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
- 7
- 8
- 9
A/N: Thanks for all the reads, rates and reviews! I love them…. They make me very happy!

Wow! A bunch of you guys are coming up with so many spot-on guesses as to what is already in the works— I hope it’s due to the subtle stuff I’ve sprinkled in along the way (and not that I’m simply predictable). You can all be chuffed when some of your theories pan out, knowing that you successfully ‘called it’!

And Haha, Hollibel— That’s what I love about guys. They are so unashamed about bodily functions; they burp, they fart, they scratch their balls. Gotta admire how cute being that uninhibited is!

~O~

BLURRY

“How do you feel?” Charlie asked as Harry fluttered his lids and blinked open his eyes. The redhead had been watching him for the past hour while he slept, so knew the moment he started stirring.

“Safe,” Harry answered honestly, still half-asleep. He rubbed his head on broad shoulder that was serving as his pillow, and then squirmed a little, giving a pained moan as he tried to stretch, “Achy…. Sore. I feel like I got trampled by a rampaging Hippogryph….”

Charlie chuckled, “Passing out repeatedly on hard-wood floors for four days will do that to you.” He slid out from under Harry and gently arranged him to lying on his stomach. “Take this off then,” he pushed the hem of the Molly-made jumper up as he straddled Harry; he let his fingertips lightly graze the velvety skin and lingered on the ridges of his spine while Harry fought and shimmied his way free of his sweater.

He was enthralled as the expanse of the brunet’s back was exposed— the young man had such a beautiful body!   The dragon-handler’s prick, already a little perked with attention at the small touches and suggestive position they were in, filled out more when the Harry sighed and relaxed under him, eyes closed and completely trusting. Charlie quickly tucked the tip of his hard-on in his waistband to keep it from heavily hanging on Harry’s hind-end before he started the massage.

Harry’s let out a huge groan as the man hovering over him started to knead the aching-stiff muscles in his neck and shoulders. “Mmmmm…. Feels so good, Char,” he murmured, basking in bliss. Then, his breath hitched in embarrassment as he started to sprout a boner from the physical pleasure he was receiving; he had to shift his pelvis to allow it to grow up to the right, along the hollow under his hip-bone.

Charlie had to stifle a groan when the pert little buttocks wriggled under his thighs, threatening to come in contact with his crotch. He re-doubled his efforts, prodding and rubbing with more fervor, chasing after all those delightful heavy breaths and grunts that were dribbling out his mouth along with some drool— it was highly adorable, and arousing.

He gouged his thumbs in along the brunet’s shoulder blades, digging his knuckles in where he found knots; he pressed firmly with the heels of his square palms where he found tense spots. His fingertips alternated soothing and caressing his smooth skin before massaging deeper. Some vertebrae crackled and popped.

Charlie was reveling in his ability to provide pleasure and relief to the man he’d come to care so much about, impart some small measure of comfort. He squeezed the wiry biceps, manipulating the muscle and sinew all the way down to his fingers. He frowned at the pained whimper and when he looked closer, saw his knuckles were bruised and full of splinters (He grabbed his wand and quickly healed the evidence of Harry’s fights with the walls of the Shrieking Shack.)

When he worked his way up to Harry’s neck and shoulders again, and then down the center of his back, the body underneath him gave a violent shudder and an anguished sob. Within a couple seconds, Harry was sobbing mess-- tears and snot running down his face. Charlie kept up with his ministrations, but crooned to him, “That’s it…. Let it all out…. You’re fine, you’re safe….”

Harry was confused at being reduced to a gibbering pile of goo all of a sudden.

He never cried! Not like this! He was bawling and blubbering-- and he didn’t even know why!

(He wasn’t upset over Ginny really, and he still had his friends— well, Ron and Hermione anyway-- his roommate might still leave once the truth was out). He faintly heard Charlie explaining that the same thing happened to him once, that people carried tension and negative emotions deep in their cells and tissue; that this was a good thing to get rid of some of it.

After what seemed to Harry an embarrassingly long time of uncontrollable wailing and weeping-- all the rejection, loneliness, fear and depression he’d ever felt flowing out of him-- he calmed and felt a profound sense of peace. “I’m sorry, Char…. I’ve never done that before,” he sniffled, mumbling in mortification against the strong chest and arms that were holding him.

He was hushed and shushed and given sweet platitudes of ‘don’t be sorry, don’t be silly’, ‘best it happened’ and ‘things will be better now’ as his face was cleaned with a warm wet cloth.

Neither of the Gryffindor men noticed the door shut silently.

~O~

Hermione returned to the Common Room after she’d hung back from delivering the breakfast tray to Harry and Charlie. She’d hovered by their door, wanting to help but unwilling to interrupt such an important moment in Harry’s recovery, while he was finally excising some of the things his subconscious had suppressed. She left the food under stasis in the hall, confident they would find it when they surfaced, and rejoined Ron on the couch. She sighed in weary sadness, staring up the staircase. “He’s always had so many terrible crosses to bear….”

“What happened up there?” her boyfriend queried, toying with a curl of her hair, feeling apprehensive at the contradictory mix of emotions of relief and heart-wrenched worry on the witch’s face.

Hermione thumped her head down (quite painfully, though he’d never admit that it hurt) on his shoulder. She was quiet for so long he thought she wouldn’t answer, but then she said in a scared voice, “He was crying. He’s never vented his feelings like that.”

Ron gave a half-shrug (of the arm that wasn’t weighed down by a genius super-brain), “He’s let a few tears go before— at Remus’ memorial and Fred’s funeral…. He’s probably just mourning the death of his marriage.”

“No, I mean, he was really crying! He was sobbing so badly he could barely breathe! I’m surprised you couldn’t hear him all the way down here!”

