Disclaimer – Jim Butcher owns these characters. All I get out of this is telling a story in the TV Verse
Baked In
Sequel of sorts to Burnt Out – all the snippets of Harry and Bob and the house being themselves. Plus some small case fics, and well 'five kids in five minutes: ask me how' has some distinct possibilities… consider this well and truly alternate universe
o0o0o
Like riding a bike
"You want me to do what?" Bob asked, frowning at Pete. The boy was standing next to Harry, who was sitting astride the bicycle he had bought to ride with the children on some of the trails through the woods behind the manor. Mouse was standing beside Harry, tongue lolling at the prospect of running through the woods with the family. Harry's bicycle had a new feature, a set of pegs with a flat surface pointing skywards secured to the rear strut of the bicycle. Previously, Bob had accompanied them inside his skull, waiting to be summoned out when they stopped for a rest. His sense of the woods was quite patchy because of this.
"Stand on the pegs on the back of Pa's bike," Pete pointed. The rest of the children were watching with anticipation, so this was something that they had clearly planned. Mark was holding Pete's conveyance for him, and Bob shook his head at the hopeful look Mark sent him, "Look, like this," Pete demonstrated, stepping onto the pegs from behind Harry, his hands catching hold of Harry shoulders easily while Harry counterbalanced his youngest son's movements. Pete stood balanced for a moment so Bob could get the idea, then stepped back off carefully.
"You wanted to know what it was like to ride a bike," Harry prompted, and Bob's brow cleared. He had asked once or twice what it was like to ride a bicycle, a machine that had not been around in his lifetime. He was not able to ride one himself of course, and the children's explanations were difficult to understand. Evidently they'd decided this was the best way to let him try it, even though he couldn't touch the bike, or Harry for that matter.
"I don't think that will work, child," Bob said kindly. The children struggled with his intangibility more than Harry had, perhaps because Harry was tangible and the kind of parent that thought nothing of throwing his arm around someone's shoulders, or hugging an upset or unwell child. They gave Bob gifts, and some were sitting unused in a trunk that Harry kept specially for him, if only to mark the sentiment. Others he'd given to Harry to use, not wanting to see them go to waste.
"I thought about that," Harry told him and concentrated. A mantle of sorts spread across his shoulders, conjured the same way he conjured his stave. Bob could touch the stave after all, so perhaps… it would take some concentration, and he had the advantage of the laws of nature in that he wouldn't add any weight to Harry as they moved.
"Try it Pops!" Hannah was beaming, with the surety of a child that this would work, and he did so dislike to disappoint them. Pete went and reclaimed his bike and Bob shot Harry a 'you'd better be braced for their disappointment' look before moving to 'step' onto the pegs as Pete had done, his hands catching hold of the magical mantle Harry had spread across his shoulders.
To his very great surprise it worked. Not the pegs, which he had no sense of at all, but the mantle on Harry's shoulders grounded and oriented him. Also, he could almost feel Harry's shoulders and he squeezed them tightly, wondering how he'd never thought of doing this before. He adjusted himself cautiously while the children whooped at their success.
"Come on Pa!" Al yelled, and kicked off, heading into the garden and around the side of the house, the children and not-a-dog following him easily. Harry kicked off last, giving Bob an uneasy moment, and then speeding up to close the gap. The rush of air was lost on him, and the vibrations of the bicycle, but the shift of Harry's muscles weren't, and the way the world zipped past was both so immediate and removed in a dizzying rush.
"You might want to duck the branches," Harry called back over his shoulder, ignoring the tight grip on his shoulders, which was going to leave bruises at this rate. Al had magicked the gate leading into the woods from the garden open and Harry coasted through it carefully, irrationally worried Bob would knock against the opening. The Ghost didn't add weight to the bike, but the dual effort of keeping up with the kids and maintaining the magic that Bob was holding onto required a lot more concentration than he was used to.
He was quite pleased with how well the ride had gone when they finally met up with Murphy and Anna at the designated clearing. Murphy would drive their bikes to a car park close by and they would meet up, then go further on to the picnic point. All the cyclists carried packs with their own luncheon and refreshments, and their stopping point was usually not busy so they could sprawl out on the grass and enjoy their meal in peace. Most people chose not to stop when they caught sight of Mouse anyway.
"I see you've picked up a passenger," Murphy grinned as Harry came to a stop and Bob let go of the mantle, stepping clear of the bike, "Having fun Bob?"
"I am, in fact," he replied, "Thank you children."
He got five bright grins in return and Harry leaned over to kiss Murphy, to the disgusted noises from their collective children. She grinned when the kiss broke and turned to fix them with a mischievous look.
"You know, sometimes we do a lot more than kiss, sometimes we also … cuddle," she informed them. Bob snorted. They did a lot more than cuddle, though he'd never witnessed it first hand out of respect for them both. The children all mimed gagging and protested the information, taking off on their bikes when Harry made kissing noises at them. Mouse bounded after them, loping easily beside Pete. Bob paused a moment, looking at the slight fatigue in Harry's face as the mantle reestablished itself across his shoulders.
