Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

WONKY CROSS	By : JanisJ Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male Views: 59363 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 8
Disclaimer: Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I am making no money from this fanfiction.

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
- 3
BLINKERED

~0~

Harry and Ginny were to be wed on August twelfth, the day after she turned seventeen (and legal).

The month of May in the wake of the Final Battle was brutal.

During the aftermath of The War there were so many conflicting emotions! There was shock and grief for those who were wounded and dead; there was relief and elation that the worst was finally over. There were pieces to pick up and relationships to reconnect and repair; there were arrangements to be made and a future to face. There were trials and suffering in all forms-- the trauma touched everyone in multi-varied ways.

There was the general public to avoid for unwanted adulation and the press for all the interviews they wanted The Trio to make and none of them wanted to give; the least of which was to have to explain their long absence from view while things steadily fell apart in vague terms-- at the most, divulging the concept of Horcruxes lest any unscrupulous, greedy person attempt the same twisted version of immortality.

Anyone who was on The Order’s and the Side of Light (in varying degrees due to the intensity of their roles) had to hide or use ‘constant vigilance’ since the last of the “bad guys” hadn’t been rounded up yet and everyone knew revenge would be high on those jilted souls. Though Harry couldn’t complain; the Weasley’s farm was a lot better and a much more comforting warded fortress than Number 12 Grimmauld Place had ever been!

Some were taking the sequestering better than others. Harry, Ron and Hermione rather enjoyed it; it was peaceful. Ginny was incensed and frustrated that she was made to stay at home, especially when her father and brothers were still allowed to go to their places of business. But there was an issue much closer to home that had people sticking close to the confines of The Burrow voluntarily:

Molly was a shell of her former self, trying to hold the family together after so much loss (and being quite magically drained from killing Bellatrix).

She put on a brave face and tried to be cheery yet everyone could see and sense her decline. Her once vivid hair was limp and totally gray. It was all she could do just to keep up with her usual cooking, though it was all done by hand now. She did not have any reserves to keep household charms going on in the background to take care of the rest of the home, much less the livestock and garden.

Arthur was grateful the kids took shifts around the house, making a point of always having at least one of them there since he was so busy cleaning up messes at the Ministry. When he got home each night, drained and exhausted, it killed him a little each time to see that his once vibrant wife had dulled and the children had taken up the slack…. (If they could have gotten by without his Ministry income, he would have given it up in a second!)

She only seemed to perk up and be genuinely happy when she talked about and was planning the wedding of her only daughter; Ginny seemed to become more animated at those times too, so Harry just went with the flow, seeing how it made her and his surrogate parents so happy. He was glad to be in a familiar place with the people he loved and moving at more normal pace, far away from the dismal depression that hung over him during the time in the tent— and if he was honest with himself, his whole life.

And that he was actually alive— he mustn’t forget that— despite the lingering sorrow.

Surprisingly (or unsurprisingly, really) his teenaged libido reared to life as the initial ache began to wane and the reality of living without such a heavy burden actually soaked in. Without the external pressure-- and all the new, normal possibilities of life— he was filled with everything that had been suppressed and repressed during his formative years.

Suddenly he was ravenous!

He got erections at the drop of a hat. It seemed as if all the awkward boners he would have gotten at inopportune times during his school career (but hadn’t due all the stress and fatigue that had been his daily existence) had begun to spring to life. Literally!

He couldn’t really start to experiment with wanking, although he knew people did it, he never really had— there were always too many people around and no privacy— first at Hogwarts, then in the tent and now at the Burrow with only two loos and any number of people waiting in line (plus there was no way he was going to try touching himself with Ron sleeping in the same room!). The only place at The Burrow that no one went was the attic, and a Ghoul charmed to look like it had Spattergroit pretty much killed any tumescence on sight.

Summers at Privet Drive had always been so unpleasant. By the time he entered puberty, he was too depressed to do anything more than the required chores while dealing with being mal-nourished; he’d never had the extra reserves of energy or the urge. Although he had ample time alone, living in fear, worry, sadness and anger wasn’t exactly an aphrodisiac….

So, currently, he was stuck feeling frisky and wholly unfulfilled. It was driving him mad!