“Well, they ARE on the seventh floor,” Ron figured-- then once he’d had a moment to think it over, he recoiled and looked at her in terror as if she’d suddenly turned into an Acromantula; his muscles poised to run up the stairs but his girlfriend held him back. “If Charlie has done anything to make it worse….” he growled.

“No! No…. He’s getting him through it,” Hermione stopped that train of thought and proceeded to give a lecture (as much to calm her own nerves as to inform Ron on the massage technique of ‘Rolfing’). “This is what he needs…. And as much as I want to be there for him, it seems like your brother is exactly what he needs right now.”

Ron was still disconcerted that Harry had broken down (though secretly relieved that it wasn’t up to him to pick up the pieces— he was pants at that sort of thing!). “So why did you say they were ‘cross’ if he was really just sad?”

Hermione huffed with fond exasperation at the over-simplified way men described emotions (boys!). “He’s not simply ‘sad’ and crying and nobody is just ‘angry’. I meant the idiom ‘a heavy cross to bear’, like saying he’s had burden on top of burden in his life-- far more than anyone else. I wished him to have had a bit of cheerfulness after he made so many sacrifices….”

“That’s true,” Ron agreed. “Harry’s always had to deal with too much….” He turned thoughtful for a few minutes, then asked, “Why is a cross a burden? I always thought it meant ‘pain and suffering’, like reading tea-leaves? I thought a cross symbolized the bones in a ‘skull-and-cross-bones’ since poisons hurt you.”

Hermione’s mouth gave a genuine smile for the first time in days. “That may be true, but it comes from history when criminals were sentenced to be crucified, but to add insult to injury, they had to carry the very implement they were to be killed upon. So the death wasn’t the only bad part-- although that was one of the most barbaric, inhumane ways to die-- they had to assist their own murder by carrying a heavy load beforehand.”

“That’s horrible!” Ron exclaimed. “How could Muggles do that?”

Hermione scowled, “How could Wizards subject people to Dementors and The Kiss?” Then she relented, “To hear about punishment is never pleasant, especially for those who don’t deserve it.”

“Like that Christmas guy? Like Harry?” Ron asked.

Then Hermione really did laugh, reminding her of why she loved him and the funny, innocent associations her boyfriend’s mind made; he balanced her out, keeping her from being so damned serious all the time!

“Remember my tea-leaf reading for Harry in third year? I told him he was going to suffer!” Ron announced triumphantly, and then his face crumpled and fell. “I predicted he’d be happy about it though….”

“Ron,” Hermione said with the utmost of affection, “Perhaps all this hardship he’s been going through will lead him to the happiness….”

Her boyfriend sunk more deeply in the sofa cushions and said, “I hope so. Charlie’s a great guy. If it works out that way, he’ll be great to him.”

“Oh?” she quirked an eyebrow. “So you admit now that I might be right about your brother’s feelings for Harry?”

“Yeah, because you’re brilliant,” he answered with a sweet smile. “Ever since you first mentioned it-- and especially about how that Roger guy even kind-of resembles Harry-- I’ve been noticing things…. from both of them. They’ve gotten really close, you know,” then remarked as an afterthought, “Harry’s got to be blind not to see the way Char looks at him. Maybe he needs a crystal ball to see into the beyond,” he sniggered, knowing mentioning that imprecise branch of magic triggered her ire.

The clever witch frowned. “I doubt it’s on Harry’s radar at all that Charlie could fancy him. I mean, you heard him say he was disgusting. Ginny’s made his self-image so poor that he thinks himself utterly unappealing…. And we still don’t know for sure if he could be gay.”

Trying to joke to dispel the depressing mood that was sinking in, Ron adopted a dramatic misty tone, doing a rather bad impression of Sybil Trelawney, “I foresee the down-trodden hero rising mightier than before! My inner-eye tells me he will find true love with a man because his horrible wife turned him off of females forever!” which made Hermione burst out giggling.

“So you admit that Divination isn’t completely a wooly discipline? That I actually made an accurate prediction in third year?” poking fun at his girlfriend who would always see it as a bunch of rot-- and added after a pause, not entirely teasingly, “Trelawney did foresee that he would die…. and later said he would live a long life.”

“Yes, well, even a broken clock is right twice a day,” she answered dryly. She loved the play of expressions on her lover’s face as he worked things over in his mind and then came to comprehension; she loved it when she made him think and then made him laugh!

They were both quiet awhile after the chuckles died down, snuggling into each other and the couch, enjoying the solitude while the others were still away on Holiday with family. “Speaking of ‘right’,” Ron said softly, “Did you get all that research and paperwork together? For whatever Harry decides?”

“Yeah, it’s all right here,” Hermione nudged a small stack of file folders on the coffee table with her heel, “Ready for signatures. If that’s what he wants.”

Ron gave her a big smooch on her forehead, “Have I told you recently how brilliant you are?”

“Yes,” she smiled and squeezed him tighter, “but I never tire of hearing it….” and gave him a heart-melting kiss. “You are quite something yourself…. and behaving quite admirably about the thought that Harry might want to leave your sister.”

“After hearing what she said to him—and about you!-- I can only hope that he would!” Ron declared vehemently, and then continued in a more wistful tone, “If he could be attracted to blokes, and love Charlie like he loves him, that would make everyone very happy.” He brushed his lips over hers. “As happy as we are together.”

Hermione murmured, “Maybe not Ginny….”

“SHE never loved him,” Ron scoffed. “She only wanted the fame and fortune. Besides, she’s with Demelza, (he spat the word as if it was a dreadful disease) it’s not like he’d be dropping her and she’d end up all alone.”

“Yes, well, I’m not all that worried about her to tell you the truth. No offense,” the witch added in a concession to her beau’s feelings for family (and smirked when we waved her concern off dismissively). “All I care about is Harry right now. He’s in a bad place being shackled to that shrew, but now that we know about it, he’s going to have to confront her and things can only get better.”