"Would you prefer I ride in my skull for a while, dear boy?" he asked, "I don't want to fatigue you unnecessarily. I'd hate to interfere with milady Murphy's … cuddle time."
"Shut up and get on," Harry told him, "It's fine. The longer we ride the more automatic it becomes, Pops."
"Besides, if he's really tired just I'll lay him out and do all the heavy lifting myself," Murphy took off after the kids while Harry choked on air and Bob sniggered at him. Bob resumed his hold on Harry's shoulders as Harry recovered his composure. Connie Murphy had a raunchy sense of humour in the right setting, and it was always a surprise.
"Well there's an incentive," Harry called over his shoulder and took off after his family.
0o0o0
Playful and protective
Bob watched the children disperse, taking their books with them. Winter was again upon them, and the household had shrunk by one with Julia away in college.
And thriving if her weekly calls were anything to go by. Harry had managed, after many years of work, to solve the 'airport hub' spell matrix and had used his powers to weave a pair of mats with the correct sigils in them. He'd taught their daughter how to activate hers, which made coming home for the holidays a lot easier for her. And Bob less likely to fret that she couldn't reach home in an emergency. Harry's former small study was now known as 'the airport lounge' with their mat laying ready to receive their traveller, and the house kept that door firmly shut to prevent any 'accidental' travel.
Harry had taken his apprentice and their youngest son to the ballroom for a practical lesson and Bob had taken the rest of the 'school' through a series of Latin lessons. Hannah was surprisingly quick with languages, to Bob's not so secret delight, and she had been excused to work on an advanced translation of Sanskrit. It was Hannah who came to collect him, walking him back to the workroom he shared with Harry. The door to the solar was open, and Bob stuck his head in to see who was there. Sheryl, freshly home from work if her clothes were any indicator, was looking through the glass doors into the ballroom. She beckoned Bob and Hannah over, finger to her lips as she did.
There was music in the ballroom, coming from Pete's small radio, playing something in the modern style, a man singing about being foot loose, whatever that was. Bob dismissed the music to smile at the two boys who were juggling small balls of tangible magic in time to the music, clearly following a pre determined pattern of tosses and catches, swapping 'balls' in careful sequence. This was an advanced form of the manipulation used to create the stave, one that Bob had only seen Harry perform once at the age of twelve, and that by accident.
When the child had realised that Bob could see him juggling he'd stopped at once, apologised, and conjured the sword that they were about to work with. Bob had mentioned that he didn't mind if Harry juggled, but Harry had shaken his head and looked away. Remarks made by his uncle later had illuminated the matter: Harry practised his fathers stage magic in the privacy of his room, and it was only to be tolerated if his more important education didn't slip. Harry hadn't realised that the conjuring he did when juggling was more advanced than conjuring his stave or sword, but Bob hadn't felt comfortable pressing to see the trick again.
Now he looked beyond the two boys who were clearly completing a training exercise taught them by Harry for Harry himself. He had almost expected to see Harry standing to the side, hands behind his back in his best imitation of Bob's own stance, watching and giving advice as he often did with practical lessons.
Instead, Harry was playing.
He was dancing, six balls in the air, an ever changing pattern of falls and catches, sometimes allowing one ball to fall towards the ground where he kicked it back into the pattern with his heel or toe before it could hit the floor. He was laughing as he spun and swirled, tossing the balls with precision and expertise, his face so light and happy that Bob caught his non-existent breath.
He'd never seen his boy happier.
The song came to an end, with the boys each juggling three balls of their own magic and Harry stopped dancing about, catching and dissolving each of his own balls.
"End them neatly," Harry instructed, not even out of breath, and Scott and Pete caught and stowed each ball in a single hand before dissolving them.
"Nicely done," Harry grinned and Pete grinned back. The boy was still their most reluctant student and Bob was surprised that the thought of failing at such a task hadn't put him off. Unless Harry had simply not mentioned how difficult the task was, a sure fire way to get around Pete's block.
"You said granddad taught you to juggle?" Pete asked. Bob was surprised to hear Malcolm Dresden referred to in such a way, but it made sense. Their children were all decidedly of the Dresden line. There was not a single Morningway trait among any of them, by design of both their 'parents'.
"Sometimes, when he had an afternoon matinee, I'd do it in the foyer and make a few tips," Harry agreed, "He didn't mind, so long as I didn't annoy anyone. I had a little radio like yours Pete, and I'd juggle to whatever tune came on. It was a great way to help out with the bills, and I was somewhere he knew I wasn't getting into mischief."
"Should we try the three person one now?" Scott asked, "With the clubs?"
"If you're not too tired," Harry nodded when both boys earnestly told him they weren't, "Alright, three clubs each, standard fall."
