The Midnight Rider (sabinelagrande) wrote,
The Midnight Rider

Oh, Harry Dresden. Never change.

Title: The Want of a Nail
Summary: Harry's spell doesn't go exactly as planned.
Fandom: The Dresden Files (books)
Word Count: 1531
Rating/Warnings: R, dubcon
Pairing: Harry/Everyone
Disclaimer: The Dresden Files/Codex Alera is copyright Jim Butcher. This story is licensed under the Creative Commons as derivative, noncommercial fiction.
A/N: For rounds_of_kink, for which you can still sign up! And claim one of my prompts! Cause nobody has! And you wouldn't want to deprive the world of John/Daniel gunplay, would you? Thanks to beccastareyes and theniwokesoftly for clearing up my canon confusion. Also, this is my second attempt at the fandom and first attempt at writing magic in the style of the books, so forgive me if it's a little off.

Okay, this time? It was my own fault.

That whole business with Susan had just been a misunderstanding. Anybody could mistake a love potion for a transportation one. And while that had been a pretty difficult situation at the time, it had mostly worked out for the best.

For a while, anyway.

This time, I just really didn't see how things were going to work out at all.

Right. Backing up-

I couldn't sleep. It's a pretty common affliction of people who spend most of their lives in mortal peril. And even though, as of about seven that night, there was no mortal peril headed my direction- other than the general threat posed by the many vampires, faeries, wizards, gangsters, and the like that I'd pissed off over the years- it was clear that I wouldn't be passing out any time soon. I also didn't want to be bumbling around the apartment making a lot of noise, not with my apprentice sacked out on my couch recovering from getting slimed by a giant mutant lizard thing.

Don't ask.

So, I threw on my robe and went down to my basement lab. "Wake up, Bob," I called, and the bleached-white skull on the shelf winked to life, two orange lights illuminating its eye sockets.

"What'll it be, Boss? Love potion? Seduction spell? Instant Bacchanalia?"

I rubbed my hands together. "How about a good old Net of Good Tidings?"

"I wish I had eyes, just so that I could roll them at you."

The Net of Good Tidings is a pretty elementary sending, albeit one that can be a little tricky. All it does, basically, is send out good vibes, sort of a karmic nudge. For a limited period of time, it tips the balance in someone's favor- it's not like it'll make them win the lottery or anything, but maybe they'll find the perfect parking space or be the ninth caller to WXRX.

Doing it at this time of night, it probably only meant they'd sleep more soundly than they would've otherwise, because the magic that powered it would dissipate at first light. Or who knew? Those of us who tangle with the paranormal don't really keep business hours; maybe it would help.

Usually, to impact someone, you need something of theirs; in this case, though, they had something of mine. My apartment's protected by a series of wards- mostly stuff intended to make a scene, since I'd really rather not bring the building down- but the people closest to me have tokens that allow them to pass through, in case I'm not there to bring them down. For the purposes of this spell, it was more than enough to get a lock on them.

Bob walked me through the steps, reluctantly and with many unprintable asides about what I could be doing instead with a couple of virgins and a bottle of tequila. The spell required me to make an actual net, albeit a small one; never let it be said that wizards are above macramé. I focused my thoughts, thinking of all the people I trusted enough to let into my home, tying a knot in the net for each of them.

That done, I put the net into a plain Pyrex dish- it wasn't part of the spell, I just really didn't want ashes all over the lab- lined with a clean white cloth. I touched the net, putting my will behind it, and the little net crackled into cheery-looking fire. Before it could be consumed, I waved my hand over it, scattering the active ingredient into the flames.

Except that the smoke, which should've been a soothing green color, was a lurid pink.

"Uh oh," Bob said quietly.

That was a really, really bad sign.

"Harry?" Molly called from upstairs.

"Go back to sleep, grasshopper," I told her, turning back to the skull. "What do you mean, uh oh?" I could hear Molly climbing down into the basement behind me, despite what'd I'd told her.

"What was the last thing you added?" Bob asked.

I looked at the bottle in my hand. "Uh oh."

"You smell really good," Molly said, getting way, way too close to me.

"Bob, what did I just do?" I asked.