“I’ll show you ‘better’, you sexy woman!” he purred and pounced, causing her to yelp and giggle; he captured and quieted her laughing mouth in a deep kiss, taking advantage of their rare privacy in the Common Room (and proceeded to fulfill a fantasy they both had of fucking in front of the fire in the usually-public place).

~O~

“Sooooo,” Charlie started, wondering how to bring up the subject that had been ignored all day.

He’d been stewing in it ever since Hermione cornered him that afternoon, insisting he initiate a talk with Harry about his sexuality and experience with sex, what had happened on Christmas Eve with Ginny and to try to un-do some of the ‘brain-washing’ she made him believe about himself. That last part didn’t sound good but maybe with a few well-chosen questions he could figure it out.

It had been easy to avoid, since Harry wasn’t talking after falling back asleep, all worn-out following his admittedly first real cry (and the exhaustion of the four days prior)-- and then later, while eating the meal left for them outside their door, Harry tried to maintain a semblance of everything was normal; Charlie took his cues from the brunet, and humoured him by acting like nothing was amiss.

After that, there was the opening of his Christmas presents that he hadn’t had the chance to get on the Holiday itself (Charlie was happy his dragon-hide boots were so well-received— Harry’s heart-felt awed and enthusiastic reaction was if he’d never received a custom-made gift in his life!— but left him irritated that Ginny had gotten her new husband the same exact generic racing gloves that she had gotten him and Ron).

They had finally convinced Harry to come down for dinner and then once back in the Common Room, they were all experiencing the stifling, oppressiveness of ‘the elephant in the room’ phenomenon. Hermione produced a huge, cheesy fake yawn and all but dragged Ron to their room claiming they were ‘So tired, and turning-in early,’ giving Charlie a pointed glare. Ron muttered ‘goodnight’-- and then, ‘good call’ when his girlfriend had the cleverness and foresight to take the pot of Floo powder from the mantle and with them into their room.

But Charlie was uncharacteristically nervous. How was he supposed to play couples-counselor to the man he fancied? Could he be impartial with his advice about possibly saving a marriage that he wouldn’t mind fell apart, just so that he might get a chance?

“It’s all right,” Harry said, shaking his head slightly— cutting across his inner turmoil, “I know what she’s doing. You don’t have to go through with it if you don’t want to.” Before Charlie could think of a rebuttal, the brunet sighed, “No one wants to deal with a freak…. Really, it’s fine. I don’t blame you. Go on up— I give you your ‘out’ with my blessing.” He kicked his socked-feet a bit at the throw cushions.

Charlie stared in confusion for a bit, and then latched onto the thing that stood out the most. “Freak? You’re not a freak. I don’t even know where you got that….” At Harry’s skeptical expression he clarified, “Yes, you’ve had so many unusual experiences but that doesn’t mean you’re any less human!” Harry gave him a more jaded, dirty look.

“Look, you’re fine!” Charlie was at a loss of words to explain, “Shit, I’m fucking this up before I even start!” he ran a hand through his shoulder-length auburn curls in frustration at his own inadequacy. “Hermione said you weren’t able to talk to her or Ron about sex…. Or anyone else for that matter…. She briefly mentioned Ginny has been feeding you false information; she wants me to clear up some stuff for you. I want to help, if I can.”

Harry sighed. “She tried to tell me last night that Ginny was wrong. But Ginny thinks I’m strange and disgusting with what I like— and the odds are is that I am. Look, this is weird, are you sure you can stomach hearing about your sister having sex?”

“It’s fine, I’m just concerned about you. Are there any questions you want to ask me?”

“I don’t know. I don’t even know how to start with something like this. Should I lie down on the couch, Doc?” at Charlie’s puzzled expression, he clarified, “Sorry. I’m nervous. Bad joke. It’s a Muggle psychiatrist thing…”

“Well, if you’re more comfortable that way, then by all means, do it.” And it actually was better for Harry. He could relax more and didn’t have to be talking face to face during what was guaranteed to be awkward and disconcerting discussion. After he was settled, Charlie began. “Let’s start with the easy part first, then. What do you like about having sex?” (Charlie was warming up to this now— he was getting a bit excited about the prospect of learning what turned him on.)

Harry’s shaggy head shook a little and he remained silent— it would sound too odd to say ‘nothing’.

Charlie furrowed his brow. “You don’t have to be embarrassed, you know you can say anything and it won’t shock me,” he encouraged. Still Harry remained mute. “Well,” he tried offering some obvious answers, “Orgasms are always nice.”

Harry made a small gurgling, choking sound.

“What attracted you to Ginny in the first place? What made you want to marry her?”

That, he knew. “When we were in school, I liked that she was funny and loved Quidditch…. Everyone agreed she was pretty but not all girly. The other girl I kissed before was on her house team but she was either giggling or crying all the time. That was annoying and I couldn’t stand it.” He shook his head again to dispel the memory of Cho and his really bad first kiss.

“Ginny and I broke up before the Horcrux Hunt, but it was kind-of implied that if I survived we would end up together, like we were just on a break, then I would really be part of the family if I made it. She wanted to be my wife since she was ten…. And that’s what everyone is supposed to want, right? A wife, family, kids? I guess I saw marrying her would provide all that. I wanted a best friend I could have sex with.”

Something wasn’t sitting right with Charlie. “So it was the idea that this was the thing to do? Not that you were head over heels in love?”

Harry nodded, “Ginny wasn’t the same after The War— and I wasn’t either. She wasn’t as much fun to be around and we didn’t have anything to talk about. Well, she spoke about herself but didn’t want to listen to me. Though by then, her and Molly were planning the wedding and it was the only thing that seemed to make them come alive. I would have destroyed your family— and myself to be shunned and left all alone— if I had called a halt to it.”