Hannah and Sheryl sat on the planters where they could see and Bob moved to the side so as not to distract them as Harry talked them through a simple nine club pass and catch pattern, then got them to walk in a circle while they did it, using the music as a guide. Once they were moving steadily, he added a ball, tossing it up and down above his head a few times, then added it into the mix, tossing to Pete, who managed to keep it in the air and pass it to Scott. Who fumbled it for a moment and managed to pass it on.
"Not a club!" Scott protested and Harry snorted.
"Not the deal," he replied, "Come on young apprentice, surely you can manage?"
"Manage this," Scott muttered and changed his club to a large ball, sending it Harry's way. Harry tossed the ball straight up and then kept walking, using his heels to bounce the ball back and forth over his head as he added in another club to make up for the one that Scott had changed. Bob frowned at Harry's apprentice, who wasn't usually so cross with a bit of teasing or a challenge. Of all the children in the house, Scott was the one who had the most even relationship with Harry, perhaps because he had long ago accepted him as a figure of authority.
"How do you do that?" Pete asked, his face creased with concentration as he kept his part of the pattern going smoothly. He was doing very well actually, and Bob was pleased to see it, given how late the boy had been to start his studies.
"Practice," Harry replied, "Lots of practice."
"That's your answer to everything," Scott muttered, and Harry chuckled. His apprentice's unexpected temper didn't seem to bother him, but then he rarely reacted to children in a temper unless they crossed the line and insulted or disrespected Bob.
"Doesn't make it any less true," he informed his apprentice, "Now boys, come to a halt…. And stop passing… and end it smoothly."
He was still kicking Scott's over large ball back and forth while the boys ended their routine, the extra ball with Harry.
"Good job," Harry kept juggling his own clubs, ball, and Scott's ball, "I'd teach you with knives next but I'm worried Scott might impale me when I annoy him next."
"I'm not mad at you," Scott grumbled, "I'm mad at dad. He showed up at school today, the jerk. He wants to know where we live, and I wouldn't tell him, so he grabbed my arm."
Harry banished all the things he was juggling, and moved to check Scott's arm, as did Pete.
"I didn't let him get a good grip," Scott rolled his eyes, "You taught me better than that, Harry. It just pissed me off is all. I don't want him upsetting Mom."
"Oh he won't," Harry replied, letting go of Scott's arm and patting his shoulder instead, "I'll sort him out."
"You will?" Scott brightened, "Mom's so busy at the moment with school and work and everything. I don't want to bother her if I don't have to."
"Consider it dealt with," Harry informed him, "Now, there is an hour before dinner, and I'm sure you two still have homework to do, or if not, chores."
"On it Pa," Pete picked up his radio and headed for the door, "Thanks for the lesson!"
Hannah left Bob on the planter and slipped out of the solar, leaving Sheryl, who was wide eyed, and Bob, who was fuming, to wait for Harry. They knew they'd been spotted, he'd winked at Hannah at one point.
"Enjoy the show?" Harry asked Bob sardonically. Bob made a note to tell Harry that he had enjoyed the show immensely, but it would wait for a better time.
"Harry, you don't have to…" Sheryl started and he sat down beside her, tucking an arm over her shoulders. His white knight tendencies hadn't diminished much over the years. Mark, thankfully, had not inherited them to the same degree.
"I know I don't," he said, "But Scott is right. You've got a lot on your plate with night school, and work and all. You focus on being a lawyer, and I'll go round and see the ex, find out what he wants. He's only allowed to speak to you through an intermediary, remember? I'll tell you want he wants, and you'll tell me what your response is."
"You won't hit him again, will you?" Sheryl quirked a small smile. It wasn't clear if she was trying to encourage or dissuade him, and Harry smiled back.
"Not unless he swings first, I promise," he replied, hand on his heart.
"Alright," Sheryl nodded, "Thank you Harry."
"I'm gonna go make dinner," Harry told her, and stood, scooping up Bob's skull and cradling it protectively in the crook of his arm, "Pops, how can I convey you?"
"Workroom please," Bob requested, "I want to go over your solution to that theorem we were working on."
"As you wish," Harry bowed and Bob swatted a hand through him.
o0o0o
For a good cause
Bob was never sure what Mai had said to get Harry to agree to this insanity, but whatever it was, he took her seriously, and refused to tell him what it was about. Harry had spent months working with a blue eyed, long haired blond who called him 'Hal' in the ballroom, the doors and windows sealed against intrusion or prying eyes. They worked at least twelve hours a day, and she slept in a guest room upstairs. The house really liked her. Al had a huge crush, but that may have been the lithe figure in tight clothing.
If Connie knew what was going on, she wouldn't say anything either. She continued to visit the house, and played chess with Bob while Harry was off in the ballroom, working with Adele, doing whatever it was that Mai had demanded. She would only say that Harry said it was important, and that she trusted him. Julia had informed him in the weekly call that she was coming home for Saturday night, and Harry had insisted that all of the children find appropriate formal wear for the theatre. Hannah had not kicked up a fuss that her dress couldn't be short and overly tight, which was a small miracle, until Bob realised that Mark had told her they were representing their Pa at a charity event and she had accepted the need to be less … flamboyant in her dress. She and Julia had both chosen floor length gowns with modest necklines and long gloves, their hair elegantly pulled back. Harry had presented Bob with a velvet satchel to ride in, and Bob had swatted at him for it. Mark had made sure that it was the velvet satchel that came with them though. Bob had made sure he materialised in his best suit.
