Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

WONKY CROSS	By : JanisJ Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male Views: 59358 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 8
Disclaimer: Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I am making no money from this fanfiction.

Chapter List
- 17
- 18
- 19
A/N: Thanks for all the reads, rates and reviews! I love it when people take the time to write a little note— just know, you raise your Karma score every time you do by making another so happy :) I love that!

Silversablerain, you cracked up with your description and wanting the maintenance man to go, and flattered me as well…. SO many times I think of something while driving in the car and am laughing like I’m crazy— the people in other cars must think I’m nuts (actually, I AM. But in a good way ;)

And YAY to all my fellow “fanficifilias” that liked the little VOY character moments which tickled me so! Cuz you know, we read these M/M stories so we can kinda be voyeurs in a way…. (It’s not creepy…. shut up! It’s hot! :)

Hope you enjoy the next little bit!

~O~

FOCUS, PART 1

The luncheon was awkward, to say the least.

It was no small mercy that McGonagall’s terse speech at the beginning of the semi-formal gathering appeared to ignore the salacious spectacle that had just occurred at her grand unveiling of the moving staircases; everyone was still titillated, but also a little intimidated by the brusque witch’s demeanor so kept the whispered comments to a minimum. The entirety of the original crew tried to make animated, superficial small-talk during the meal and not make it obvious they were sneaking peeks at the two men who scampered in late.

Indeed, almost everyone in attendance had been a student of Minerva’s in one generation or another and it was a well-known fact that she was able to reduce the most confident witch or wizard to regressing to a cowering, quivering first-year when she drew on the aura of her immense innate power and authority.

(Neither of the newly “outed” couple were aware that she had used the time they’d spent reassembling themselves by urging her audience to secrecy before the randy couple arrived; to ensure their privacy, all she had to do was remind them in a scolding tone of Potter’s selfless sacrifices for them all and demanded them to allow him this, albeit regrettably timed, indiscretion and NOT leak it to the press.

No one was quite sure what had amused them more— the almost comic public display of horniness from the two wizards or the normally stern, disciplinarian professor displaying a soft spot of epic proportions over such an egregious impropriety, ultimately revealing her protective mother-feline nature for two of her charges.)

Charlie and Harry were pleasantly surprised by the lack of interrogation. Out of respect, they laid low and went with the flow gratefully, keeping their usual covert shoulder-nudges and moon-eyes to an absolute minimum.

The meeting concluded with all assembled getting a run-down of what the next evening’s events would consists of— the content, sequential order of honours and awards and the expected speeches. After the crowd dispersed (with a silent smirk and wink from Roger Fields to his former fuck-buddy at the Entrance Hall doors), the Headmistress called her two besotted lions aside with a stony expression.

Through pursed lips she informed them in no uncertain terms, “When school resumes for the Fall term, I expect no innocent eyes EVER be subjected to your…. activities. While I have been lenient so far and turned a blind eye to your recent…. joy-- and am truly happy that you have found it, Potter--” (her voice softened a fraction only to have it harden once more a split-second later) “I will ABSOLUTELY NOT TOLERATE such indecent cavorting in an environment that houses young ones!”

Her boot-heels drummed off on the floor in her vehemence as her balled fists shook.

“I must impress the seriousness of this matter. No one under-age is to witness anything of the sort! Not only does your reprehensible behaviour set a bad example and flout school policy, but I cannot abide by it once the students return.” Charlie and Harry hung their heads in shame for causing her turmoil while she had shown them such a kindness. “I hope you know you will leave me no other choice but to banish you from the grounds. Permanently.”

They shuffled their feet into the cobblestones like two apprehended truant twelve-year-olds caught out after curfew and by being dressed-down in such a manner. They should have been more careful and respectful. Both understood their shenanigans couldn’t continue if they were to stay at the Castle and children were present; while Harry completed his lost seventh year and Charlie was allowed to work with the animals on the campus, they would have to be on their best behaviour.

Also, neither wizard had any shadow of a doubt of her sincerity. The witch never made idle threats.

“Yes, Ma’am”, “Of course, Professor,” they mumbled in unison, feeling the distinct sting of guilt and discomfort, all while finding the toes of their shoes the most interesting things ever.

They didn’t catch the twitch of a smile through her pursed lips or Dumbledore-esque twinkle in her eyes as she dismissed them in her signature gruff brogue, “See to it! I trust with having two separate quarters to choose from-- that both have doors that are able to remain closed and warded, mind you-- that will be sufficient?”

They beat a hasty retreat at her dismissal, stammering apologies and promises, never realizing just how much the normally stern woman found their youthful enthusiasm and subsequent sheepishness endearing.

~O~

Charlie had to blink away the black spots in his vision. Again.

It seemed that every flash-bulb ever manufactured had exploded at them as they entered the Great Hall. They didn’t let up all through Headmistress McGonagall’s formal speech, the presentation of accolades, his boyfriend’s muddled but brief thanks to all the invitees for all the collaborated effort of the restorative team and financial backers, and the barrage of questions fired at “The Saviour” during the meal and afterwards. It was as if no one cared to document the entire occasion as a whole, just capture images of THE famous Harry Potter’s reactions to everything.

