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
- 2
- 3
- 4
A/N: Thanks for all the reads, rates and reviews! I love them! And yes, Harry is going to be really clueless in the beginning…. Hope you all enjoy this next part!

~O~

DIM

“I had hoped for a bigger turn-out,” Professor McGonagall addressed the small crowd assembled in the kitchens of Hogwarts.

The cavernous room was still intact and a rather neutral place to gather (that didn’t hold any painful memories— unlike several other places in the castle, especially the Great Hall); it made sense to hold meetings there. “But I understand the reasons many cannot join us in our endeavors here. I am grateful for your willingness and sacrifice."

There were nods of agreement and acceptance around the table at which they sat. The people that had been contacted seemed to mainly fall into four categories:

There were people like Percy, Arthur, Kingsley and Bill who were needed at their jobs and had family reliant on their income and therefore unable to volunteer much— if any-- time.

Then there were those, like the trio, George, Lee and Dean who hadn’t been at Hogwarts during the last year-- only the Final Battle-- so were less affected by being back at the school but wanted to help rebuild their home.

The biggest demographic by far, were the kids in the DA that were of age now but couldn’t cope with living and working in the place that held so much trauma for them the previous terms. As McGonagall said, it was entirely understandable; everybody dealt with things their own way.

Neville, who had led the underground rebellion against the Death Eater regime (and Luna who had returned for the second half of the year) fell into the bravest group that represented the most courageous; they needed to return to the scene of unspeakable horrors, to face their fears, to use their knowledge and pride of the Castle as their way of healing.

Then there was Charlie. He was in a class all his own; he had only happy memories of his beloved institution and wanted to lend a hand to help get it back to its original glory-- and had the luxury of time to do so.

“With a diminished staff and small crew, it may take a bit longer than I had anticipated but I will not have any of the children return until Hogwarts is completely restored.” The old witch’s message and speech was both commendable and inspiring.

“I want to reopen the school in a pristine state with no visual reminders of what destruction took place here.” Professor McGonagall surveyed her little team with grim determination and continued, “Seeing as we are all here for a common cause and will be coordinating amongst ourselves, it is my hope that we can all feel comfortable enough to be on a first name basis with each other.” Her normally tight lips twitched, “And it will help clarify among the Mr. Weasleys.”

There were some shy smiles and nervous titters, no one quite knowing how to react to the stern, always authoritative witch making a joke.

“I’ve received your requests of which areas you would prefer to work on,” at this, she shuffled a stack of parchment slips they had submitted earlier, “and without too much overlap with the current staff assignments, I am happy to grant your wishes to your first choices.”

There were many pleased expressions and murmurs from the group.

“We will begin after breakfast tomorrow, after a quick meet and greet with the Ministry-contracted masons and builders after they arrive. Dean, you’ll welcome and take instruction with the professional artists I’ve commissioned. The Ministry,” she pursed her lips in annoyance, “hasn’t deemed the restoration of the portraits and tapestries as ‘essential’ so you will need to learn all you can from them while the private monies hold, and perhaps finish on your own.”

“Neville you will go with Pomona. Hermione and Luna, you will accompany Filius and weave the wards. Lee, the Weasleys and Harry, you’ll be on the pitch— best get it done while the weather is nice. Once it’s done we can regroup and work on problems of the interior. I’ll be in the Great Hall or attending to administrative duties in my office should you need me. Any questions?”

Nobody had any and they broke up the meeting to head up to their rooms in Gryffindor tower. Somehow, when they had settled in earlier, they all decided to take a room in the boys’ dorms, probably just to stay close to one another. Ron and Hermione shared one, of course. And since George and Lee opted to room together (apparently, without Fred, the lone twin needed the company) there was room enough for everyone.

But Harry had been pleasantly surprised when he was unpacking to see Charlie leaning against the doorjamb with a sheepish look on his face and rucksack in hand.

“Can I bunk with you? I can’t sleep without someone else around…. Guess it comes from living in a large family.” The brunet had smiled and nodded. He was happy Charlie had chosen him and rather liked the idea of them getting to spend more time together; he always felt better with him around. (And although he didn’t begrudge them one bit, he felt a little left out and lonely since Ron and Hermione became a couple.)

The redhead grinned and moved to unpack as well.