In addition to not being able to sneak off alone to perform any self-love release, he found himself cock-blocked (or more aptly termed, ‘clock-blocked’, as George helpfully pointed out amidst a healthy amount of guffaws) by an over-bearing, soon-to-be mother in law.

Everyone knew how much Harry loved the woman, but unfortunately, Molly had altered her ‘most excellent’ clock and placed a modified ‘Caterwauling Curse’ between his and Ginny’s hands; there was a new category for the spokes to point to: NAUGHTY.

Whenever he and his girlfriend…. Fiancé…. stole a moment for a heated snog and his fingers hesitantly strayed to certain of her body parts (those that would be covered by a swim-suit), a screech sounded throughout the house like a ‘Sonorous Charm’ placed on a cat that had just had its tail rolled upon under a rocking chair. Mrs. Weasley suddenly set tasks for them to do in opposite directions on the property.

He supposed it was to protect her daughter’s “virtue” but Harry and Hermione had to snort at that; they both knew for a fact Ginny had lost her virginity to Michael Corner, drunkenly cured Neville of his innocence at one point after a DA meeting when she was upset at Harry’s attention to Cho and had an on-going, very physical relationship with Dean for months. (Ron always remained quiet and pretended to be deaf when there was any mention of Ginny’s sexual activity.)

There were probably more, but the Matriarch seemed to think she needed to preserve her daughters flower until her wedding night. It put a huge crimp in Harry’s love-life and sensual development-- and made his balls ache.

Ron and Hermione were both sympathetic (the redhead being less so), seeing as they had no restrictions on them what-so-ever and could sneak off for “alone time” whenever they wanted. Harry wanted to punch something every time their make-out sessions escalated and then they excused themselves, Ron shooting a self-satisfied smirk over his shoulder.

Ginny didn’t seem to mind the wait so much…. She took that time to tell him all the horrors she’d endured at her last year at Hogwarts.

It made his stomach turn when he heard of it.

She’d experienced verbal and emotional abuse, plus some physical restraint. Ginny swore up and down she hadn’t been sexually molested, but there was spitting in her face, spanking, pinching and hair pulling while the Carrows had held her in the pillory and employed many well-placed 'Stinging Jinxes'. The Slytherin students hadn’t been much better; it seemed there had been quite a lot of petty ambushes and squabbles between Houses in the corridors.

She was livid and adamant in her hatred of Severus Snape, who turned a blind-eye to the torture. Harry learned early on that no amount of him explaining how the supremely sacrificing man had an impossible role as a spy could sway her. He eventually gave up trying to change her mind, just to avoid another row.

He listened with an open, sympathetic ear-- as much as he could stand in one sitting at a time— but he found it odd she did not seem to want to return the favour. She shut down and it was hard for him to open up; he learned to keep his own bad history to himself. So he settled for commiserating as best he could with her and being there as a strong shoulder to lean against.

It then made sense that she liked the cuddling and was content with the infrequent, soft kisses that would lead nowhere-- especially after the last incident when Harry’s ardor had led him to thread his fingers through her hair and forcefully clenched it in his fist. He thought she was getting into their snog like he was until he realized she was squirming and struggling in his tight embrace and pushing him away.

She shot him a silent, cold look and then left in a huff. He was confused about what had gone wrong but he wasn’t able to ask—and then later felt guilty when he realized that his passionate grope and grasp in her tresses must have reminded her of bad times. She went to stay with one of her friends from her year; Harry didn’t see her for several days.

But he found he didn’t mind so much.

First, Charlie arrived.

The dragon-handler had been busy with a clutch of rare Antipodean Opaleyes in a remote valley area of the preserve when the Final Battle unexpectedly erupted and by the time word reached him it had been almost a month. As soon as he was able, he took an indefinite leave of absence and Portkeyed home.

Harry had always liked and admired him the few times they’d met but it was his infectious laugh and easy-going, positive attitude that was most welcome. There was such a somber sadness hanging over everyone that survived The War that his levity and cheerfulness, even when he was being serious, was a much needed breath of fresh air.

Second, everyone who was of age and fought on the Side of Light was issued invitations to volunteer for the re-building of Hogwarts.