Harry had secured them a box to watch from, and Bob was shocked to see Ancient Mai and the High Council in the box opposite them. Anna and Connie had joined them, looking resplendent in their own formal dresses, and Scott and Sheryl had met them there. Bob had been astonished to see that they were attending a 'one night only' magic show, raising money for charity. There would be several stage magicians, local and not, performing thirty minute slots, then a two hour show from someone called David Copperfield, who was apparently the headliner and main attraction, and then followed by the 'Amazing Dresden', who would close the show.
"I'll kill him," Bob muttered to Sheryl and Connie where he stood behind them, and they both turned to give him amused looks, "All of that training and work, years of lessons, and he gives in to Ancient Mai's request for a stage show?"
"It's for a good cause," Sheryl reminded him, "And I'm sure that whatever Mai said to make him agree is important."
"Just… try and see if you can work all the tricks out," Connie advised, "Because you know the kids will."
This was true. As the shows progressed, Bob did indeed join the children in cataloguing the various sleight of hand, bait and switch and simple misdirection tricks that the amateurs performed, and performed well. Some of them had a very engaging patter, and one pretended great ineptitude with enormous comedic effect. Even Bob had snickered under his breath once or twice.
There had been a brief intermission, and then the Copperfield magician took the stage. He was good, with flashy effects and complicated mechanisms. His timing and delivery was flawless, and several of the tricks almost looked real to Bob's highly critical eye.
"Bob," Murphy said from behind her program, "Look at Ancient Mai."
Bob glanced at the box across them and was supremely amused to see how bored she looked. One or two of the skimpily clad assistants caught Mai's eye, and also Julia's if her reaction was anything to go by, and all in all, Bob enjoyed listening to the children deconstruct the tricks under their breath. He hadn't realised that Harry had shared so much of his fathers stage knowledge with the children, but then Harry didn't speak of Malcolm Dresden to Bob. He didn't hold his fathers' death against Bob, but he didn't talk about the man much either.
Copperfield worked with tigers and other exotic props, and Bob was thoroughly unimpressed. The audience were entranced though, and he could see that if you weren't aware of the stage craft it would be quite the show.
There was another brief intermission after Copperfield's four standing ovations, and Bob had been deeply gratified that the audience had stayed after the headliners turn. Coming out to a half empty theatre would have been disappointing for his wizard. Copperfield went to sit in Mai's box, clearly interested in the unknown magician that would follow him.
"Is that Bianca?" Bob leaned forward incredulously, and blinked when she blew a sultry kiss at him from the next box over. It seemed the luminaries of Chicago's magical community had come to be entertained by the community outcast.
"Saskia and Bjorn are down there too," Mark said, pointing discretely, "And several of your students, Pops."
Bob looked around and acknowledged the waves he was getting from both the balconies and main body of the theatre, bright young faces clearly looking forward to seeing the man they knew as a teacher put on an entertainment.
"I am the only one who didn't know he was doing this, aren't I?" Bob scowled and Connie got up, waving him to the back of the box.
"He's terrified of your opinion," she said in a tone the children couldn't hear, "He told me he doesn't care if he screws up in front of the High Council, or the best stage magician in a decade, it's you he's the most afraid to let down. Sheryl suggested he just not tell you, and he gave in when he dropped Adele twice in practice, he was so distracted."
"Ah," Bob swallowed, blushing a little. He could be rather contemptuous of frivolous uses for magic. He followed her back to her seat and smiled at the children when they glanced his way.
The stage curtains rose again, and standing in the spotlight, wearing a dove grey pair of trousers, white shirt and black waistcoat was a three year old that looked extraordinarily like Harry had as a child, though younger than when he'd first met Bob. The stage was striped with bright light and dark shadow, and the boy was standing in light at the back of the stage. He smiled and waved at the audience.
"Is that Pa?" Pete leaned forward. The three year old conjured three balls of magic and started juggling them.
"When I was three, my dad taught me to juggle," the three year old said in Harry's adult voice, then stepped forward into a bar of shadow, the three balls still glowing as they moved, and Harry stepped out again into the light, now aged ten, juggling six balls, "He was the Amazing Dresden, and he taught me all I know about life on the road. It was a lonely life though, and when he passed I went to live with someone who hired a tutor," Harry stepped forward into the shadows again, the six balls the only thing you could see of him, and when he stepped out he was just seventeen, nine balls now in the air, floating in a complex pattern that deft hands maintained with surety. The ageing was a breathtaking display of illusory magic.