Charlie held his tongue against the tirade he wanted to launch into over the man’s sacrifice but continued with a thought he’d had earlier. “But there had to be something that attracted you to her, beyond the concept of a happily-ever-after scenario. You mentioned some personality qualities that drew you to her, but what do you like about her physically?”

Now Harry frowned. After experiencing sex with her and all the hurtful things she had done to him, he felt nothing physical towards her— but what had he enjoyed about her before all that?

At the prolonged silence, the elder Weasley suggested, “Some men like breasts.” (Silence.) “Some are leg-men, or ass-men…. Charlie prompted and saw Harry’s nose wrinkle, “Pussy kind-of goes without saying,” he added and was confused by the brunet’s grimace. “What about her body got you horny?”

What had he desired? What had got him aroused? “Ummm…. She’s got nice skin…. I like hot breath in my ear….”

Charlie chuckled, “So, you like someone who likes Quidditch,” he ticked off on his fingers, “Weasley family member, not girly, funny, has got nice skin, and hot breath. You do realize you just described me as well,” he teased.

Harry blanched— it was true!

“Relax,” the redhead chuckled, mistaking his look of horror. “I’m kidding. I just described Ron and George as well,” he said, masking his disappointment that Harry apparently found the notion repugnant; he used humour to hide the hurt, “At least we know that you aren’t into necrophilia! You know, because they don’t breathe….”

“Neck— what?” Harry asked.

“It’s the fetish of people who like to have sex with dead bodies.”

“That— oh, good one!” Harry dismissively and sarcastically rolled his eyes.

“No, it’s a real thing. Rare, I’m sure, but there wouldn’t be a name for it if it didn’t exist.” Charlie said with such sincerity that Harry lost a bit of skepticism. After all, there was a whole lot he didn’t know about sex. “I’ll bet you seven sickles it’s in that book Hermione gave you.”

Harry blushed, “You saw that, did you?”

“Kinda hard to miss as it was on the food tray she brought us. There are probably a lot of things in there you’d never imagine could be true. There are about as many definitions of sexuality as there are people on the planet. All of it is cool, as long as it’s consensual and doesn’t hurt anybody— unless of course, that’s what they want.”

“Ginny said I was a pain-freak,” Harry said abruptly. Charlie blinked. So that’s where he got that word! “Said I was ‘creepy’ for pinching and twisting my nipples.”

“She did? That’s…. ridiculous! Males having their nipples played with is incredibly common!” at Harry’s glance over at him in disbelief, he told him, “Seriously, it’s very much normal. Every guy I’ve been with likes it.”

“Hermione mentioned something about biting, too. Is that a real thing too?” he whispered.

“Sure,” Charlie answered, still trying to wrap his head around how his sister thought that simple act was so deviant.

“She doesn’t like me tugging on my balls either,” he murmured. “Is that weird that it feels good to me?”

“Who’s to say one way or another? If it turns you on and doesn’t hurt someone else, you’re fine. Sexuality is very creative and individualistic.”

“Take my friend Vlad— he really likes cross-dressing. He’s straight, only has sex with women, but on his own time, he gets all gussied up, and I mean ALL the way, with make-up, stockings, high-heels, the whole bit. Looks terrible as a bint, mind you, because he’s so muscular and hairy, but it makes him feel sexy. Doesn’t hurt anyone by it— well, maybe my eyes a little— but who am I to tell him it’s wrong when it makes him happy? Another friend of mine can’t get off if he isn’t stroking a fuzzy toilet seat-cover with his fingers, because he found his first gratification in the bathroom of his childhood home. That is very unusual, but again, harmless.”

Harry gave a little nervous laugh, wanting more than anything to believe Charlie that what he enjoyed was normal.

“There was a guy I dated for a little while,” the dragon-handler continued, “he was into some hardcore bondage and I wasn’t. I didn’t really like whipping and paddling him, but when he asked me to do blood-play-- cutting with knives and using hooks and needles on him I broke it off. We just didn’t like the same things.” Harry was shocked. That didn’t sound sexy to him at all! He shuddered as he flashed on being restrained in the graveyard with Wormtail and Voldemort.

“I don’t really like pain, just for pains-sake,” Harry mumbled, “I’ve had enough of that to last me a lifetime,” he sighed wearily (and Charlie thought that was totally understandable). “I just need a little….”

“Bite?” the redhead asked. “Sting? Edge?”

“Yeah,” the brunet agreed with that description, “a little roughness on top of the pleasure. She thinks it’s ‘gross’. I think the harsh treatment she received during her last year at Hogwarts—,” Charlie looked murderous and Harry hurried to reassure him, “NO! I asked, she wasn’t raped or molested! But I think it made her sensitive to that. Everything she likes is so…. gentle…. and too slow! It doesn’t work for me. I need something more…. faster, harder. And she doesn’t like it.”

Charlie was thoughtful a moment, “Sex is about losing control, getting all primal and carnal and bringing out our animal roots with wild instincts taking over,” his prick twitched at the thought of Harry letting go and abandoning his inhibitions. “I would have thought that her fiery temper would have translated into hell-cat passion in the bedroom.”

“I did too!” Harry exclaimed, glad to have one theory in common with someone else, even if it was erroneous. “But sex with her is like wiping a cotton ball on a burnt potion when you really need a wire brush to clean it out.”

Charlie was silent for several seconds, until he burst out with, “BA-ha-ha-ha-HAH! Holy shit, Harry! Did you seriously just compare my sister’s cunt to a crusty cauldron?!” He was still shaking with unrestrained guffaws and stomping his feet as Harry tried to explain.

“Yeah, I mean no!” (Jeez, what WAS it with him and his weird analogies?!) “I— SHE’S the cotton ball, totally ineffectual to get the burnt part off! She’s too soft! I need a wire brush! I’m the hard char!”