Most who still had jobs wouldn’t be able to devote much time to the restoration but Harry was thrilled that he, Hermione, Ron and Charlie (by extension via familial affiliation) would be going full-time to help rebuild his home! It would be horrible to see the devastation, of course, but he knew it would feel wonderful to be working towards something so important and worthwhile; it would be incredibly liberating to get out of the oppressive atmosphere of the grief and trauma that had permeated The Burrow.

Harry thought it an added bonus that with his Invisibility Cloak and Map, he could probably find a private place to wank. And after Ginny and him were married, they could find some empty spaces to have sex in and he could finally experience some of the normal things all the other students seemed to have been doing while at school.

~0~

“Harry!” Hermione mock-admonished, watching him in fond amusement, “The project won’t begin for another four days! Why are you packing now?”

Harry paused with a wad of jeans in his hands, “Why not? I can’t wait! I need to make sure I have everything.”

“It’s just that you usually leave it until the last minute,” she answered thoughtfully. “I know you love Hogwarts…. but it isn’t going to be the same. It’s going to be really hard seeing the wreckage….”

“I know,” he replied, sounding unconcerned and tried to jam the crumpled clothes into his overflowing trunk. “I just want to get back and do something meaningful.” He was unaware of Hermione’s narrowed eyes, surveying him struggling with his possessions.

She sighed and pulled a ball of t-shirts towards her and began folding them in her lap. “Aren’t you going to miss Ginny? I wouldn’t want to spend that much time apart from Ron….”

“Wha—hmm?” Harry mumbled absently as he rearranged a stack of books according to size. “Oh, well, it’s only a month and a half.” He glanced up and caught Hermione’s quirked eyebrow, “I mean I’ll see her every weekend when we come back to visit the family. And then she’ll be old enough to come help and we’ll be married, so….”

Hermione was disturbed at Harry’s lack of enthusiasm when it came to his fiancé and the up-coming ceremony but figured it was because he was just focused on his task at the moment. She noticed they didn’t spend nearly as much time together anymore but had thought it was due to Molly’s imposed chastity and that they didn’t want to kill themselves with sexual tension they couldn’t alleviate.

Now she wasn’t so sure. If that was the case, wouldn’t the mention of the wedding cause him to want the big day to come as soon as possible?

“So, your plan is to throw yourself into work and then before you know it, it’s your wedding night?” She queried with a playful smirk.

Harry just shrugged and shuffled some parchment and quills around in a box. “Sure,” he murmured and frowned at his old Gryffindor uniform, apparently lost in debate on whether or not to bring it.

Hermione’s brows furrowed in concern; he was regarding the separation with indifference. And there was no flash in his eyes at the thought of finally getting to have sex! No warmth at the thought of being husband and wife. It was odd. She’d have to keep an eye on that.

“Well, I’m off to find Ron,” she said with the goofy grin she got every time she thought of the redhead she loved (and couldn’t imagine not wanting as much intimate contact as possible now that they had breached that barrier, both physical and emotional).

As soon as she opened the bedroom door, she came face to face with a very irate Ginny. “You’re back!” she exclaimed in surprise, “How was your visit with the girls?”

The fiery girl ignored Hermione completely and brushed past her, stalking up and looming over Harry still sitting on the floor with his (much more organized now) luggage. “So you were going to just up and leave? Without so much as telling me?”

“I was going to…. and would have if you were here.” Harry looked nervous, fiddling with the hem on his frayed shirt. Hermione gave him an apologetic look and slipped out the door to give them some privacy. “You took off without telling me where you were.”

“Ever heard of an owl, Harry? They can find anyone anywhere!” She sounded terribly petulant in her sarcasm.

“The letters just got here yesterday!” Harry felt his temper start to flare; how come she got to take off for an undefined amount of time without telling him where she was but he couldn’t go somewhere where she knew he would be?! He took a deep breath as he rose to his feet.

Harry’s pulse was starting to thud in his ears, “And have you heard of an owl? I didn’t know you’d left until your mother mentioned it the next day!”

Ginny’s face turned several unbecoming shades of blotchiness. “You didn’t even notice I’d gone, is that it then?”