"Are you sure you want to know?" he hedged. "I mean, you could just relax and enjoy it."

"Bob." Molly's clever fingers were already undoing the belt of my robe and pushing it off my shoulders. I didn't have anything underneath it but a pair of pants, because, strangely enough, I hadn't been expecting anybody to come in and start touching on me.

"It's just that it wasn't so much Good Tidings you sent out as, er, Seduction."

I gaped- partly in shock, and partly because Molly picked that moment to bite me in the frigging nipple. "I didn't even know there was a Net of Seduction!"

"You never asked," Bob protested. "Relax, it shouldn't have been strong enough to affect anyone who was sleeping."

"It sure as hell affected Molly!"

She lifted her mouth from my chest. "I was getting a drink of water."

I heard the door to my apartment opening. "Dresden?" someone called from upstairs.

"Oh, no," I said, covering my face with one hand.

Pretty soon, the angelically blonde head of Karrin Murphy popped into view. "What the hell, Harry?"

"Stay up there," I told her. "Please."

Of course, she came down anyway.

"I was in the neighborhood," she said, almost casually.

And then she jumped me.

You've got to understand: I'm tall. Really tall. If I wore the right shoes, I could brush up against seven feet. And Murph? She's five feet nothing, maybe even a little under; when we stand next to each other, we look like the start of a dirty joke. She's strong as hell, though, and in a fair fight, she could easily kick my ass.

So when I say that she climbed me like I was a tree, I'm really not kidding.

Molly had moved out of Murphy's way so that she could clamber up and wrap her legs around my waist; now she was back, kissing my shoulder determinedly and grinding herself against my leg. I couldn't help but notice that one of my hands had somehow gotten itself tangled up in her short, brilliantly fuchsia hair. The other had, without my knowledge or consent, migrated to Murphy's ass; but, really, it was hold Murph up or send all three of us crashing to the concrete floor. Murphy didn't seem to notice or mind, though, being totally intent on kissing me as hard as she possibly could- which, it turned out, was pretty damn hard.

It wasn't the only thing, either.

By that point, I was pretty convinced I was going to hell for all eternity, but surely things couldn't get much worse.

I really should have known better than to think that, because as soon as I did, I heard tires screeching to a halt outside, followed by the sound of the door opening again. Whoever it was didn't announce themselves; all of a sudden, something human-sized dropped into the basement, bypassing the ladder entirely.

"Empty night, Harry," my stupidly attractive half-brother swore, standing up and flicking non-existent dust from his strategically ripped, hilariously expensive jeans. "You're throwing an orgy, and you didn't invite me?"

"I'm wouldn't-" I started to protest, when I realized he was just winding me up. "My spell backfired!"

"Sure, it did," he drawled, aping hurt. "If you needed help getting laid, you could've just asked."

Even though I probably should have been, I really wasn't worried about Karrin and Molly. My brother- well, as White Court vampires go, he's kinda broken, so it wasn't like he was going to feed on either of them. The most that would possibly happen was that they might get a little buzzed.

But I was really very worried about me.

"I thought you loved me," I said stupidly.

"You're my brother," he explained patiently. "I don't love you like that." I was all set to argue with him about how wrong all of this was, but suddenly it seemed like a really good idea to go along with whatever he wanted.

I mean, he wasn't using his vampiric powers of suggestion or anything. He just had his hand down my pants.

"Bob, what the hell do I do?" I cried out.

"The blonde, while she does the young one and the vampire watches," Bob replied, which, in fairness, was pretty much what I was expecting him to say.

"The elemental makes good plans," Thomas said, slinking to the floor and taking my pants with him.

"Thank you," Bob said, clearly preening.

"Bob, this is serious!" I pleaded, after a brief and very entertaining pause for another kiss- if you could even qualify it as such, it was more like a full frontal mouth assault- from Murphy.

"Hey, I clearly said 'butterfly wings.' Not my fault you picked up Spanish fly instead. This doesn't even concern me."

"I hate you so much," I hissed at him.

"Yeah, yeah. Turn your head. You're blocking the good part."

Yep. I was screwed.


This entry was automagically crossposted from comment count unavailable comments over there.
Tags: challenges, dresden_files, fic, het, ot4 = win, slash
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