"My tutor taught me many things, and I wasn't always the best of students. But he raised me to be the man I am today," Harry continued quirking a smile at them, "Of course, he was a ghost, so his methods were a little… old fashioned…"
He stepped into the final bar of shadow and out again, his proper age, juggling twelve balls, "And his magic was very different to my fathers," the balls swirled up into a circle, spinning above Harry's head, his hands bent out from his sides, palm up. "Still, you never lose the desire to make your parents proud. So, Dad and Pops, this is for you both."
The balls, which had been spinning so quickly they formed an almost solid circle dropped suddenly to the floor, casting a curtain of sparks up into the air. Bob could still see the small transportation rune under Adele's feet as she stood where Harry had been, dressed in a slinky midnight blue gown that sparkled like diamonds under the lights.
For the following hour and a half, Harry and Adele used a combination of stage and occult magic to dazzle their audience, switching flawlessly between them both, with a considerable amount of acrobatic skill, though the stage magic was of the simplest kind. At one point they waltzed above the audience, floating disks of magic under their feet, moving as they stepped. They transfigured objects, cast illusions for the audience of breathtaking complexity, and switched between touchingly tender to comically hilarious. At the end, when they were taking their well deserved bows Harry glanced up at the box that contained his family and Bob bowed to him, hand on heart. The relief in Harry's face lit up the theatre, and the stage lights dipped for a moment, then came up on an empty stage. There was a small noise outside the box, and the door opened.
"So how badly did I goof?" Harry asked from behind them, and was swarmed by excited children. Adele came in for her own share of compliments, especially from Julia who hadn't met her yet. Connie kissed him soundly, but there was still a little bit of wariness when Harry came up for air and Bob stepped to his side.
"You were magnificent, Harry," he murmured, and Harry relaxed in relief.
"Harry, that was highly entertaining," Bianca drawled from the doorway, her barely appropriate theatre wear making even Hannah 'nothing is ever too tight or too short' look astonished, "I should book you for the club."
"Sorry Bianca," Harry bowed, hand on heart, "This was strictly a one time thing. Adele, however, may be interested…"
Adele was in fact very interested, and went to talk to Bianca, waving to Harry as she went. Bianca shot Harry a knowing look and received a shrug in return. She frowned for a moment, then glanced behind her. Her face cleared and she ushered Adele out into the corridor.
"Does she know…" Bob murmured and Harry nodded. As a vampire, there were certain things you needed to know about Bianca to escape an encounter with her unscathed.
"Dresden," Mai said from the doorway as Harry urged the children to collect their things. Mark was driving the family van back to the manor, and they were making plans to hit a drive through on the way home for snacks, so they didn't notice the leader of the council was glaring at their father. Bob moved closer to Harry, not liking the fact that she was so close to his loved ones.
"Ancient Mai," Harry replied, "And? Did I do well?"
"Your performance sufficed," Mai replied and threw a small velvet bag at Harry, turning and stomping off. Harry tucked the bag away carefully and took Bob's bag from Mark. He waved goodbye to the kids, kissed Connie goodnight tenderly, then handed her an envelope, and watched Sheryl and Scott lead the way to the car park.
"We're not going back with them?" Bob asked, and Harry shook his head.
"Connie is going to spend the night with them," Harry said, "You and I have an errand to run, once I get changed."
Harry wove through the people back stage effortlessly and Bob walked closely behind him, lest he be walked through. Harry changed into warm outdoor clothes, including waterproof boots, and transferred the velvet pouch very carefully into the heavy winter coat that Bob had never seen before. It's lining was stitched with various sigils and wards, and when Harry slipped his wand up his sleeve Bob sighed.
"We have work, I take it?" he murmured, and Harry nodded, his face serious.
"I have to take us somewhere first, and you will have to be in your skull," Harry said, "I need you to trust me, Pops. You're not going to be happy at first, but… please trust me."
"I'd say I trust you with my life," Bob drawled, despite his misgivings, "But that would be less than apt. I trust you with my damnation, then."
The shadows at the corner of the room bulged and Mouse stepped out of them, trotting to Harry's side and sitting with a thump. Harry didn't seem surprised to see the dog, which meant that whatever he was about to face, he needed some protection. He took his staff, which Mouse had been carrying and pulled a piece of chalk from his pocket.
"Time to get in your skull Pops," Harry whispered and Bob gave him a long look, then allowed his essence to dissolve, flowing into the prison Harry carried on his hip.
0o0o0
"Hrothbert of Bainbridge, I summon thee," Harry's voice was rarely so formal, and Bob emerged from his skull with a frown. It was night, and they stood in the snow drifted ruins of a building, the outline of which was horribly familiar. This was the Abbey where he had been executed and cursed, and Winifred's soul banished beyond all hope of recovery.
"Not here, never again here," Bob whispered, cold seeping into him that had nothing to do with the cold wind he knew was whistling through the place.
Bob spun to face Harry and came up short. His boy was wearing his coat inside out, the runes and sigils glowing with power. In their light, Harry looked frighteningly alien to Bob, both familiar and stranger at the same time.