Every available lens was focused on the hero that had been so elusive since before and (especially) after the Battle of Hogwarts. His beautiful lover was more than obviously uncomfortable with all the attention— it was just about killing him! The redhead was positively growling at the rude intrusiveness and lack of tact from all those bloody vultures attacking and picking apart such a sweet soul….

All Charlie wanted to do was hug Harry and shield him from all the unpleasantness but he couldn’t.

He didn’t resent his partner’s lack of making their relationship status public and had always encouraged him to go at his own pace with coming to terms with things, but he wished that he could tell the demanding public to just ‘back the FUCK OFF’! He never felt so powerless and impotent to protect a loved one!

Harry was overwhelmed although he knew he’d only put off the inevitable-- it was always only a matter of time before his quietude was shattered and he had to face the wider world and their insatiable thirst for every last detail of his life.

And as grueling and taxing as all that pin-pointed focus was on him (no matter how much he insisted that it was the efforts of many, MANY brave people and his evasive answers only served to make them hound him heavier), it was the fear that Charlie would shy away and decline to stay with him through the circus of his life that took the most toll.

(It would have been difficult enough as it was to face this particular anniversary on its own without all that, thank you very much!)

By the time they finally made it to the Tower, Harry was so exhausted, distraught and despondent he had Charlie truly anxious; the famous man was practically catatonic! The redhead could only help him out of his stiff dress-robes, lead him to bed and then cuddle him as they dropped wearily onto the mattress. And worry in the darkness. He was left to wonder uneasily what his brilliant lover meant by simply saying (in practically a dry-sob) “I’m sorry” before he succumbed to a deep sleep.

It was obvious by his serious and somber tone the brunet was not just apologizing for being too tired for sex. (Well, that and the fact that in his unconscious state, he was somehow paradoxically desperately clinging to his tattooed skin yet simultaneously trying to will himself to allow Charlie the chance to slip away.) The muscle-bound man was confused, but wasn’t about to let him go.

He just held on tighter and resolved to talk it through later (though he never got the chance, seeing as the young man in question diverted attention and such topics every time there was a pause; the devious little minx-almost-sorted-into-Slytherin used snogging and sex to shut down the possibility of conversations when he sensed the mood getting too serious.)

~O~

Gone was any of the previous (and precious) silence they’d encountered so far while living at the Castle. Charlie had expected a fair amount of attention when they were at the Memorial Gala, but he had not expected so much crazed hoopla from what should have been a simple trip to Diagon.

They’d made it into the bank more or less easily (and endured some major stink-eye action from the tellers that remembered the celbrity’s disrespectful, daring break-in and subsequent destructive break-out) but by the time Harry’s withdrawal business was finished, there were reporters peppered all the way through the mob that had rushed them on the marble steps of Gringott’s.

The blinding camera flashes were out once again in full force and the accompanying journalists were hurling questions and accusations at Harry with a vengeance; it seemed they were all out for his blood to use to print whatever they story they wanted to write.

The crowd’s reaction to this sudden exposure was mixed…. And it was daunting and nerve-wracking. They had thought the Memorial was hectic and chaotic but that seemed almost tame compared to this-- this was a feeding frenzy and downright mayhem!

There were everything from jeers, insults and arguments that the public hadn’t had unlimited access to him to gratitude, adulation and claims of undying love.

This time there were masses of people yelling angrily of unknown things in the past that he couldn’t possibly have taken care of and wands being drawn demanding retribution of family members he’d been unable to save. Conversely, there were star-struck people clamoring, reaching out trying to get a touch of “The Saviour’s” skin or grab his clothes in reverence, fanatically bowing down to thank him.

Charlie’s initial Shield Charm fizzled a few minor hexes but some attempts to bestow as favours upon “The Chosen One’’ made it through; the manually thrown (and without ill-intent-magic) bras and warm, moist pairs of knickers hit them-- all amidst hysterical screaming as if dying in rapture that rivaled those fangirls of the Beatles in the late sixties.

The overall energy level was volatile and dangerous-- not only for them, but between the differing views of the factions within the impromptu audience as well.

It was too much. He could feel his beloved trembling. He knew he big-hearted brunet was afraid for the people and not so much for himself; if he had to wager a guess, the young man also feared what wild magic he might unleash if he was pushed too far.

Now Charlie really could audibly growl and push his man behind his broad back and fend everyone off with his wand at the ready; he knew spells that dispelled aggressive Dragon behaviour— including one that could cast a vocalization that was a purr/scream/snarl that instinctually evoked obedience universally across magical species, humans included. This sound stilled the largest, most in-their-prime reptiles no matter what. Stupid Wizards and Witches be damned.

There was collective gasp and then an amazing sudden silence.

No one knew if it was the bone-chilling pitched tone that erupted from the unknown man’s weapon, the sheer muscle and scowling determination of the dragon-handler’s battle-ready stance, the power of the reputation of ‘Potter-Who-Defeated-The-Darkest-Lord’ (who also had his wand at the ready) or the sudden pops of Apparition of several Aurors that made everyone stop in their tracks….. but it was welcome to Harry that it was enough to make people pause.

