Mr Marcone also asked that you return to his estate to assist a Mr Dresden in the 'MacFinn' situation as he put it. To that end, I offer you a ride."
Potter turned the information over in his head for a short moment, before shaking his head. "Thanks for the offer, but I'll make my own way over to Marcone's place."
"Got a broomstick hidden somewhere, do you?" Moresby asked archly, causing Potter to raise an eyebrow. "Mr Marcone briefed me on the terms of your employment," he explained with a quirk of his lips, "and he is no fool. I may have my reservations, but Mr Marcone does not engage my services for any but those within his immediate circle."
"Thanks for getting me out of there," Potter replied, ignoring the unasked question. "But I suppose I should be getting over to Marcone's place." With a quick glance up and down the near silent street for anyone watching them directly, he turned on his heel and vanished, leaving behind a gaping old man, all composure forgotten.
X
Potter appeared several meters from the pit containing the loup-garou, the soft snap of his Apparation loud in the cold morning air. The ground still bore the marks of the previous night's battle, patches of charred grass, upturned earth and small craters dotted about the landscape. The figure that had been standing at the edge of the pit had whirled to face him, staff at the ready, but relaxed when they saw who it was.
"Potter," Dresden acknowledged with a nod of his head, before turning back to the pit.
"Dresden," Potter replied. He noted that the avoidance charms he had weaved over the pit had been hammered down, although the illusion of the pond remained.
"I broke down the mental suggestions you put up, but I'm having trouble with the veil," Dresden said by way of introduction. "I've never been that good with veils, and I'm too low on juice to brute force it," he admitted grudgingly.
"How long have you been at it?" Potter asked in curiosity as he began unraveling his illusion, mentally connecting that Dresden had identified his illusion as a 'veil'.
"Maybe twenty minutes. The mental part took me five. You want to be careful with those, by the way," Dresden cautioned him with a frown. "You might not have any problem jumping into bed with Marcone, but you want to stay off the White Council's bad side. Mental suggestions like that are very iffy, borderline third Law."
"You have a problem with me working for Marcone?" Potter inquired as he continued to work, deftly ignoring the reminder about the Laws of Magic.
"I do, actually," Dresden told him bluntly, for a moment looking rather grim in his leather duster and hat as he leaned on his staff. "You were born with an ability above your average mortal, and instead of using it to help people, you go and throw your lot in with a man who profits from crime."
"And why should I go out of my way to help people I've never met and have never done anything for me, Reverend?" Potter returned idly.
"You wouldn't help a stranger in the street if they asked for help?" Dresden asked in response.
"I might. But I'd also be watching for the friend ready to wallop me over the head and go through my pockets," Potter replied shortly, now stopping his work completely to focus on Dresden.
"I had you pegged as a Good Guy after I helped you out the other day," Dresden stated offhandedly, alluding to their first meeting at his office.
"Didn't your mother ever teach you not to rely on first impressions?" Potter asked.
"My mother died giving birth to me. Didn't yours teach you not to make assumptions?" Dresden responded dryly.
"My mother gave her life to save mine when I was a year old. She didn't quite have the time," Potter responded, equally as dry.
A cloud passed over the morning sun, darkening the sky for an instant. Then it passed.
"I've seen your soul, Harry," Dresden told him seriously. "You're not the sort to join up with Marcone because a life of organised crime is the one for you."
"You forget I've seen yours too, Harry," Potter told the other wizard, lips quirking into a brief grin. "And Marcone isn't the devil you'd like to believe him to be."
"So because he isn't as bad as he could be, it makes it okay for him to sell drugs to kids and make money off a woman selling her body?" Dresden demanded.
Potter raised his eyes to the sky, considering his answer. "I've lived through a war, Dresden. I survived, my friends and enemies didn't. And you know what? After the hundreds that were tortured, killed and lost, nothing changed. The same sort of people were in power in the government, the same prejudices that I bled and killed to see erased remained. After some of the things I've seen, hell, after some of the things I've done, one man running a criminal empire in a single city that could be so much worse really doesn't seem that bad to me."
Dresden fell silent, turning Potter's words over in his mind. While he himself was at least a few years the other wizard's senior, he couldn't help but see him as older after that little speech. Finally, he sighed. "I suppose the pay helps a lot too," he said conversationally, a peace offering.
"Oh yes," Potter grinned, beginning his work on the illusion again. "It certainly does."
"How good is it?" Dresden asked somewhat mournfully, thinking of all the bills he had laying on his table back at his apartment.
"Ludicrous."
"How ludicrous?"
"Very ludicrous."
"Posh English twat."
"Unrefined American heathen."
The two wizards grinned at the banter, the slight tension between them fading a little.
"I can see why you wouldn't mind working for Marcone," Dresden granted. "But I'd never be able to do it myself. And I figure you would have helped out with the loup-garou even if Marcone wasn't paying you too."
"I don't know about that," Potter replied mock dubiously. "My Good Samaritan tendencies are strictly per dollar these days. I've long since grown out of my 'saving people thing'," he finished with the barest hint of wistfulness.
