John hadn't been making a large issue over the fact that he was heading out camping over the weekend; he hadn't hidden it like a secret. He hadn't done any of these things because he wasn't stupid, and he was extremely good at keeping secrets
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Harry's pack contained an air mattress, a fishing rod, food, ale, water, a coffee pot and coffee, and--at the suggestion of the clerk at the store, a first aid kit.
And naturally, he'd shoved a drumstick wand in his pocket and was carrying a hockey stick staff. A substantial number of ingredients for magical spells were in his pack as well. He did have some practicing to do, after all.
He was rather looking forward to John's reaction. He'd rarely met a mortal who was so fascinated by magic.
And one more thing--well, a few more things--that weren't in his pack at all.
"Hello, John," he said, his eyes lighting up as he smiled. "Good to see you."
It wasn't easy hugging a man who was carrying an enormous backpack, but Harry tried.
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He looked at Harry, his smile muted but genuine. "Likewise. Shall we be off?" He nodded his head toward the deeper woods, away from town, towards where the boundaries shifted and distance became an approximate thing.
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Not that it was certain, mind. But John was good at planning.
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"I suppose I should start the campfire," he said lazily, kissing John's ear. "We're going to have to cook dinner at some point."
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Lofty goals, considering that all he wanted to do was lie in the shadows under the trees for at least another hour.
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"Well, fortunately, I don't have to budge to make the campfire. I think I'm dry enough to create that right now."
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Not that it didn't give him a thrill of delight to see Harry work magic, but at some point a man had to draw the line.
"Camping is about being inconvenienced," John lectured him, leaning his head back and shutting his eyes.
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They had managed to not duck one another in the pond, and actually caught a handful of small, energetic fish; something like trout, they looked edible. Those were spitted over a camp-fire, cooking under John's somewhat paranoid eye while he simultaneously tried not to burn a camp-pot full of vegetable soup.
Behind him, Harry was unpacking; he saw a handkerchief, the glint of glass. Things clinked.
He looked over his shoulder: "What are you doing?"
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Harry turned and grinned. "Which means, John, that you're going to get to see a hell of a lot of magic this weekend. Feel free to ask questions."
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And then he turned back to the fire to snatch the pot of soup off before it could boil down into sludge and put it on a rock; the fish were carefully taken down and scraped onto two plates to cool. Not elegant, but food, dammit.
"Solid illusions? I don't know that I've heard of that."
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He put the magical ingredients aside for the moment and made his way over to the campfire.
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"I should probably eat like this more often," Harry said about halfway through his second bowl of cereal. "So. What are we going to do today? or are we just winging it?"
He couldn't suppress a pleased and happy grin as he gazed at John. To tell the truth, he really didn't try.
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"You have magic to work on. We could look for plants that would be useful to you. And past that... winging it."
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He sighed. "Using too much magical power in a fight--not a good idea. You've seen me when I'm stripped of magic."
**As per the Monkey King.
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"I'd like to accompany you on the hike, but... if I do come along I'm afraid the pace will have to be a bit more sedate than yesterday," he said apologetically. "If that's not acceptable I can stay closer to camp, and you can explain what you've found to me when you get back. I promise to try to react with more.. aplomb tonight."
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