When they first arrived in the Common Room that afternoon, everyone had been happy to take in the comforting, familiar sight, but when the subject of rooms came up, Ron had pulled Charlie aside and pleaded with him to stay with Harry. Apparently-- as his little brother informed him-- Harry needed someone there to wake him when he got nightmares and begged him to do it so he could spend the nights with his girlfriend.

Charlie had just laughed, “Not a problem, little bro.”

It really wasn’t.

His honest intrigue with the Boy-Who-Lived had been sparked by their brief encounters in the past, during the Quidditch World Cup and Tri-Wizard Tournament. Of course, all the outlandish things reported about him in the media, combined with stories he’d heard from the family over the years made him wonder….. Plus the handful of days they’d spent at The Burrow before coming to the Castle had piqued his curiosity even further.

He remembered the shy little school-boy excited by his first professional Quidditch game and then the fourteen-year-old’s impressive performance as the scrappy under-dog quickest to capture his golden egg in the first task. But Harry was a young man now, full of mystery and an incredible wealth of wisdom and personal history; there was just something about him-- an undercurrent of unknown energy and enigma that fascinated him.

He’d hinted as much to Harry that night on the porch; he simply wanted to learn all about the person he’d grown up to be (which was unusual for Charlie. He was always friendly enough to those around him though he usually liked to keep his relationships and encounters light and casual with a buffer of distance). Now, with the promise of getting to spend a lot of time together, it looked like he’d get the chance to know the man behind the myth.

Sharing a room would be great (and perhaps, if he was lucky, he could sneak some peeks at him getting dressed or undressed!). Yeah, maybe he was a dirty old man at the ripe age of twenty-eight, but he had eyes and the kid had grown up to be very handsome….

Speaking of which, Harry had now taken his shirt and jeans off at some point during his inner-musings. The redhead had to keep from outright ogling at his roommate in just his black boxer-briefs, heading to the bathroom with toothbrush in hand.

The man was fucking gorgeous! All wiry muscles, creamy skin and beautiful black body-hair! (Why the bloody HELL did he cover up all that mouth-watering yummy-ness under such baggy clothes?!)

Charlie quickly chucked off his own outfit and got under his blanket, bunching it in his lap to hide the huge erection he’d gotten in a matter of seconds, just from seeing that nubile flesh for only a moment. He was flustered by his strong reaction— he had thought he was merely interested in the bloke, but now it appeared he was well on his way to infatuated.

The guy who was set to marry his sister. BUGGER!

Harry finished using the loo and returned to find Charlie with a very odd (almost constipated or cramped) look on his face…. “You want it?” The redhead twitched violently but remained still seated and mute. “The bathroom,” the brunet gestured behind him, confused at Charlie’s strange demeanor. “I’m done, it’s all yours.”

Charlie inwardly cursed that his typical suave confidence seemed to have flown out the window (Had returning to the dormitory reduced him to a stammering pubescent student imagining innuendo where there was none?) He pursed his lips in consternation. He’d get his mojo back-- he had to-- he’d just been caught off-guard is all. Next time he’d be ready for it.

He quickly calculated his options; stay put and will his erection away or surreptitiously tuck the tip into the waistband of his boxers and go take care of it. Meanwhile, during his inner-turmoil, Harry had slipped into bed, hiding the half-naked form that had rendered him speechless.

Seeing his glasses were off, he nonchalantly asked, “How well can you see without those specs?” There, his voice sounded pretty neutral and normal to his own ears— and his topic more conversational (rather than trying to ascertain if he would scare off his companion if he crossed the room with a raging tent in his pants).

“Not too well, I’m afraid,” Harry answered him, glad that the man had returned to his usual jovial self. He watched from the corner of his eye as the muscle-bound peach and cream blur padded over to the WC, albeit a bit stiff-legged and hunched-- but he figured that if he was having tummy-troubles that was to be expected. He hoped he felt better soon and settled down to go to sleep.

He was snoring by the time Charlie made it to his own bed.

~0~

Their first day was exciting and busy.

The hired professionals arrived and people broke into their designated groups.

Hagrid took the men and women over the grounds to find deposits of rock they could quarry, the idea being that the bricks that couldn’t simply be repaired-- and needed to be replaced entirely— should be derived from the most closely related to the original structure. The girls followed after Flitwick and Dean left with the painters. For the wizards working on the pitch, they didn’t need any skilled help— it was mainly just casting “Reparo” over and over again, so they waved Neville good-bye at the greenhouses and got to work.