Charlie’s chuckles died out as he heard the words. “No…. I’m Char,” he corrected with a glint in his eye, passing a palm over his crotch, “and hard…. I need a little brush of wire now and then….” He waggled his eyebrows, even though Harry couldn’t see it, leering at Harry’s lean wiry frame with appreciation. Making innuendo where there was none intended was one of his special talents.

Harry blurted out the first thing that came to his mind. “You like it a little rough too? Can’t get off without some force behind the touch?”

Charlie gasped so suddenly at the hopeful innocence in Harry’s voice that he choked a little as he inhaled some of his own spit; it would be completely adorable if it wasn’t so sad that he was desperate to hear that he was normal.

“That’s why I like fucking men more than women,” he stammered out, gathering more confidence as he carried on, “Females are nice, in their own way— and some can get pretty wild— but you have to be a lot more careful with them; it’s nothing like the full-on sexual wrestling you can do with a man.”

Harry’s blood was pounding in his ears, remembering the image of Charlie grappling and pinning Bill down at The Burrow last summer. Is that what he looked like when he was fucking? His curls whipping around his flushed face, muscles rippling and a feral smile gracing his expression as he dominated another? He felt a twinge in his penis…. And almost didn’t hear him going on:

“Guys just ‘get’ other guys better, what feels good to the male body…. Like how a blow-job from a bloke is infinitely better than one from a girl.”

Harry snorted, and before he could stop himself he said bitterly, “I wouldn’t know.”

Charlie blinked in surprise, “You’ve never had oral sex?”

“Well she had me do it to her, but no, she won’t do it to me.”

“’Won’t’?” Charlie growled, and then had to clarify. “Do you mean she just hasn’t? With some girls you have to ask them to….”

“I did ask the day after I did it for her, but she said she didn’t have to, that she— what was it?— Oh yeah, ‘didn’t need to reel me in with favours because we were already married’. But if it’s the price to pay for never having to lick her down there again, I’m happy for it. It was disgusting! I don’t know how people stand it! It’s slimy and stinky and made me so nauseous I threw up afterward. Anyway,” he tried to hide his disappointment with a nonchalant shrug, “I can’t miss what I’ve never had.”

“Fuck!” Charlie hissed. “Giving and receiving oral pleasure is one of the greatest things ever! Granted, eating pussy is an acquired taste, but I can’t believe how selfish she has been! Wouldn’t even give a half-assed attempt? Sorry, I know she’s your wife, but I call ‘Bitch’!”

He got up and started to pace by the fire, working himself up into a terrific rant. “That’s messed up! That’s something you do while dating, working up to intercourse. But I guess you never got that…. Hermione’s right! If Mum hadn’t have cock-blocked you, you could have figured out that the sex wasn’t that great and found a way to let her down gently. I mean, who wants to be married to someone where the sex and climaxes are mediocre at best!”

Harry made a scoffing ‘tch’ noise in the back of his throat, “I wouldn’t know about that either.” Charlie stopped so abruptly he stumbled and almost fell on his butt; the look on his face had Harry shrinking back into the couch cushions.

“What did you say?” he slowly spat, seething with eyes narrowed, glaring down at the brunet that was actually a bit scared by the man just then (he might have even made a little meek ‘meep’ noise).

“I… erm…. I thought I told you earlier, none of the sex I’ve had with Ginny has gotten me off? I don’t get enough sensation?” Charlie was staring at him, dumbfounded, puffing up in an imposing stance.

Harry didn’t know what to do so he started babbling. “It doesn’t do anything for me! I have to think about what I do when I toss-off just to stay hard enough until she takes her pleasure and is done! I almost came once but she didn’t like how I was doing it…. Eventually, just the smell of her was enough to turn me off, making me think of being teased and criticized and left unsatisfied!”

Charlie’s mind was reeling. He’d been taking in so much information all at once that he hadn’t realized what all was being said. But a thought was starting to take shape, the more he was able to digest it. (Maybe he really had been picking up a vibe from Harry that night on the back porch all those months ago, only it had been entirely unconscious on the young man’s part):

The two girls he’d been with, both athletic and what ‘everyone else’ had decided were pretty (but the one he settled on was decidedly ‘not girly’), the fact that he’d never had any time for any deep self-examination and going along with what he thought he should want, the smell and taste of vagina was ‘disgusting’ and ‘made him sick’ (even the feel of fucking a pussy didn’t keep him hard), didn’t have a penchant for any particular female body part, for that matter….

But he didn’t want to scare him off by asking outright…

“Harry,” he started slowly, kind-of the way he’d coaxed that Fireball fledgling that had taken his first flight right up into a tree but was too frightened to let go and glide back down to the forest floor. “What was the subject of your first wet dream?”

The brunet looked taken aback, abruptly stopping his anxious chatter. “Um…. I honestly don’t know.” He looked a little flustered, but the redhead nodded encouragingly. “I remember I was twelve and really surprised when I woke up all messy. It only happened the one time…. I’ve not thought about it much. Why?”

“Just curious,” Charlie replied, trying to sound totally casual, cautious about how to get to the heart of what the young man truly desired. “What do you think about when you masturbate? What gets you off?”

Harry frowned…. What did he think about? “Erm… Myself?”

Charlie tried to lighten the mood with a joke to cover his confusion, “I always thought you said the whole hero-worship ‘Chosen One’ stuff was utter shit?”

“I— no! That came out wrong! I think about how my body feels, the sensations-- not that I fantasize about fucking myself like there are two of me!”

“Relax, relax…. I was just teasing. I was just thinking the way guys are usually pretty visual in what attracts them, what they picture in their minds’ eye.” (Interesting…. he enjoyed touching male parts while tossing off, even if it was just his own body.)

Harry seemed to droop. “So I’m not normal then, you say.”

“I told you before, whatever gets you off is perfectly fine. Has anything specific caught your attention, made you aroused? Any specific type of porn?”