He gladly took the protection. He wanted to hide.....

(And then he worried even more that Charlie would wash his hands of him for being more trouble than he was worth!)

Charlie spun him away in a Side-Along to their last destination of the day, determined to finish conducting their business so they would not have to make a return trip.

The ‘squeezed-through-a-tube’ sensation spit them out by the visitor’s entrance to the Ministry and they hustled inside, eager to get registered as fast as possible before a new set of scavengers spotted them, all too zealous to hassle the frazzled pair further with unwelcome pestering. Luckily, the man at the desk didn’t seem to care who had appeared before him and lazily waved them on through once he weighed the wands and gave them their temporary visitor badges; they were grateful that he immediately shifted his attention once again to the wireless that was broadcasting an inter-UK Quidditch match.

The young twenty-something woman in the reception area of the Portkey office was gushing and tripping over herself the second she saw who her next patron was. The simpering and stammering—complete with hair primping, batted eyelashes and then her elbows pressed towards her waist causing her breasts to induce more ample cleavage would have been almost funny if they both weren’t so anxious from so many people having too many impossibly unpredictable reactions to having “The Chosen One” in their midst.

(Harry distractedly but dutifully autographed a Prophet picture of him blinking owlishly at the Memorial event for her, if only just to get the ball rolling on their errand. Charlie was amused-- and just a tinge bewildered-- that her lust and attention hadn’t been directed or spread towards him in the least; he wasn’t used to his charisma being so disregarded completely.)

The short, fat bald man that helped them set up their multiple-use, voice-activated Portkeys made a big show to affect indifference, his sneer practically daring him to make a fuss full of arrogant accusations for not treating Harry as a hero. That suited the beleaguered brunet just fine, much preferring the barely civil cold shoulder.

(Obviously, this disagreeable man had been displeased with the outcome of The War. He’d probably had some promised promotion or high aspiration dashed when the anti-Muggle-born era of the Voldemort-fuelled Ministry fell. There were a lot of those disgruntled malcontents still in office, according to Arthur-- though none outspoken or foolish enough to lose what employment they’d managed to hold onto while Kingsley promoted his new regime.)

The portly wizard stiffly wrote the coordinates to outside of the gates of Hogwarts and the precise longitude and latitude at the Dragon Preserve in Romania Charlie provided; this way, over the summer they could go back and forth as necessary, as when Hagrid wanted to visit Olympe and they needed to take care of the game-keeper’s responsibilities over the Castle’s livestock but also Blanca and Fang in his absence. They could also more easily Floo through the Tower for family obligations.

“Password?” the stout Ministry-drone drawled, sounding irritated bored, holding his wand to the base of two punch cards that held ten separate trips each, huffing as if they’d kept him waiting an hour when it was only a split-second as they grinned at each other and said in unison, “Smeck.”

They hadn’t talked or agreed upon it beforehand, but it seemed the exact perfect thing to say at that moment, something special just between them:

‘Smeck’ was their code for wishing they could bestow a kiss upon the other but there were people around that they couldn’t or wouldn’t do it in front of; it was a term of endearment, stemming from some strange hybrid that evolved from ‘smooch’ ‘smack’ and ‘peck’. It was their secret term for the game they made of producing the loudest (very childish sounding) closed-mouth kiss behind closed doors and away from prying eyes they could possibly give each other— that they couldn’t help but remember and relish the memory-- so much so that it got its own name.

“Now, each individually,” the man rolled his eyes as he cast a ‘Portus’ on each one and glowed blue while their voices were recorded. He thrust the thin parchments at them and snippily accepted the Galleons Harry plunked onto his desk.

Not wanting to spend one more unpleasant moment in the surly man’s presence, they hurried past the still tittering receptionist calling out well-wishes after them. The second they exited the office, the camera flashes and cacophony exploded at them again.

Charlie just barreled through the crowd, throwing elbows and knees from the side that wasn’t clutching Harry to him (and making sure that Harry’s other side was up against the plain tiled wall); the Witches and Wizards made appalled and affronted noises that they bumped into but the couple paid them no mind as they made a bee-line to the row of communal Floos.

The protective redhead was mumbling and grumbling about glamours and disguises and berating himself for the lack of foresight all the way across the edge of the Atrium. Harry was too panicked to think so he let Charlie lead and call out their destination when they stepped into the fireplace.

Harry could only blink in surprise when they landed on the hearth rug of The Burrow in a tangle of limbs— and was met by the shocked face of his former wife.

~O~

A/N: Yeah, well I HALF lied…. We didn’t get to Romania in this one, but we are on our way. I keep having all these ideas for chapters I want to write (and have planned out in my head) but they will take forever due to RL work…. This seemed like a good place to cut it for now, and I hope that my readers will be heartened to know a lot of the next part is already written…. Just needs a bit more time…. And hope that you guys might be intrigued by what Ginny has to say for herself!! (Enough to come back and see if she can redeem herself—I’m still deciding that)
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