It was mind-numbing, really, but the repetitive manual labor was soothing. Hermione had warned them to take frequent breaks, stating something about muscles and tendons needing rest or they would suffer from something about a “carpeted tunnel” (or some such, Harry wasn’t really listening to her lecture, he was just happy to have an excellent excuse to get some flying in).

It also allowed for talking and joking around, something they all needed.

Harry couldn’t really join in when they teased each other about sex though, seeing as he had no experience. That was humiliating and it made his cheeks heat up-- a fact that the Weasley brothers all found hilarious so they did it all the more (bastards!). It also didn’t help that the majority of the comments were directed at “newbie” Ron— because HE turned beet red as well (and he really didn’t want to picture his two best friends getting it on!).

Charlie loved making Harry flush.

He couldn’t resist instigating it with raunchy and ribald comments any chance he could. Here was a handsome, grown man who’d withstood more horror than anyone and was strong and confident about a good many things, and yet he seemed so innocent when the guys spoke humorously and openly about sexuality!

It was just so darn cute!

Although he felt really bad one day, early on, when he teased a bit too far, saying the brunet looked like a blushing virgin— and the young man shot him a pained, betrayed look before taking off on his broom and shot out of sight over the Forbidden Forrest and skived off work the rest of the day.

Ron had further shocked him by vehemently defending his best mate:

‘Quit being so insensitive, Char and just lay off!’ he’d yelled and then seethed under his breath that Harry was indeed a virgin and not very happy about it. Charlie had blinked at the force coming off his baby brother; he had a moment of clarity that ‘little ickle Ronniekins’ had developed into a fully-fledged adult with great power while he’d been away working on his career, ignoring how his family had grown and changed in his absence.

And then he felt like a terrible friend— a bully, even-- to the bloke that had saved them all with his huge heart for humanity and unmatched courage to make countless sacrifices.

Charlie resolved to himself to direct most of his debauched jokes on his own self since he wasn’t ready to give up seeing that endearing blush just yet— the simple mention of what he and his fellow co-workers did to pass time when they had to be camped out and there was nothing else to do around the campfire was enough to set Harry’s face aglow (even the words ‘mind-shattering blow job’ caused him to fidget and tremble).

He found it addicting and adorable.

He apologized later that night when Harry finally came back to their room; he explained he couldn’t comprehend that The-Boy-Who-Lived hadn’t had the opportunity to lose his virginity yet. (And had honestly thought his siblings had been joking about his mother ‘cock/clock-blocking’ him)

The brunet looked miserable and embarrassed, but shrugged and mumbled it was ok.

And then Charlie clapped his shoulder and reminded Harry his wedding wasn’t too far off (and then he looked miserable as well).

~O~

After they reassembled and had their dinner in the kitchens, most nights they all relaxed in the Common Room; they talked about their day over Butterbeers or told funny stories (Charlie had so many entertaining tales from his exciting life!) or played games while Hermione read before heading to bed. Some evenings they went to The Three Broomsticks or to Aberforth’s.

Harry wrote and sent letters to Ginny, describing the new project (and had a pangs of grief at having to go to the Owlery and use one of the school’s birds) but her replies were far and few in between—and extremely brief. She claimed they could just talk when they all came to The Burrow for Sunday dinner…. And he supposed that was true enough (since she didn’t have much to say about what was going on with him and only seemed interested in relaying color-schemes and flower choices for their up-coming nuptials) and eventually the owls stopped.

Charlie had an understandable (though practically daily) fascination with having Harry recount the hatching— and subsequent smuggling-- of Norberta the Norwegian Ridgeback, his interactions with the Hungarian Horntail during the first task and the incident of breaking out of Gringott’s on the back of a dragon (which, by only the weak details the Trio could provide, he wasn’t able to determine the species and the mystery aggravated him to no end).

Normally, the Boy-Who-Got-Too-Much-Attention would hate the seemingly fawning attitude, but was somehow pleased by the dragon-handler’s unfading interest; it was hilarious to him that he’d ‘shush’ Ron and Hermione from chiming in. It made him feel important in a new way. And that was strange because he typically hated to talk about his past “accomplishments”.