“I have only seen a couple photos of naked women when I was in school, but I wasn’t really interested. I had too much on my mind….”

As for what got him hot, Harry had to think. He got boners all the time now, it didn’t matter what was going on around him. Except ever since the honeymoon, he didn’t feel randy around Ginny anymore. He had thought that it was the negative way she made him feel, with her words and her actions.

He tried to imagine himself with another woman, any woman, real or imagined. He shook his head; all he could think of was that smell…. And the wrinkled, wound-like look of female genitals.

Charlie prodded softly, “Have you ever found a male attractive?”

The instant red-blush gracing the brunet’s features was a tell-tale sign. He stammered, “I-I noticed Cedric was g-good-looking…. But that was in an aesthetic, artistic sort of way, like girls can see another lady is pretty!” he defended. Charlie murmured, ‘that he was’, remembering the gorgeous (of age) Hogwart’s champion during the Tournament.

But then Harry remembered Snape’s memory of taking his O.W.L.s and thought Sirius had appeared ‘rather haughty and bored, but very handsomely so’. There were some times when he’d looked at Charlie and felt some admiration….

“H-how did you know that you liked both boys and girls?”

“I dunno….” The redhead started, trying to think back to when he first realized and tried to make it sound like it was no big deal….. “I think it was when some blokes caught my eye…. I think the test is to imagine your mouth on them…. On their lips, or if you’d like to have your tongue roam their body….”

Harry blanched and Charlie wished he could’ve known what thought just crossed his mind. The brunet had just remembered that it was imagining kissing Charlie and feeling his goatee that got him through that hellish ordeal of giving Ginny oral sex! And he’d randomly, briefly wondered what it would be like to place his teeth and lips around the dragon-handler’s scar from the Hebridean hatchling!

Did that count?

Would he want Charlie to be the best friend that he could have sex with? (He had fleetingly thought of him when Ginny was trying to convince him that it was normal and perfectly reasonable that she took pleasure with her best friend because there was no chance at conception— but the rest of the argument had made the notion flee his mind.) And the most vexing thing was that, although not the most conventional choice, it already seemed that they were far more compatible than he and his wife ever had been.

He couldn’t really think about it right now. First he had to figure out what to do about his marriage.

He already knew he didn’t want to stay with Ginny, hadn’t felt right about them together since before it happened, really. Empowered now by his friends’ support, he thought he just might be able to escape the crappy situation he’d been stuck in since August (and that thought filled him with hope).

Too much had happened for him to like her much, even as just a friend— and he certainly didn’t want to have to spend any more time with her than he had to, much less keep up a farce of a loving couple for the sake of others. They hadn’t touched each other in an intimate way in months, which was a relief to him rather than a disappointment.

He needed to be free of her. He wanted someone he could be himself with…. and happy! And satisfied, the way SHE was with HER lover!

“Well, she has Demelza for that, doesn’t she?!” he suddenly yelled and missed the flabbergasted look on the redhead’s face at the non sequitur outburst. “If I never have to touch or lick her nasty snatch again— fine by me! Let that witch have her! I’d rather be alone!”

Charlie spluttered, “What are you on about? You’re not making any sense!”

“Didn’t they tell you? Ginny HAS the lover she always wanted! Well, she has the image of Hero’s Wife she’s always wanted AND the sex-partner she’s kept to provide the type of love-making she prefers. I’m sick of it! I want out!” He was so riled up he hadn’t realized he’d risen from the sofa and was pacing like a caged animal himself, much like how Charlie had been just moments before, violently running his fingers through his hair.

The older man’s mind was scrambling, trying to keep up with this entirely unexpected turn of events. What was he saying?! Ginny was cheating on him? With that odd little bint that was staying at The Burrow?!

“NO!” he screamed. “No one told me! FUCK!!!!” He felt like tearing his hair out too; how was this even possible? Everyone had just knowingly let Harry be a cuckold and in an unhappy sham of a marriage? He was so angry he wanted to punch someone! (namely Ginny). He rushed to the hearth, intent on Floo-ing to The Burrow straight away and having out with his little sister, fingers scrambling over the empty space where the pot usually rested.

The powder was missing! It was gone!

He didn’t hear Harry pleading with him over the blood rushing in his ears, making him see red. Hermione, hearing the commotion (after wondering in curiosity about the loud laughter earlier and then her not-so-much surprise at the shouting) grew concerned at the level of animosity coming from the Common Room. Something was very wrong if the usually easy-going Charlie was vehemently screaming and seemingly incoherent with madness.

She entered the room and was suddenly accosted by strong hands grabbing her in a vice-like grip on her shoulders, shaking enough to make her teeth rattle. “You knew? You knew?!” the deranged redhead yelled, flecking her face with spittle. “Give me the powder, witch! She hurt him! She hurt him!” he babbled, screeching in pain and outrage.

“Stop, STOP!” Harry was tugging on his bulging bicep with one hand and around his waist with the other. Hermione slapped the hysterical man across his face and then backed off as she was let go. At Harry’s continued touch grounding him, Charlie shook his head to clear it and then crumpled to the floor, neutralized.

“Charles Arthur Weasley!” Hermione barked. “I KNOW you want to follow-up with the initial knee-jerk reaction and wring her neck…. We BOTH did-- when we found out on Christmas Eve,” she cast a quick glance towards the dormitories and saw Ron there, sleep-disheveled, but alert enough (with wand in hand) for back-up none-the-less.

“But we have to do this right. We can’t go over there half-cocked in the middle of the night. I have plans. I have legal options worked out,” she picked up some file folders that had been resting on the coffee table, gesturing and waving them at Charlie. “Harry needs time to figure out what’s best for him. We WILL discuss strategy in the morning, all right?”

Charlie took several deep, gulping breaths and then nodded.