“No, I thought you were sulking in your room like you do sometimes and I thought I was giving you space to calm down or whatever! It didn’t occur to me that what I did was so heinous that it would drive you away for a week! And I would never have left for Hogwarts without telling you. It pisses me off that you think I would!”

At that, Ginny deflated a bit. “I didn’t either, not really. I don’t want to fight, it’s just I’m not allowed to go and it’s like last year all over again-- the ‘Golden Trio’ gets to go off on another ‘grand adventure’ and I’m left behind. You three have all the fun while I endure—“

Harry was starting to think Ginny was analyzing the situation rationally, but he bristled at the notion that they had been having a good time on the Horcrux hunt! “We’ve all told you the Hell all those months were for us! I get it, you had to stay at home and at Hogwarts, and it was hard but you were safer that way!” He was angered further when she rolled her eyes.

They’d had this argument many times before.

“But,” he continued, “it won’t be like the past year. Not at all. You will know I am safe and where I am. You will be safe and I will know where you are. We can freely owl, Floo and Patronus whenever we want.” He could feel her anger fading. “Plus, it’s only for six weeks and we’ll be back here every weekend….”

She sighed and wrapped her arms around his waist, “I know. I’m just jealous at being left out. Again. And at having to be stuck with my moping mum….”

Harry tried to come up with a temporary solution that she would like, “Why don’t you invite your friends over for flying and swimming and stuff. You know how your mother likes to have people to take care of. A big full house…. Give her something else to focus on, deflect off of you for a bit?”

“You’re right,” she conceded further, “I was just hoping that you’d be here with me while we plan the wedding.” Harry leaned back and arched an eyebrow at her.

“Ok,” she laughed, “We’ve already figured it all out without you anyway. But I’ll miss you. I wish you didn’t feel like you had to go rebuild, but you wouldn’t be you if you didn’t feel like you had to go fix things and be The Saviour! That’s why I love you!” She pecked him on the cheek and headed downstairs.

She didn’t see the way he tensed and grimaced as though he had just tasted something very sour or bitter.

~O~

The most fun Harry had in his life were the impromptu Quidditch matches in the orchard, the “hoops” consisting of picking baskets attached to trees. The Quaffle was an old Muggle football (slightly deflated) of Arthur’s and they used the Snitch that had once held the Resurrection Stone. After supper, on the days that Bill and George were there after work, they played games of three on three.

It was Harry, Ron and Bill on one team and Charlie, George and Ginny on the other. Ron and George were usually the Keepers, while Bill and Ginny were Chasers—but sometimes they switched it up. The little group always allowed the two who had both been the star athletes on their teams in their time to keep their positions; Harry and Charlie developed a friendly rivalry as the Seekers.

Seeing as there weren’t enough players to have Beaters, the Chasers were allowed to gather the over-ripe peaches that were decomposing on the ground and throw them like Bludgers. It made for a lot of sticky, splattery fun. Often times, the participants were painted in sweat and fruit-juice when they finally finished. They would collapse, laughing on the grass.

The teams were so well matched it was pretty even for wins and losses so no bitter feelings developed and it was the perfect distraction and pastime to enjoy. The only problem with it was that it made Harry feel so happy and free that it often gave him erections. Between the stiff breeze that blew past his groin, the buzzing of the broomstick between his thighs and his pleasure with the light-hearted company, he was often left in a state of arousal (which, let’s face it, was very frequent these days!).

But it confused him why it didn’t go away— but actually got harder and oozy— the first time Charlie had taken off his shirt. He tried to tell himself it was because Ginny’s white tank-top had soaked through with wet peach-essence but for some reason he just couldn’t look away from her big brother! (Thankfully that time, he was lying on his stomach so no one could see his indiscretion!)

He rationalized it as he had never seen the bare torso of someone as muscular as Charlie. The twenty-eight year old man’s physique was just so broad and solid—it looked like he could pick up a tree-trunk and toss it around with ease. He wasn’t tall (which was a strange comfort to Harry who’d never grown as much as his class-mates) but his stature commanded respect for the strength he held in his frame. He was just an imposing and interesting person all around.

It happened again the time Bill had squished half a soft peach down his little brother’s shorts, been tackled in payback and they were rolling around on the ground, grappling for the upper-hand. He’d marveled at the younger man’s ability to over-power his elder brother into submission, straddling and pinning him down with bulging biceps and thick thighs. It was obvious he was very powerful. The wet-spot on the back-side of the fabric drew his eye….