He indulged the compelling man that hung on his every word— Harry was enthralled by how open the emotions on the other man’s face were:

The outrage at the inhumane treatment of the blind, albino reptile forced and shackled into servitude and controlled by negative reinforcement, fear at the danger they had faced, the daring and exhilarating escape by ‘actually riding and flying on a dragon!!!’, and the jubilance at the triumph of victory, both human and beast. Charlie often wondered at the end of the recitation where the dragon ended up, a look of yearning lingering across his rugged features.

It actually made Harry glad to talk about his experiences when it made someone else so genuinely happy.

~O~

Every day it was the same thing.

Except Charlie was able to conquer and master his physical reaction to Harry’s choice of summer night-clothes (just undies) better now that he knew what he’d be faced with. Oh, he still felt the desire and arousal, but he wasn’t surprised by unexpected, raging hard-ons because he was prepared to focus on keeping it at a low level.

Harry was having the opposite problem, worried over how prominent and obvious his morning erections were (and at other strange times). He knew it was normal but for some reason he felt like he was weak at controlling his body— and he couldn’t match his roommate’s easy comfort in his own skin, though he admired it tremendously.

Green eyes had bugged out in disbelief the first time after rooming together for a few days that Charlie stood and stretched after turning off the alarm, not even bothering to hide the bobbing length at the front of his boxers. He couldn’t help but stare as the elder Weasley unashamedly declared, “Time to shit, shower and shave…. And I guess take care of this!” He tapped the underside of his cock and made it bounce before he scratched his balls and said over his shoulder with a wink, “But maybe not in that exact order.”

Harry adopted a routine after that of staying in bed (with knees bent to conceal what would have made a tent in the sheets) while Charlie used the bathroom first— and became a habitual wanker in the shower after one close call of doing it under the covers and Charlie had finished his ablutions quicker than normal that day and almost caught him at it.

That would have been downright mortifying!

(Although he suspected the redhead might have known what he interrupted because he had a very Dumbledore-esque twinkle in his bright blue eyes)

~0~

The first nightmare was terrifying for Charlie.

He’d been sound asleep when a whimper entered his consciousness. The redhead listened in the darkness and heard the desperate noise again, this one more urgent. He smirked, thinking he was listening to his bunk-mate tossing-off; he was quickly disabused of that notion when the vocalizations clearly became full of agony and anguish.

He was across the room in a flash when it turned into downright screaming the next second. Grabbing the thrashing brunet by the shoulders, he begged him to wake and realize it was just a dream.

Shuddering and quivering, covered in clammy perspiration, Harry blinked up at his frightened roommate. “Charlie?” The redhead’s heart broke a little at the small, child-like voice. Harry was always so stoic but at that very moment, he was struck with how much horror such a lovely heart had endured (and how vulnerable he really was).

“Shhh, I’ve got you,” Charlie murmured, slipping into bed with him, his big biceps cradling the shaky young man; all he wanted to do was guard him from the world— and wipe clear all the bad memories he was plagued with.

“Thanks Char,” Harry mumbled, “You don’t have to if you don’t want to though.”

Charlie squeezed harder, “Don’t be silly. You don’t have to do this all alone.”

Harry blinked, unseeing in the darkened room.

How was this feeling so good? Seconds ago his unconscious mind was replaying the events at Malfoy Manor, complete with all the original helplessness and terror, but the dream branched off into an entirely worse outcome…. Instead of only losing Dobby, they were all doomed…. One after the other falling with lifeless eyes….

But lying there, being held in solid arms, he felt so safe! It was amazing how he could even contemplate falling asleep again so soon! It was warm and peaceful, an embrace that soothed his soul. Charlie’s broad chest was a warm, protective wall against his back, shielding him from all harm.

“Talk if you want. Don’t if you don’t,” Charlie’s sleep-husky voice rumbled, washing over his ear, and made him shiver through his drying sweat.

Harry was grateful for the options. Hermione always insisted he vent and analyze everything; Ron wasn’t ever comfortable enough to venture an offer either way beyond rousing him from his subconscious mind’s terror. Certainly no one had climbed in to his bed just to hold him!

In serene solace as the silence settled, Harry relaxed.

~O~

Harry didn’t remember falling asleep-- but he sure knew the exact moment he awoke!