Bob stood in an active circle, which normally wouldn't worry him, except it too was glowing with power. He reached out and recoiled as the edge of the circle sparked, halting his hand. The manacles of his curse were glowing, and he could see the circle around him reflected the runes he wore in bands around his wrists.
Harry raised his hand, glowing with power. In it rested Bob's skull, the power crawling over the carved sigils, sparking as it came to intersections and resections. Bob wasn't sure what was happening, but it was being powered solely by Harry, and he had already spent a good deal of energy tonight.
"Hrothbert of Bainbridge, Name your master," Harry intoned, his eyes staring deeply into Bob's own eyes. The geas on the skull should have compelled him to reply, but he felt no tug at his curse. He thought about stopping whatever this ritual was, Harry tilting once more at windmills, but he had promised Harry that he trusted him, and to not answer would be a betrayal of that trust.
"You are my master, my son, Harry Blackstone Copperfield Dresden," Bob smiled, his heart compelling him to add, "And always shall be."
The runes around them flared to a terrible sort of life, and Harry raised his other hand, clenched around something in a fist. Blood dripped from it, as the edges of whatever he held cut his palm. Bob sucked in a worried breath, but before he could say anything Harry opened his hand and slammed it against the back of Bob's skull, shouting indistinct words of power as he did.
It was like being punched in the back of the head by a giant, and Bob found himself on his knees, vomiting from the pain. The light was blinding and outside of it he could hear Harry chanting steadily, his voice taking on an eerie quality. Bob slumped to the side as the light cut out, falling through what had once been a barrier and striking his head on the cold stone floor.
He lay in the biting cold, shivering and panting in the dark. Then a match scratched itself on something rough and a candle stub was lit. Harry crawled to his side and cradled Bob's head in his hands. One was slick with blood, both were warm.
"Bob?" Harry asked, his voice rough, "Pops, can you hear me?"
"Harry," Bob moaned, "What have you done?"
"Nothing the High Council didn't approve," Harry muttered, his hands running over Bob's body carefully. Mouse came and lay beside the formerly dead sorcerer, lending body warmth, "Though that bitch Mai made me perform on stage like a monkey before she'd hold up her end of the bargain."
Bob watched in the weak light of the candle as Harry shrugged out of his coat, ripping out the lining savagely, "Still, at least it was for a good cause." Harry continued, "Connie will tell the kids what we've gone to do, so they'll at least know why we're not home right now."
He stuffed the silk lining in the velvet pouch he was still carrying, then wrapped Bob in the woollen coat, lifting him carefully.
"I know you feel bad Pops," Harry grunted, getting to his feet, "But we need to get out of here now, and I can't transport us. I'm almost wiped. I sent a friend another of our mats, and they aren't too far from here, so Mouse and I will get you home. Just rest."
"But how…" Bob trailed off moaning as his head ached with the effort of talking. Mouse paused to collect Harry's staff, then moved into the lead.
"Shhh," Harry kissed his temple, "If I know you, you'll fret yourself into a state, so here's the deal."
He paused to step carefully down out of the ruins, Mouse supervising carefully, then started walking along a path that Bob couldn't see. All he could see was Harry's neck and the side of his face, and he gazed at it in wonder. Dawn was starting to lighten the world around him, making it easier to see and also more painful.
"I know we say you're nine hundred years old, Pops," Harry began, his voice a little strained with the effort of carrying Bob, "But that's not exactly right. Tonight is Samhain, and the thousandth anniversary of your curse."
"It is?" Bob mumbled and the arms holding him tightened for a moment, Harry pausing to look down at him, worry etched on his face. They'd crossed the date line, moving effectively six hours forward in time, he realised dimly and hid his face in Harry's neck to hide from the dawn that was yet to rise on his children back in Chicago. Despite the effort he was putting out, Harry smelled comfortingly familiar, and the touch of his skin to Bob's face brought with it the familiar feeling of love and protection.
"There was a prophecy about you," Harry said after a moment, adjusting his grip and continuing on through the trees, Mouse leading the way, "The High Council have kept it concealed, but if they didn't act on it, then they would bring about destruction and death, not sure how."
Bob mused that if he'd had to remain a Ghost and watch Harry die he'd probably have done something terrible in response. He wasn't sure how either, but he'd have had time to plan it.
"You had to meet certain conditions, and do so with a single master, by your nine hundred and ninety ninth year. And on the dawn of your thousandth year your acknowledged kin would be able to free you, by fusing into place the final piece of your skull in the place of execution… you know what, I'll go through it with you when your head hurts less," Harry grunted. There was a creak of a gate and then a voice calling and Harry managed to walk into a house, angling himself and Bob carefully through the doorway.
"I stuck that mat of yours where you said, mate," a male voice said too loudly for Bob's taste, "Step on and I'll send you on your way. Uh, what about the dog?"
"He'll make his own arrangements," Harry sounded exhausted. He'd been casting for an hour and a half constantly, and then performed a major working on top of that to bring Bob back to life. He didn't falter though, and Bob marvelled at the strength in his thin frame.