Harry broke the tense silence, “I want to go to bed. We’ll talk about what to do tomorrow, ok? I can’t deal with it tonight….” and silently started his ascent of the stairs. His roommate just numbly stared at the Trio’s retreating backs before he tore after him.

~O~

“Are you sure the light won’t bother you?” Harry asked Charlie.

They’d had a bit of an awkward moment preparing for sleep; they both wanted to lie in Harry’s bed together again, but weren’t sure how to broach that topic. They’d dawdled over brushing their teeth and changing into pajamas, waiting for the other to bring it up.

Charlie really had no good reason to ask and left it up to Harry to invite him; the brunet thought it might be weird to ask Charlie to join him with no real reason for it, other than he liked it. Eventually, the redhead admitted defeat and settled on his own bed in disappointment when Harry told him he wasn’t tired (since he’d napped most of the day) and picked up the book Hermione had loaned him.

He stared at the cover. ‘The Encyclopedia of Wizarding Sexuality’: the stark black letters against plain, clinical white felt intimidating yet profound. Would it hold some sort of enlightenment for him? Did it hold the answers to the next chapters of his life like ‘Unfogging the Future’ supposedly did?

He opened to some place around the middle and promptly let out a blood-curdling shriek at what he saw written on the page, flinging the book up into his canopy in an involuntary reflex (and yelped in pain as the corner of the hardcover clocked him on the shin when it landed).

Charlie sniggered from where he was settling into his bed. He just had to know…. “What did you see that scared you so?”

“Something called ‘coprophilia’….” he shuddered a bit, (and then suddenly realized he didn’t want Charlie to think that he’d purposefully looked that up first thing!) “Reckon I should’ve started at the beginning instead of some random page in the second half that has the list of fetishes….”

Charlie chuckled. “Yeah, that one is pretty out there. But then again, a lot of kinks are. Best start with the basics and then work up to reading about the paraphilias…. G’night.” He fluffed his pillow and laid his head down. Making sure a few of his curls lay over his eyes and shadows obscured his face, he pretended to fall asleep while he kept his lids open a slit so he could watch Harry studying his sex book.

Harry flipped to the front and scanned the preface. It was generally the same thing both Hermione and Charlie had been saying, summarizing consent, arousal and the multi-varied thing but in much more flowery language, comparing people’s preferences and experiences with sexuality to being as individual and unique as snowflakes…. Blah, blah, blah.

He shuffled some more pages, skimming over the ‘Heterosexuality’ section; he knew the most about that. He stopped and lingered over the first moving picture of a couple making-love. He contemplated the woman’s body. He really didn’t understand the appeal of breasts; there was a nice, fit body, with long legs, smooth arms…. and then bam! Two jiggling, floppy globs of fat on the front….

Shit, maybe he WAS gay, then; it certainly would explain a lot.

So he sought out the ‘Homosexuality: Male’ chapters (he already knew he wasn’t into the female one— if he WAS he’d have at least stayed and watched Ginny and Demelza on Halloween, and at most, joined in.) Since he was familiar with the general definition, he searched for the pages that had photos.

His breath hitched when he spied a graphic depiction of two men, all hard muscles and lean lines, both giving blow-jobs to each other, simultaneously. They really looked like they were enjoying themselves! (He felt the thrill of a tingle in his penis.)

He was starting to understand the appeal of pornography now, and thought this book just might supply his imagination with something to fantasize about while he masturbated, like how Charlie had been surprised that he hadn’t been conjuring up provocative images in his mind’s eye. He’d just never SEEN sex before!

The next page featured an animated photo of two men having sex—face to face! (He’d never really given it much thought before; he knew the logistics of two men together in vague theory, but he’d never considered that position before-- people always said, “bending over” for someone when they made poof jokes, so he’d assumed it was always ‘doggy-style’.)

He stared in fascination. The angle of the camera came almost three-quarters of the way around them, showing off much of the action. He was mesmerized.

The squirming in his lower belly swirled and radiated out into the now-familiar sensation of growing desire (and he couldn’t help but bitterly think that if he’d seen such a thing five years ago, he could’ve figured some important things out about himself a long time ago— and saved himself a lot of grief!)

Chancing a glance confirming his roommate was asleep, he pressed a palm over his fully-hardened prick through his pajama pants.

He concentrated on the various body parts, remembering that Charlie said men were ‘visual’ and had certain ‘favourites’ that turned them on. The testicles were a little funny looking, though he definitely enjoyed the sight of the hard pecs and small, tight nipples— the grooves and lines playing and rippling between the muscles all over their bodies were pleasing as well.

But the thing that made him stare at the picture over and over in its unceasing repetitions was the dip that deepened on the side of the man’s forcefully thrusting buttocks; his eyes were riveted to that divot on his magnificent back-side, the muscles bunching and flexing as it rocked and pounded into his partner.

Unbeknownst to the brunet, Charlie was watching in avid (bordering on rabid) passion:

He’d been hard ever since Harry had quieted down and started perusing the book in earnest, just from knowing that the rather innocent young man was immersing himself with information about sex.

Charlie had to work really hard to keep his breathing even when he saw Harry’s first tentative touches to the tent at his crotch— but when his eyes had been stilled on the same page for several minutes and his hand strayed under his waistband and began tugging, (wow, he really wasn’t kidding when he said he liked it forceful!) it was all he could do to restrain himself from giving evidence to his pervy voyeurism. (And it was killing him that he couldn’t see what was turning Harry on so much!)

It didn’t take long at all until Harry’s body was spasming and jerking, and his breath was coming out in sharp, harsh pants; he fell back sated, whispering, “Fuck…. Fuck that’s good….” By the time he started in with some light snoring, Charlie pumped his own aching hard-on a few times until he came with a groan muffled in his pillow; he extinguished the lamp by Harry’s bed and dozed off himself, too tired to bother cleaning his sheets.

