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hidden_longings in mafiabanter

Overcome (5/6)

Title:  Overcome (5/6)


Rating: NC-17


Warning: violence (lots of it), torture, cursing, and possibly some sexual content in later chapters. 


Relationships: Harry Dresden/John Marcone


Characters: Harry Dresden, Blackstaff Ebenezer McCoy, Karen Murphy, and John Marcone

Summary: When enemies from Harry’s past attack John, it pushes him over the edge.  Harry’s had enough of pretending to be anything other than what he is and, Court or Council, someone is going to pay.

Part of my Dresden AU Series.  This story comes after Monsters.

Important A/N Please Read!

FYI guys if you haven’t read my profile you might not know something about this series and its author.  I haven’t read all of the books. The last full story that I read and enjoyed was ‘White Night’.  So while I’ve had a couple of people commenting on the fact that McCoy is Dresden’s grandfather and wanting to know what I was going to do with that. As far as this story goes, the short answer is, nothing.  I had no idea about the family connection and while it is an interesting idea I prefer to keep McCoy as a mentor and not as a family member.  Another thing I did, which is actually kind of embarrassing, was that I said that Morningway was Harry’s uncle while in the books he’s just a guardian.  I must have gotten the TV Show and the books confused on this one point and for that I apologize but just consider it another portion of the story that is AU. 

End A/N   





HARRYMARCONEHARRYMARCONEHARRYMARCONE

Harry’s eyes opened in baleful slits as sunlight struck him full in the face.   Well the portion of his face that wasn’t buried in the smoky flannel that he had burrowed under at some point.

The hell?  Oh.

Harry squeezed his eyes shut again and contemplated hiding another murder.  This one would be much more difficult but perhaps if he…

“Harry?”

Harry couldn’t stop himself from scrambling away from the too near voice; the flannel wrapped in twists around his legs made it a difficult proposition. 

McCoy watched Harry quietly as he waited for the younger man to regain his composure.

The snarl that contorted Harry’s face turned it into a vicious mask that McCoy was finally able to look past as he studied the man that he had long given up hope on.

The lean face that stared up challengingly at him held aspects of both his mother and his father.  The too sharp cheekbones came directly from his mother, while the broad jaw and dark eyes could only have come from his father’s side of the family.

The hatred that McCoy saw blazing in Harry’s eyes though was all his own. 

The knowledge that he had unknowingly let such abuse happen to the young Morningway scion made his gut twist and churn uncomfortably only years of experience letting him hide that feeling away from the world.

“Come to bring me to my knee’s again Blackstaff?” 

Harry’s eyes nearly glowed as he watched the older man carefully.  He didn’t bother trying to stand; the wards around the house were as powerful as ever and he didn’t think he had the stamina to deal with another physical confrontation.

The magic that had reached into his mind and wrenched out his oldest and darkest memories had felt like tiny grasping little fingers digging into his memories with sharp claws and throwing them out of his mouth against his will.  He never wanted to have to deal with that feeling ever again.

“No.”   McCoy held something out to Dresden.

Harry’s eyes widened as he caught sight of the book that McCoy was clutching in his right hand. 

The Grimoire.

Harry reached towards the book with eager fingers, but when McCoy pulled back he recoiled as though stung.

Of course he wouldn’t just give you the goddamned book.  Harry eyed the older man with deepening distrust.  What would he have to give up to get that fucking Grimoire?   

“I need your word.”

“As what? A gentleman?”  Harry scoffed.

“As a wizard of integrity and honesty.”

“I’m afraid that is slightly beyond my purview.  What with my being a…What was it that you called me? Ah. A murderer, a rapist, and a mobster.”

“Well,” McCoy responded dryly “Two out of three is still a fairly good average when accusing a man of crimes after he broke into your home.”

“Make no mistake McCoy, I am all that you accused me of.  However if you require a pact on my part to ensure my very best behavior; I would be willing to do so.”