It was almost too hot and constrictive. He realized he was wrapped up in another body. He’d never experienced such a thing! It wasn’t half bad but his eyes bulged (dislodging crusts of sleep from their corners) when a scorching, stiff heat began rubbing against his backside. He wasn’t a homophobe (he’d always figured pleasure was pleasure and love was love-- and anywhere you found it, it was beautiful), it was just that he wasn’t used to such close physical contact…. from anyone.

He didn’t know what to do— so he didn’t do anything.

Some strange part of him was morbidly fascinated. He was hard and horny-- as per usual in the morning-- so maybe that made him a bit more daring and curious. But he really liked the feel of skin on skin! It was sublime!

Harry wiggled a little, titillated at the firm muscles holding him with gentle strength; he could feel chest-hair pressed up against his shoulder-blades. The increased speed of the moist breath panting on the back of his neck made his prick twitch.

“Mmmmm,” Charlie purred, clearly still mostly asleep. The fine hairs on Harry’s neck and arms rose at the deep, vibrating expression of pleasure. He squirmed a bit more as his ass-crack was rutted against with a bit more force, the unyielding arm around his waist pulling him in tighter. The hand over his belly rubbed and then crept lower, descending over the front of his pants.

He held his breath as the first touch that wasn’t his own fondled his length through one flimsy layer of cloth— the force of the palm’s heel pressed commandingly, the strength of the thick digits curling and pulling, teasing the tip. The taking of his arousal in a knowledgeable, foreign grip was overwhelming; he was dizzy with feeling desire at being handled and his stimulation being taken control of by another person.

His breath hitched and stuttered— and he may have moaned.

Then there was a wet heat tonguing and kissing the back of his neck, complete with the prickly tickling of the older man’s goatee on his sensitive skin, licking and sucking….

He groaned quite audibly when the hand on his engorged penis grabbed roughly and his hips forward thrust of their own volition into that pleasure. Suddenly, the combinations of wonderful sensations all left him at once. The redhead was scrambling so hard he fell out onto the floor on his boxer-clad ass.

“SHIT!” Charlie exclaimed, running a trembling hand through his hair, “Fuck,” he laughed sheepishly, “Sorry…. Sleep reflex. I’m so sorry, I should have warned you that tends to happen when I have a bedmate. I should have gone back to my own space after you settled down….”

Harry’s mind was still reeling— until it landed on the fact that he was being rejected as soon as the person lying beside him realized who he was with. Of course someone as appealing as Charlie wouldn’t want to be with a weird, virginal kid and would find himself repulsed by what his impulses had led him to while unconscious! (It didn’t even occur to him at that moment that the reason the man was holding back was that he was due to marry a woman)

Charlie was silently beating himself up for taking advantage of Harry…. who was troubled, and straight, and horny as hell while waiting to wed his sister. “I— just sorry, mate. No hard feelings?” he said (then immediately winced, blushing at his poor choice of words-- Fuck! Was flushing in embarrassment contagious?).

Harry was left alone as the redhead all but fled the room in what he perceived as disgust. The extra-long shower seemed to confirm his thoughts that his roommate deemed a more thorough scrubbing was in order after touching him. He left for breakfast alone that morning, without bathing and kept his head down during work, not catching anyone’s eye.

Charlie was cringing over his indiscretion all day.

“Char? What’s wrong?” Ron had innocently asked, noticing the tension and subtly gesturing with his shoulder toward the brunet that was fiercely scowling at his work, avoiding eye-contact with everyone. The two roommates, who always stuck close-by to one another, were obviously actively keeping their distance away from the other while they worked on adhering more splinters of wood together on the bases of the hoops lining the north side.

The elder brother had defensively snapped it was ‘none of his business!’ in a hiss, then in a softer whisper, admitted that they had had the first nightmare. Ron just nodded and kept the interaction discreet, quiet, and impressed his big bro further when he dropped the matter without another word and gave a firm nod and knuckle-bump to his bicep that translated into, ‘good man’.

All of them were relieved when the evening routine of hanging out in the Common Room found the anxiety gone between the two. And in a typical guy fashion, they all let the incident slide-- the dynamic back to normal without having to ‘talk about it’ girl-style.

~0~

“Why is he always so late these days?” Hermione commented, obviously impatient. “I’m starving.”