A bit later after that incident, they were sitting in the twilight-lit shadows on the back porch, just him and Charlie, relaxing and having a Butterbeer.

Bill had gone back to his cottage for the night and to shower, George had left for the flat over the shop. Ginny got to bathe first. Ron had only needed to clean up a bit in the kitchen sink since he made it through the game relatively unscathed and went to rejoin Hermione. And Harry couldn’t quite tear his eyes away from the impressive and intriguing sight his best mate’s brother made; the long-haired, goateed man had several fascinating tattoos and curious scars scattered along his torso.

It amused Charlie to no end that the young man’s eyes had been glued to his body while he sat there doing a poor job at concealing the tent in his trousers.

At first he thought Harry was hinting at something, encouraging a tryst or simply teasing. But after a while, it became clear he was uncomfortable— nervous and fidgety-- and attempting to employ the novice techniques of a twelve-year-old trying to hide an awkward boner; he kept alternating with bending his knees up, hunching, unsuccessfully shielding it with his bottle and the like.

It was cute. He was cute.

“You’re welcome to look,” the older Gryffindor alumni lion purred, flexing his pecs as he twirled his drink in his large, square hands. There was a glint in his eye that radiated mischief at Harry staring.

Harry audibly gulped, immediately embarrassed at being caught gawping (he hated that when people only saw his scar!). “I-I-I’m sorry!” he stammered, his face heating so much it could fry an egg.

Charlie’s lightly furred and slightly rounded belly danced over his waist-line as he chuckled. “I like you Harry…. You’re nothing like I thought.”

The brunet immediately darkened. “Yeah,” he choked, suddenly angry and scowling, “I get that a lot.” He drained his drink with several harsh swallows.

The other man laughed softly again, “No, not that usual rot-- mistaking the media image of the hero and then finding out you’re only human…. No, I just meant that you are very beautifully and mysteriously your own person, despite it all— and because of it all.” (Harry was too naïve at that point to hear the deepening of Charlie’s tone), “You’re a lot of fun, Harry. I look forward to having you…. around.”

The flustered brunet couldn’t look the man in the eye, he was so unused to unconditional compliments; it was too seductive (he’d convinced himself—at the time—that it was simply the acceptance that was alluring, and not what should have been obvious as desire). Harry’s vision narrowed onto a particular, peculiar scar on his forearm.

Charlie followed his gaze.

“Hebriddean hatchling. Just burst through the shell and latched on.” He turned his hairy limb, the slick skin shining in the dim light. “Belched a fire-ball on me a second later. See, you can tell where the egg-tooth pierced,” he pointed to the top, indicating a separate round mark. “Went so deep it hit bone. I’m not ashamed to tell you I wailed like a little girl,” he said with a smile in that attractive air of whimsy that seemed to seep out of his pores.

Harry had a strange flash of putting his mouth on the marred flesh because it was about the size of his jaws and was subconsciously licking his lips when Ginny emerged out the back door in a fuzzy dressing gown and wet hair. “It’s all yours if you want it—unless you care to fight Char for the last of the hot water,” she said and disappeared inside.

He looked questioningly at the man still reclined comfortably in the deck chair, peeling the label off his bottle. He cocked his head at the man, silently questioning him if he wanted to go first; Harry had no intention of engaging a man who had just won a wrestling match against a much stronger, fully grown male (and weirdly, his rock-hard penis pulsed at the memory). “No, you go ahead,” Charlie answered the unvoiced offer.

Harry was glad the man liked him enough to concede first dibs—but then that meant that he had to stand and go inside, his crotch passing by the man’s line of sight. He’d grown hard yet again (he made himself believe that it had been from knowing that Ginny had been naked in the shower all the while they were talking and he’d just seen her in a bathrobe) and that was embarrassing.

Harry hesitated to rise from his seat.

“Off you get then,” Charlie grinned through an intense gaze and gently nudged the flustered brunet’s denim-clad knee with the toe of his boot, “I can make do with cold water at this point.”
- 1
- 2
- 3
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

WONKY CROSS