McCoy studied the younger man thoughtfully.  The hatred had burned out of his eyes leaving nothing but ash and the occasional flaring ember to remind him of what the man before him was capable of doing.

For the magical world pacts were different from giving someone your word. If a wizard gave his word both the spirit and the letter of the word had to be followed or horrific consequences would ensue.  A pact on the other hand had to be very carefully stated because if a magical being, wizard or otherwise, figured out how to work around it they were free and clear to do so. 

“Very well then Dresden.  A pact.  I Ebenezer McCoy, assert that this pact should be made.”

“I Harry Dresden, agree that this pact should be made.

“After the completion of three spells pulled from The Grimoire of Abramelin the Mage, Harry Dresden will use no other spells that he has found in this Grimoire, unless I allow it, for the rest of his existence.  He will return it to I Ebenezer McCoy as soon as is feasibly possible after the completion of the third spell.”

Harry’s eyes widened at the leniency of the pact and he quickly spoke up as though afraid that McCoy would add addendums to the gently phrased spell.

“As was agreed I will obey this pact for all of my existence and should I stray from its’ path I agree that my magic is forfeit.”

Harry could feel the wave of magic that exited both of them and bound together, for a moment leaving the air feeling heavy and too warm before dissipating gently. 

“Why didn’t you ask for more?”  Harry’s voice was subdued as he stared at the older man, eyes unsure and the softest that McCoy had ever seen them.

McCoy sighed deeply as he studied the young wizard in front of him.  One whose power and influence on the world in which they lived had only begun.

“Because Harry you are a good man.  Or at least you will be given the opportunity.  This is your opportunity.  Do not squander it.”

Once again McCoy held out the Grimoire to the younger man, and this time didn’t pull back when Harry reached for it. 

Dresden grabbed the book from McCoy’s fingers as quickly as he could and loped to the door as quickly as he could manage, feeling the wards releasing him from his prison as he stepped towards the threshold.

“Oh and kid.”

Harry turned toward McCoy warily.  The elderly man had turned to face him, his face burning with its own form of fire and his lips drawing back into a fearsome smile.

“Make sure they burn.”

Harry’s face lit up with unholy glee as he turned and left the house.

“To ashes, Blackstaff.  To ashes.”

JOHNDRESDENJOHNDRESDENJOHNDRESDENJOHNDRESDEN

Harry strode the sterile hospital scene once more.  A small satchel lay bulging on his side as he swept through the hallways like a breaking storm.

When he stepped into the private room that housed his lover the first thing that he saw was Murphy leaning over the metal railing of Marcone’s bed and trying to clip a piece of hair from the back of his head.

Eyes scanning his lover Harry picked out the stained fingers that meant Marcone had been fingerprinted as well.  Gently placing the satchel next to the visitor’s chair, Harry crossed the room in three ground eating strides.  He struck Murphy across the face with the back of his hand sending her tumbling to the ground with a thud.

“Not the brightest bitch in the box, are you?”

Murphy gingerly wiped her face, her arm coming away with a smear of red on it from the slow trickle that was starting to come out of her nose from the force of the blow.

“You just assaulted a police officer.  I’m sure you’ll have an interesting time explaining that to the judge.”

“Don’t make me laugh Lieutenant.  Taking fingerprints and hair from a man in a coma is more of an assault than anything I’ve done to you.  I don’t know what you thought you were going to accomplish but I promise it stops here.”

Pulling a lighter from his pocket Harry picked up the pieces of paper that had his lover’s fingerprints and lit them on fire.  The scissors were crushed underneath one of his booted feet and tossed into the nearest trashcan.

“Hey!”

“Get lost.  I’m amazed Hendricks’ hasn’t kicked your ass to the curb before this.”

Murphy smirked briefly before she got to her feet and headed towards the door.

Right before she left she threw a comment over her shoulder that made Dresden growl with frustration.