"Tera probably would have died if you hadn't gotten her out of the fight like you had," Dresden told him somberly, bringing a serious tone back to their conversation. "I don't think I would have been able to deal with MacFinn without killing him, either."
Potter shrugged, not making any verbal reply.
"You have to show me how you did that thing with the trees though," Dresden continued thoughtfully, rubbing his chin. "Ents on demand? Saruman eat your heart out."
"I'll trade you for that trick you did with the plush toy to muzzle the loup-garou," Potter offered. He almost had the right thread to unravel his illusion now.
Dresden paused, surprised at the offer. He hadn't expected the other wizard to want to share such a valuable trick. "Thaumaturgy? It isn't exactly a secret forbidden art..." he trailed off, cursing his sense of fair play.
"It might as well be for me. I've never seen anything quite like it," Potter confessed. "And neither is my trick where I come from."
The comment sobered Dresden. "That's right. You hide your tentacles so well I keep forgetting you come from...Somewhere Else. I might not even be able to use your type of mojo."
"Couldn't hurt to try though," Potter remained optimistic. "Worst that could happen is that it doesn't work. And my magic does work here if only for me, even if it has been feeling...different. Aha!" he exclaimed, having finally found the right 'thread'. He could have taken the illusion down much more easily by just removing the spell behind it, but the illusion itself would have lingered. Finding the right thread took more skill and resulted in a better job overall. It was like the difference between kicking a tent over or dismantling it in order.
With the illusion removed, both wizards peered over the edge of the pit and through the iron grate that was now revealed.
"Hello up there," said the grumpy naked man at the bottom of the pit. "Not that I'm not grateful for getting me down here last night, but if you could get me out of this blasted pit?"
X
Twenty minutes later, MacFinn had been rescued from the pit and enjoyed the hospitality of a shower in Marcone's manor, while Dresden had 'liberated' a set of expensive clothes from somewhere (most likely Marcone's wardrobe, but Potter wasn't going to comment) that were ill fitting on MacFinn's large form, but still better than nothing.
MacFinn had listened in silence seated on a couch in the parlour of Marcone's manor as Dresden introduced him to Potter before telling the story of the previous night. Once the tale was done, he was quiet for several minutes as he digested it.
"Thank you," he replied at length. "Those damned hexenwolves nearly ruined everything. I'm glad you were able to resolve the conflict with them," MacFinn finished with a grin that told Potter he hadn't entirely left his wolfish instincts behind when he reverted to human form. "If either of you ever need a favour, just ask, and I'll do my best to repay the debt I owe you both."
Dresden nodded, while Potter filed this away for future reference. He did enjoy being owed favours.
"You wouldn't happen to know where Tera was taken, would you?" MacFinn asked somewhat anxiously.
"Marcone apparently has a driver ready to take you to her," Dresden explained, looking sour at being relegated to messenger status. Potter suspected Marcone had given Dresden the message to pass on just to get a rise out of him, but he wouldn't be the one to mention that.
"I'd best get going then," MacFinn said, rising to his feet. Potter and Dresden mirrored him.
"I'll be joining you then. I car pooled to get here and my ride left without me," Dresden told him.
"I guess I'll see the pair of you around then," Potter shrugged as they made their way out of the manor. "I was woken at an ungodly hour yesterday morning and I don't think I've had anything past a coffee and a sandwich since then."
With a nod to Dresden and MacFinn, Potter made his way to the garage where he had stowed his bike, while they approached the limousine that was apparently waiting for them.
Staring at his bike as he fought to keep his eyes open a minute later, Potter quickly decided against driving back to his hotel. Closing his eyes, he turned on his heel, before reopening them to find himself in a secluded corner of his hotel lobby. Trudging past the reception, he had almost made it to the elevator before a voice called out to him.
"Excuse me, Mr Potter?"
Turning to the source of the voice, he raised his eyebrows in silent question, allowing the dark bags that were surely present under his eyes do the talking for him. If the same blonde receptionist who had checked him in was fazed by his appearance, she didn't let it show.
"Mr Potter, you received a message while you were out. It is available for you on the message bank of your room phone," the woman told him politely.
Fixing a smile to his face, Potter turned back to the elevator, intent on reaching his room without further disturbance. One interminably long elevator ride with insufferable music later, he had reached his floor. He passed the red headed child waiting for the elevator without a second glance, stumbling towards his door and fumbling with his keys for several moments before gaining entry.
Shucking his boots, jacket and shirt in a trail to his bed, he struggled with his jeans fruitlessly for several moment before giving it up as a bad job and sprawling on his lovely, comforting, utterly awesome bed.
The message on his phone could wait. Right now, the most important thing was sleep. It had been a long working day, and he had better been paid overtime for his efforts.
If he had been slightly more aware, he might have spared a moment to be concerned over the fact that there was no one in this new world who might leave him a message that he hadn't just spent the past day with.