"This is him then? Your old man?"
"Less of the old," Bob growled and then gagged. Harry lowered his feet to the floor as the coat was pulled gently away, locking his arms around Bob to keep him upright.
"Please don't throw up on me Pops," Harry begged, "Thanks Charlie. I'll call you, yeah?"
"Yeah you'd better. I want to meet those kids of yours," Charlie replied, "We'll organise something. Ready then?"
"Deep breath, Pops," Harry encouraged and the spell net caught them, flinging them through space and time. Bob wretched miserably as it let them go, but had nothing to bring up. A door banged open and he whined in pain, clutching at Harry as his only point of reference. There was a rush of voices, which Harry hushed, and then strong arms pulled him away from Harry. Bob flailed a little then, needing the scent of snow and books and wood smoke back, his vision tunnelling in the migraine from hell. He could hear Harry's voice though and was vaguely aware of movement.
Something cold was forced down his throat and Bob slept.
0o0o0
Second chances
He was lying on a soft surface, on his side. His head was pillowed on something soft too, and his arm was stretched out. Strong hands encased his, and he'd know that touch even dead, had known that touch when dead. Harry was holding his hand. There was a crackle of fire, but contained, in a fireplace. His pillow smelt of snow and books and wood smoke. He was in Harry's bed then, in their home.
He could sense light on the other side of his eyelids, and wasn't too sure about opening his eyes. A very large part of him was convinced he was in his skull, dreaming or hallucinating. Opening his eyes would dispel the illusion, and it was such a longed for illusion. It would break his heart to lose it, though his heart had long since stopped beating.
"Hrothbert of Bainbridge," Harry's voice sounded amused, "Stop lollygagging and open your eyes."
Bob's eyes flew open, and there he was, his impossible idiot, grinning at him. Harry let go with one hand and rubbed his thumb over Bob's temple, then ran his fingers through Bob's hair gently. The sensation was extraordinary.
"How's the pain?" Harry asked seriously, and Bob wet his lips. The coolness of them as the air struck the moisture distracted him for a moment.
"Gone," he said after a moment, and Harry let go of his hand completely. Bob rolled onto his back and watched, a little detached as Harry scooped up a glass of water and then lifted his shoulders enough to allow him to drink slowly, lowering him as if he was made of glass. Bob reached out, marvelling that he could, and caught hold of Harry who sat on the edge of the bed. Harry had changed from the outdoor clothes he had been wearing to the relaxed clothing he wore on the weekend when the family was staying in. He wore the thick ribbed woollen sweater the children had bought him last Christmas, the one with the pockets and elbow patches that was the least fashionable item Bob had ever seen. He'd been given one too, it was in the trunk that Harry kept for him especially.
"How long was I out?" Bob asked and Harry shrugged, looking over at the clock. He was pale and tired, but evidently hadn't left Bob's side since they returned to the mansion, which was only to be expected.
"About twelve hours," Harry calculated, "We gave you a really strong pain remedy, which helped with the nausea, and you settled to sleep. It was a job getting the kids to bed though. Connie and Anna stayed the night too. They wanted to be here when you woke. I slept beside you for a while."
Tears spilled unexpectedly over Harry's cheeks and he bent over, hugging Bob for all he was worth. Bob hugged him back just as hard, knotting his hands in Harry's sweater tightly.
"Hi Pops," Harry mumbled and Bob gasped, tears spilling over his own cheeks.
"Hello my son," he managed to choke out and they cried together for a long moment, relief and all the other emotions they'd never express aloud spilling out of their skin.
"I can feel you," Bob said as Harry sat up, wiping his face and then reaching out to wipe Bob's, "The emotions that I could detect when you touched my skull, I can still feel them from you."
Before Harry could do more than look startled the door to the bedroom opened and Connie hurried in, sliding to a halt and then leaning down to hug Bob comprehensively. She smelled of heated spices, wintergreen and gun powder, and it fit her so perfectly he was astonished he hadn't guessed it.
"Milady Murphy," Bob smiled up at her as she drew back. She shifted so she was standing between Harry's legs and he wrapped an arm around her.
"Hrothbert," she sniffed and kissed Harry soundly, "I can't believe you finally did it."
"I should like to know how you did," Bob confessed, and took a breath, pushing himself to sit up. They had changed him out of the suit he had been wearing some variation of for a thousand years into modern sleepwear. The cooler air of the room had him shiver for a moment, and then Murphy was handing him the sweater that matched Harry's: the one he had privately been glad he'd never be able to wear. From Harry's knowing look his wizard was well aware of his ambivalence. The sweater was warm though.
"Where are the kids?" Harry asked and Connie moved to sit decorously in the armchair.
"At dinner. I'd stepped out to call in to work for tomorrow and the house let me know Bob was awake," Connie said, "I thought they should finish their meal first, so I asked it not to tell them yet."