“You’ve been missing for over a day Dresden obviously you’re out of the loop.  Hendricks’ had to go to the police station; the FBI’s looking at him as a prime suspect.  They’ll be by to see you next.  I’ll make sure of it.”

That woman.  She…she… Someday he really was going to have the pleasure of killing her.

“Uh Boss I hate to cut whatever fume fest you’re having short but if she’s telling the truth we might want to start the ritual now.”

Shaking free of the red that had started to engulf his vision, Harry picked up the bag he had brought in with him and pulled Bob and the Grimoire free of its’ confines.  He put Bob on the chair so he’d have a clear view of the room and placed the Grimoire in front of the skull so that the air spirit could have a good view of it.

“Fine, death and dismemberment later, spell casting now.  But first.”

Harry walked up to the closed door and gently clasped its handle.  Putting a small amount of magical pressure into it ensured that whoever tried to open the door would be met with a red-hot handle and a locked one at that.

“All right, let’s begin.”

The stiff leather pages of the Grimoire parted easily and it only took a couple of moments for Bob to tell him to stop turning.

“This would be a hell of a lot easier if I could read Old English.”

“You sure about this boss? I mean this thing’s non-reversible and Marcone might have something to say about you making this decision for him.”

“And if I don’t do this there’s a good chance that Marcone won’t have an opinion, ever again. About anything.”

“…”

“Now, what’s first?“

“A ring of unbroken salt around both of you.”

Harry pulled the large canister of salt free of the bag and untwisted its’ lid, only to be stymied by the hospital beds close relationship with the wall.

Teeth pressed into a taut line, Dresden’s eyes flicked from the machine that was steadily bleeping along with Marcone’s heart and the magically padlocked door.

This would have to be quick.

Pulling his pentagram off, Dresden allowed his magic free reign in the small room.  The lights were the first to go, they blew in a shower of sparks that left the room only dimly lit by the sun that peeked in through the closed blinds.  The wall clock stopped ticking without fanfare.  The machine that kept track of Marcone’s heartbeat wasn’t so lucky.  For a couple of instants it rang out every alarm that it was capable of before breaking off with a sharp squeal.  Black smoke erupted from its’ interior smelling strongly of burnt plastic.  

As Dresden picked up his lover as well as a pillow he heard the pounding feet that meant that the nurses were on their way.  When he had the pillow situated where he wanted it Harry gently set John down, cradling his head in the soft foam. 

The handle turned uselessly on the door; followed by a yelp of pain. The nurse didn’t give up though and almost immediately Harry heard the nurse pounding on door.

“Sir! Sir, are you all right in there?

No time.

The salt went down in a lopsided, but unbroken ring around both of them and Dresden turned to Bob for his next instructions.

“Next bits going to be kind of tricky. You need to mix your auras together as closely as you can. Skin to skin contact would be best, so I suggest taking off your tops and cuddling up.”

Harry ripped off shirt, ignoring the flying buttons before quickly reaching beneath Marcone to untie the strings of the hospital gown that he had been dressed in.  Dresden desperately tried to steer clear of the bandages that were wrapped around his lovers’ chest.

Pulling the chilled shoulder blades into close contact with his chest, Dresden allowed himself a moment to just ground himself in his lover’s scent, burying his face in the bristling buzz cut of black and gray hair before he turned towards Bob again and waited for his next set of instructions.

Harry’s magic had instantly become less of a maelstrom as he had wound himself around his lover, it probed gently at the usually receptive aura that pulsed steadily around John Marcone’s body giving him a presence that could always be felt by anyone he came into contact with, be they magical or mundane.   

This time was no different.  The two auras swirled around the lovers in an ecstatic union.

“What the hell do you mean you can’t open the fucking door?” The wooden door barely even muffled the ill-tempered roar. 

Oh good, Murphy was back.  This could only end well.

“So get the fucking fire axe. There are people who want this man dead it’s not like we can just leave him in there unprotected with one of the men that’s on the suspect list.”

“Bob!”