“He’s still in the shower,” Charlie answered her with an impish smile and a sideways glance to his sibling; Ron stifled a snigger behind her bushy head.

Hermione frowned, “We’ve all been down here for twenty-five minutes! He never used to take that long to complete his morning routine!” Then Ron really did laugh out loud before he could help himself. “What?!” she turned to him with a scowl, looking at the two brothers casting amused glances at each other.

“Sweetie….” Ron pleaded as he saw her eyes narrow and hands go to her hips, her classic stance of being determined to get information that she was certain was being kept from her. “Just drop it! We’ve plenty of time to get to breakfast….”

“It’s private, Hermione,” Charlie murmured, trying to close down the topic to preserve Harry’s dignity; he’d been feeling increasingly protective of the lad the more he got to know him. He’d had a really tough life and if he could help in any small way, he would. Harry was so adorably shy and so seemingly innocent when it came to matters of sexuality that he knew for a fact he wouldn’t appreciate them talking about it behind his back.

“Well, obviously it’s not THAT private, seeing as both of you know what’s up with him!” Ron made a strangled sound in his throat. “Is he fiddling around with his hair, now that he’s let it grow so long?” Her boyfriend was now grimacing, trying to hold back his guffaws.

Charlie was starting to get a little angry now. “Just shut it, Hermione!” His firm tone took her aback, having never heard him sound so stern before. “It’s a personal thing that guys know about, might joke about amongst themselves but don’t discuss in front of ladies. Harry doesn’t need you nosing into his business!” he hissed.

The witch bristled, “He’s my best friend! Of course I have a right to-- OH!” she fell silent as realization dawned. Her mouth snapped shut and her cheeks tinted pink.

“Now the ‘brightest witch of her age’ gets it,” Charlie muttered sarcastically. “Do you really think he wants us discussing this? It’s an unspoken rule of the Bro Code to look the other way!”

Hermione regained her composure, lifted her chin with authority and put on her best lecture voice, “It’s perfectly natural,” she started and ignored Ron frantically tugging on her sleeve. “Well, it IS!” she directed at Ron, missing the fact he had paled and was staring up the staircase behind her in fear. “It makes sense he’d need to relieve his needs, what with Molly not letting him be with Ginny until the wedding…. WHAT, Ronald?!”

Charlie swore and tore up back towards the dorms filled with dismay; there was no way Harry hadn’t heard that! The humiliated and hurt look in those green eyes said it all before he turned and fled.

“Hermione,” Ron sighed, “he’s just now discovering it and he’s so timid about it. Look, he’s basically like a twelve-year-old— would you have wanted your friends noticing and talking about you starting to masturbate?” he gently berated her lack of tact (ignoring her indignant splutters of ‘I-I-I never did it!’). “Except its worse for him, because he’s so far behind everyone else in terms of experience…. He’s only ever kissed.”

His girlfriend was lost in thought and frowning. “How do you know that? I thought you didn’t really talk about sex.” They’d had this discussion before, how none of the boys of their year had talked about things, seeing as most of it revolved around Ron’s sister— and her, like a sister to Harry.

“We don’t, but it’s just something you know from sharing a room with someone for years. Think about all the time in the tent, did you notice anything?”

“No, but…. but how—“

“He’s had a lot on his mind…. How randy did you feel when wearing the Locket? Or being Snatched? He’s had that almost constantly since he was found out he was a wizard.”

“That’s so sad!” she whined with genuine concern. “Intellectually I know that and it makes sense…. But…. Should we go up and talk to him?”

“No!” Ron asserted forcefully. “The last thing he wants is pity or to talk about it with you! Let’s just go to breakfast and Char will sort it out.”

Hermione heaved a heavy sigh. “All right. I’m starved. You really made me work up my appetite last night…. And this morning,” she said shyly, rubbing the side of her breast against his bicep.

It still hit Ron like a Stunner in the heart every time she said and did seductive things like that! He growled as he pulled her to him and gave her a hard kiss that ended with an obscenely loud smack. “Quick, before I have to take you back to bed for round three!” and pulled her out the Portrait Hole, determined to eat as fast possible and then find some broom-cupboard to shag her silly in.

~O~

Meanwhile, Charlie was pounding on their locked door.