"Ok, so this will be the quick version," Harry sighed, "I promise I'll give you the full version, Pops, but not in front of the kids. There was a prophecy made, remember I told you that? Well, you met the conditions to fulfil it in the best possible way, but Mai was of the opinion that since I didn't know about it, we didn't need to be told. Bianca's court knew about it though, and part of the treaty with the vampires is that the courts and the council act on prophecy appropriately. She held Mai's feet to the fire, because it suited her purposes to do so that month, and I was summoned. Mai said that I could have the piece of skull that would break your curse, if I met her own performing monkey task."
"Bitch," Connie muttered and Harry shrugged.
"It was worth it," he stated, "But the breaking of the curse is not absolute. There are still conditions to be met. Pops can't cast magic for a year, and then after that if he casts anything Black the curse will return. If he lives his full life span, or if he dies early but blamelessly, then he will be able to move on at the end."
"A sort of parole," Bob mused, drawing his legs up under the blankets, folding them comfortably, "Harry, what a gift you have given me."
"You did all the hard work, Pops. You had to change, and do it without knowing that changing would redeem you," Harry smiled at him, "Hell, you adopted five kids in five minutes, not to mention raising me. The curse as it stood was unfair and I'm just glad that someone recognised that."
The door rattled and Harry hopped off the bed, recognising the warning for what it was. He slowed the stream of children down, warning them to be gentle, but Bob still found himself inundated with children eager to hug him and check that he was well. It was overwhelming and ridiculous and fed a part of his soul that had been so hungry for their hands and warmth he could barely stand it. Harry moved so he was sitting on the arm of Connie's chair, Mister balanced on his shoulder and Mouse standing beside her, both animals watching intently.
Harry made the kids back off a bit when it looked like Bob would be overwhelmed by the sensation of holding his children, and Julia took his pulse quietly, telling everyone to sit still in the stern tones of a nurse intent on making her patient feel better.
"Where is Pete?" Bob asked after a moment, realising that he'd lost track of their youngest. The children had settled around him, tucked as close as they could without overcrowding him. Sheryl looked around with a frown.
"He was here a minute ago. He was first through the door, you know how fast that child can run when he puts his mind to it," she grinned at Bob. Pete had, in fact, turned out to be something of a track star. Harry ran with him two evenings a week, longer distances than the boy ran at school. If Bob hadn't known it to be impossible, he'd have thought that Pete had inherited Harry's physique and stamina.
"He'll be nearby," Harry said gently, "He wouldn't leave, Pops. He might have needed a minute, is all."
Bob nodded, and smiled tiredly at them all, resting his head back against the headboard. Julia frowned and took his temperature with her hand, and he didn't protest the contact.
"He's alright dearest," Harry told her, "He's going to tire out more quickly than we're used to for a while, while he gets his strength back."
"This will help," Pete said from the door, carrying a tray. Bob eyed the plate of spaghetti, twin glasses of milk, and plate of toast. Evidently Pete had decided that Bob needed a meal, and he couldn't deny that he was hungry, but that was far too much for a first meal.
"I don't think I could manage all that," Bob smiled. Pete rolled his eyes fondly.
"The toast and milk is for you Pops," he informed Bob, "The pasta is for Pa, who hasn't eaten since he got back. You expended a lot of calories with that magic show thing, and then casting for Pops, and you haven't replaced any of them yet. I can feel your bones again Pa, and you know that's not good."
Harry blushed at the look Bob shot him and Connie scooped him down into the chair she was vacating, giving him a stern look.
"Pete is right, Harry," Bob said sternly, "For goddess' sake, child, have you ignored every lesson I've taught you about the cost of magic?"
"I'll eat, I'll eat," Harry grumbled, "No need to lecture!"
"Right kids," Connie said, "You say goodnight and go watch TV or something. They need to eat and then sleep some more, and Sheryl and I will take care of them."
There were a few grumbles, but the children kissed Bob goodnight, then Harry. Julia was last out, pausing at the edge of the rug.
"How am I supposed to go back to school tomorrow?" she whined. Bob's face fell at the thought of losing their eldest child so soon after he'd regained his body. Harry leaned over and took Julia's hand, squeezing it.
"School is on break in only a month dearest, and you can call every day," Harry promised, "Maybe you can sneak back a few times with the mat, ok?"
"Ok Pa. Get some rest," Julia squeezed his hand back and headed out, closing the door softly behind her. Bob turned his attention to the toast, a humble meal, but he knew better than to try something rich right away.
Connie and Sheryl had to almost feed them both, and Bob fretted as Harry was almost carried back to bed by his lover.
"He's just exhausted, Bob. Whatever you two did took a lot out of him," Connie smiled, straightening the covers over Harry, who was already sleeping. Bob nodded and turned on his side, facing his wizard, his own eyes drooping. Sheryl kissed his cheek and tugged the covers up over his shoulder too.
"Welcome home Bob," Sheryl whispered and the ladies left them to sleep under the watch of Mouse and Mister.
0o0o0
END