“Right last bit.  You’ve got to slit his left wrist and your right, doesn’t matter which order and then you’ll drink down some of his blood and he’ll drink down some of yours.  Once that’s done just intone the incantation three times and voila you’ve gone and done it.”

“What’s the incantation?”

You’ll know it after you drink the blood, maybe.”

“And if I don’t know?”

“You’re not compatible enough with each other and you’ve pissed off a lot of nurses and cops for no good reason.”

“Great.”

“What can I say? It’s all about soul mates, and destiny, so it’s bound to be a little wibbly wobbly on the whole outcome thing. So go on. Drink vampiric Santa drink. No one wants a skinny Santa.”

“You’re a fucking maniac.”

“I always take on my master’s most charming characteristics.”

An alarming slamming thud at the door brought Harry back to the problem at hand and he managed to slice an oozing wound in their respective wrists with the small switchblade that he kept in his coat pocket.  He quickly brought Marcone’s wrist up to his lips and began to suckle on it as quickly as he could. Fighting to restrain his gag reflex as the coppery blood filled his mouth like sucking on a bright new penny.

After he had drank what felt like a gallon of the red stuff, Dresden pulled back as his magic began to react violently to the influx of the older man’s aura into his own body.

Bringing up his wrist, Harry had to gently pull open Marcone’s mouth before he clenched his fist.  The tendons of his wrist flexed and twisted and the skin gaped around the wound breaking up any clotting that had taken place during his unorthodox drink.

Marcone’s lax mouth filled with blood and for a moment Dresden was afraid that John’s automatic reflexes would fail to kick in.  But then miracle of miracles, Harry saw the muscles in John’s throat convulse as he swallowed down the thick liquid.

As the last drop of blood went down Marcone’s throat the previously comatose man’s eyes flung themselves wide open.

The money green eyes seemed to glow and darken until the only green that could be seen was so dark as to be almost black as they met Harry’s he could feel the words well up inside of him. 

Vivemus. Amamus. Semper.”

John’s back arched and Dresden winced as he heard joints crackle and shift.

Vivemus. Amamus. Semper.”

A wood-splintering crack seemed to shake the room and Dresden could see the sharp edge of the axe as it crashed through the surprisingly solid door.  As he opened his mouth to say the last line of the incantation he heard the low baritone of Marcone’s joining him.

“Vivemus. Amamus. Semper.”

As the door finally gave way with a tremendous crash Gentleman Johnny Marcone pulled himself to his feet and casually wiping a stray line of blood off of his chin met the stunned eyes of Lieutenant Karen Murphy calmly.

“Is there a problem Lieutenant?”

The only thing a bare-chested and still blood stained Harry Blackstone Copperfield Dresden could do was sit on the floor and laugh and laugh.

HARRYMARCONEHARRYMARCONEHARRYMARCONEHARRY

Chapter Notes AKA Thoughts

Jeez maybe I should just call this chapter ‘The Eyes Have It.” Considering how focused I was on them this chapter.  

Look it’s not that I hate women. I happen to be one so that would be counterproductive. I do however intensely dislike Murphy.  No joke. She’s rotten to Harry in the books so I feel like being rotten to her here in my version of their world. 

Ooh BTW I have little to no experience with hospitals and illness but I do realize that Marcone would have been hooked up to other things, not just that one machine.  But this is fantasy and fantasy don’t need no stinking pee bags or adult diapers you hear me!?! Or saline drips. Or liquid medicine…you get the idea.

Everyone’s seen ‘Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer’ right? The animated one with the elf that wants to be a dentist, uh if not the whole Santa line may not be as familiar as I might have hoped.

Translation of the Latin is roughly: ‘We live. We love. Forever.’ 





Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 6

Comments

I love the story. I never liked murphy either, and can totally see her acting more like this if she ever thought Dresden was evil. I think her face busting into the room with Marcone awake and Harry laughing would be hilarious. thanks for sharing