~O~

The first rays of dawn started to illuminate the room when Charlie was roused by the small whimpers he’d come to associate with Harry having a nightmare. He quickly crossed the ice-cold floor and slipped into the bed, fully prepared to wake the dreaming man but the pleading sounds from the brunet’s throat turned desperate and needy in a different way, and then he was roughly grabbed….

~~ Harry knew it was a dream: It had the fuzzy edges surrounding the scene in the typical surreal cerebral fashion…. But it was different than usual. He couldn’t remember any time he’d felt extreme arousal during a nighttime vision, but he was definitely feeling incredibly horny right now!

He was sitting with Charlie in what he knew to their room (but it looked nothing like the bedroom they currently shared in real life) and struggling to clean a cauldron by hand, books piled high around him. Charlie approached him with a long, round-ended rust-coloured metal scrub-brush and said, “Want help? You don’t have to do that all alone.” And although there were snowflakes blowing all around, it was not cold. He was very warm. But as he contemplated that, there was a burst of chill before things got hotter than before.

Then Charlie’s strong, sturdy frame was embracing him, so close together that he could smell the scent that reminded him of safety and all good-feelings-- of leather, the slight tang of broom-stick polish and the musky, earthy odor of fresh male sweat. He immediately latched on to the meaty muscles and shifted them to be side by side, front to front. Plastering his chest to the heavily panting torso and burying his nose into the crook of the other mans’ neck, he thrust his hips forward.

The friction of another hard body against his hard cock was SUBLIME!

He dug his fingers into the broad shoulder blades and used them to leverage his pelvis into a sweet, punishing pace of rutting against the other man and then clenched a fist-full of Charlie’s curls at the back of his head, the other hand reaching down to force their lower-halves tighter together.

He was unashamed of the moans and grunts that were spilling from him lips…. It was soooooo good! He was racing towards ecstasy….

HE WAS NEARLY THERE! OH GOD, SO CLOSE! ~~

Harry came with a hoarse shout, sinking his teeth into firm flesh, mind buzzing-blank with physical satisfaction, panting, and his heart racing with a tempo like he’d just done a particularly risky Wronskei Feint-- and then he slowly began waking up as blood returned to his brain enough to function more coherently and aware.

The first thing he noticed was that he was not alone.

The second thing was that it appeared he had indeed acted out what he’d been dreaming about as a wetness spread on the cloth of his pants and there really was a solid body pressed to his (and on the collar-bone under his chin, a bruise forming in the shape of his jaws).

He was instantly mortified. He cringed. What could he say? He’d just violently sexually assaulted his friend like a feral animal! And what, exactly, was the proper etiquette after accidently wetting someone with your ejaculate? (Simply saying ‘sorry’ didn’t seem to cut it.)

He kept blinking madly, frozen in indecision until his bedmate found his voice, “Please don’t apologize.”; it was shaky with some unnamed emotion he couldn’t place until he found the courage to look him in the eye. They locked gazes and he found the piercing blue irises almost completely engulfed in black dilation. Was that lust?

A trembling freckled hand snaked its way down his fevered body and snuck in between them, cupping and trailing through the spooj that sullied their skin. Harry’s hips bucked in surprise at the sensation on his super-sensitized bits, the deliberate reverent touch caused another spurt of semen out of his spent cock. He watched in disbelief at the most erotic thing he ever saw: Those digits slick with his spunk were slowly lifted and slid in between Charlie’s sensuous lips.

“You are so beautiful, Harry,” he purred, sucking and savoring the taste. “So delicious….” he moaned, lids fluttering closed; Harry couldn’t help another involuntary thrust of his pelvis at the husky tone and sexy sight (now very aware of the thick, stiff, scorching length that rubbed along his hip-bone).

“Yes!” the redhead gave a strangled screech, swallowed in his throat under his bobbing Adam’s apple— and Harry felt several pulses of the swollen appendage against his abdomen, bringing a new wetness that coated him under his navel. When Charlie was able to catch his breath, he asked with a slight wheeze, “Do you remember what your wet-dream was about this time, Harry?”

“Yeah,” he answered with awe in his hushed tone, amazed that he had aroused the older man so much that it had been easy to get him to climax; it gave him the confidence to tell the truth. “It was you, Char….”

They both were just staring at each other, speechless (and Charlie’s eyes kept darting towards Harry’s lips) until they were jarred out of whatever strange reality that had overtook them by an incessant tapping on their window. They both tried to ignore it, but it only got worse.

“Bloody fucking bird!” Harry swore in frustration as they heard the glass crack. He angrily got out of bed and stomped over-- with weak knees— to open the sash.

A surly looking owl soared in with a large scroll containing several pieces of parchment attached to its leg; the raptor held out its limb with what looked like extreme irritation (if the yellow-eyed glare and ruffled feathers were any indication) until the brunet relieved it of its load. (Somehow, the annoyed avian messenger managed to snarkily cuff both Harry and Charlie on the back of the head with each wing as it left.)

The redhead watched its departure, shivering in the burst of freezing winter air and mentally cursing the rotten timing of the post-- but then his eyes widened when he saw the symbol in the wax blob binding the pages closed. “The Gringott’s seal?”

~O~

A/N: Ok, that turned out WAY longer than anticipated! But a lot had to happen (and seemed most right for such an eventful day to be kept all-together). The ‘talk’ with Charlie and the crappy-bad honeymoon were the two scenes that gave me the idea for this story in the first place, so I can only wish I did them justice….

Hope all you beautiful readers come back for the next go. We will be heading off to The Burrow to settle things there, (among some other loose ends) so that sucky-Het sex can make way for hot-Homo action! (Well, at least consciously and on purpose this time ;)

Thanks again for all the reads, rates and reviews…. Love you all!
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WONKY CROSS