Without an answer for several minutes he warned, “I’ll ‘Alohamora’ your ass!” (then cringed that such a threat was too close to what prep spells he wanted to incant and take advantage of on Harry, in the most literal sense!). Still, there was nothing, so he cast the charm and quietly let himself in the room and found Harry’s curtains drawn.

“Go away!” came the slightly muffled demand. “Just go down to the kitchens and you can all have a big laugh at poor, pathetic Potter up here learning how to yank it! Do me a favour, tell McGonagall and I’ll never have to do it again!”

Charlie chuckled lightly at that image and gently opened the drapes to sit next to Harry who was lying on his stomach with his head hidden under his pillow. “We weren’t laughing at you,” he rubbed little circles on the small of Harry’s back, pushing his luck with personal, physical boundaries— but thrilled at the seemingly innocent opportunity to get to touch him affectionately.

He was rewarded by a snorted scoff of disbelief.

“It’s true. I mean, it was kind of funny at first because Hermione was clueless, but she just wouldn’t drop it or let it go no matter what we said to head her off. And it really started making me cross with her! Is she always like that?”

The lump under the pillow made a nodding movement.

Then something the brunet said registered with him. “Hang on, what do you mean ‘learning to’?” That didn’t even make any sense! A squealing groan (accompanied by a full-bodied wriggle) sounded from under the fluffy fortress; the redhead pulled away the pillow, never ceasing his gentle caress.

Harry threw his arms over his head. “I’m just now figuring it out, OK? You happy now? Go ahead, laugh! Get it out of your system! No, really, do me a favour,” he yelled, “it’ll help me never want to again and stop!”

“I don’t want you to quit….” The older man cooed as if coaxing a wounded animal. “And Hermione didn’t think it was funny at all— you heard her, it’s a perfectly natural need.” He suddenly felt a little daring and slipped his fingertips beneath the hem of Harry’s shirt and stroked the warm skin under there. The only thing keeping his arousal in check was his extreme concern over the younger man’s distress.

“I guess I’m just a little surprised is all, I mean, usually discovering self-pleasure is done when you are a lot younger. And that comes before fooling around and having sex with other people….” then added as an afterthought, “Though I suppose nothing about your life has ever been normal.”

The muscles under his hand tensed and Harry glared over his shoulder. “I know. You don’t have to tell me. I’m a freak, always have been.” The deadened, hollow tone and malevolent sneer actually frightened the usually super-brave dragon-handler; he jerked his hand back as if it had been burned. Then tried again and the touch was accepted.

“I didn’t mean it like that! I simply meant that you have lived so extremely and extraordinarily different than every other person on the planet! You seem so put together and calm! It’s hard to remember how different your experiences have been, is all.” He hesitantly added his other hand to knead and soothe Harry’s rigid spine; when he felt some of the tension melt, he asked, “How was it you held out so long?”

Suddenly, the body under him twisted around and faced him fully. Harry radiated fury; the redhead caught a glimpse of the man that was able to defeat an even Darker wizard than Grindlewald. He actually recoiled a bit in fear (and he faced down enraged dragons for a living!)

“Don’t you dare!” Harry seethed. With eyes flashing Avada green and teeth bared, he frightened Charlie further.

“I’m nothing like people think I am! I’ve never had what everyone else has had! I didn’t get a chance to be like a child or a teenager! I didn’t get to have a sex drive! I didn’t ‘hold out’! I just never felt horny until the prophecy was fulfilled— after I died and came out the other side alive-- and after I dealt with the shock and sadness!”

He couldn’t tell what Charlie’s silence meant but by then he couldn’t stop. The main highlights— by no means ALL of it— came pouring out:

“I killed a man that had Voldemort living inside him before he could kill me when I was eleven! I fought and killed a Basalisk and a Horcrux that was resurrecting Him when I was twelve. When I was thirteen there were Dementors everywhere that were on the lookout for Sirius who was thought to be set to murder me— I had extra lessons with Lupin because Dementors force me to hear my mother’s dying screams. Are you feeling randy now?!” (His voice risen to a scream again.) “I sure didn’t feel like finding a girl to kiss in the corridors then!”

“I’m sure you’ve heard all about my fourth year, you saw what happened— how horny do you think I felt knowing dangerous tasks were coming up that I wasn’t prepared for? And then being held captive over my schoolmate that was murdered and had my blood used to bring Voldemort back into a body, then had to duel Him.” Harry snarled and added sarcastically, “Yeah, thinking about and reliving that in nightmares gets me soooooo hard!”

“Do you feel like jerking off when you have someone that hates you rooting around inside your head, throwing all your most humiliating moments and secret thoughts in your face? Occlumency with Snape because Voldemort was in there too was such a turn on! I was supposed to be dreaming of tits-- instead I got nightly broadcasts from within an insane man’s mind. Not sexy!”

“When people were sixteen and wanking, dating and kissing, groping and more, I was in extra lessons with Dumbledore going through memories of Tom Riddle’s past, trying to decipher his psyche and almost killed by Inferi. I watched the Headmaster die and then was set an impossible task of finding five Horcruxes god-knows-where! When I came of age last year we left on The Hunt, my only company was my two best friends who are like brother and sister to me-- and then I had to kill the Dark wizard, or die trying. Would you be hot and bothered with all that weighing on your mind?”

“I was too bloody stressed to have a fucking sex drive— I was trying to survive!” He was feeling a bit better at letting all this go, but a little hysterical as well. “When you are in mortal danger and busy and sleep-deprived and depressed do you feel like wanking?” He was panting and his green eyes were glittering, daring— no demanding-- Charlie to answer.

The redhead made some sort of squashed whimpering sound in his throat as his face crumpled and fell forward to crush him in a bear hug. Harry was surprised by the sudden embrace, still unused to physical contact-- he was even more shocked when the strong, broad shoulders against his started shaking and he could feel wetness on the cheeks pressed to the crook of his neck.

Charlie’s heart shattered into piece after piece hearing all the things that had happened to the guy he was felt so much for.

Harry’s past contained far too many fantastical horrors that served as reasons he had had none of the basic, human comfort of sexual release and stress-relief during such trying times! He’d known of some in theory, of course, but not nearly all— and having it come out of the mouth of the man himself, in a list all-together like that? It made it too real!

It reduced him to gut-wrenching sobs (something so embarrassing that really never happened to him!). Any one of those incidents would be terrible enough-- but to have one after another, over and over again? (The worst he’d had in his life was admitting to himself that he was bisexual and the extra effort of studying for exams!) He choked down the crushing feelings— How was it that Harry was even a normally functioning person at this point?!

And ironically, it was Harry that was soothing and comforting the man blubbering in his arms. “Shhhh,” he murmured to Charlie, finding comfort in stroking his back and petting his neck and pony-tail. “Char, it’s ok. It’s all over and done with, right?”

It was quite some time— and many other crooned nonsense platitudes later— before he got the redhead close to composed. Harry got him to chuckle through the last of his drying tears by assuring him most seriously, “At least I can get boners now. All the time, actually….”

~0~

Of course, after that rant and vent, dredging up so many bad memories, Harry had another nightmare.

The sequence of events happened much the same way as the first time, except for the morning after. Charlie was able to wake and extricate himself without taking advantage of their closeness.

The randy redhead feebly tried to joke, “Good thing I didn’t molest you again,” but his heart wasn’t in it.

He kind of wished he had, if only to steal one last little feel before the guy he was falling for was married and off-limits forever. (And yes, he was skating dangerously close to the term ‘head over heels’—he’d been shocked when he first realized that! He’d NEVER let himself grow so attached to another person before and it was wonderful and scary at the same time. And out of his control.)

Of course Harry was grateful Charlie there was there for what he needed so well to help him regain is emotional and psychological equilibrium, but he was confused. He was supposed to be relieved that nothing happened-- but he’d felt so utterly bereft when the warm body left his so quickly, beyond the niceness of the embrace.

(Why did he feel disappointed that the redhead hadn’t even tried to touch his hardened penis? He knew the dragon-wrangler swung both ways! So why not him? And why was that even part of the deal— why should he care?)

He was just horny, that was all! He needed some of the sex everyone talked about…. really bad! He was getting a wife-- a life-long lover-- in a couple days. Soon he would have the much more intimate physical closeness and gratification that his body craved! He could have it whenever he wanted!

But he couldn’t help but feel that he would very much miss this special time with just him and Charlie, full of unspoken mutual appreciation, easy camaraderie and comfort….
- 2
- 3
- 4
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