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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
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A/N: Thanks for all the reads, rates and reviews! You guys are awesome and making this lowly fanfic author extremely happy! You all have such lovely things to say.

I’m grateful for the faithful followers that continue to grace me with happy feelings in the form of hits and reviews—but I also have to give a special thanks to those who were admittedly, non-chronic responders…. But felt moved enough to do so anyway! That attention is SO precious!

Just a thought to keep in mind as you read this chapter, to get a vague idea of number amounts (totally lifted from Harry Potter Wiki):

1 Galleon = 5 pounds = 10.07 US dollars.

~O~

CLARITY

Charlie was mentally cursing the interruption made by the bank’s bird, but the moment was lost; he would, however, be revisiting the possibility that his gorgeous roommate— who had just come all over him— might be attracted to him. (He didn’t even want to think that the only reason the wet dream was about him only because he just happened to be there!) But it would have to wait until Harry attended to a couple serious pieces of business and Charlie watched for signs of trouble on the brunet’s face.

Harry popped open the thick packet and read the first page:

****

Greetings Mr. Potter,

In addition to sending your quarterly reports and statement, we are writing today as a courtesy we extend to our customers whenever there is a significant change in account activity.

While we realize you were married before the end of the summer and the 500 Galleons you withdrew August first were most likely to cover the expenses of your nuptials, and your recurring monthly owl delivery of 5 Galleons to your person has remained unchanged (the 40 Galleon withdrawal made to you on December tenth, in what we assume was for your human holiday season, not-withstanding), several store credit accounts have been added to your portfolio of the Potter Vault beginning on August fourteenth, with more accruing to the total of nine establishments in Diagon Alley by the end of the quarter.

(Your Black Vault still remains untouched as of June 1995.)

While it is not unusual for newly married couples to open accounts with the various shops they frequent, it comes to our attention that none of the Purchase Invoice-vouchers were signed for by you, the Primary Vault-holder. Also, the total amount of the expenditures indicates a dramatic departure from your usual spending habits.

If the concern in this notice was reached in error, we apologize and you may disregard this letter.

Wishing you a prosperous new year,

Vault Manager, Ironhilt

*****

Harry scowled. How many Galleons had Ginny spent up to and including Christmas?

He flipped to the second page, which began like his usual statement— that he never studied in depth (he knew exactly how much money he got and used each month)-- but it looked entirely different below:

****

VAULT ACTIVITY SUMMARY—FALL QUARTER (10/1/1998-12/31/1998)

Black Account: Deposits -- 0. Withrawals – 0. Balance – 42,619,730 (G).

Potter Account: Deposits -- 0. Balance – 38,247,492 (G).

H. J. Potter,

Withrawals – 55 (G) Wizarding/Cash.

G. V. (W.) Potter,

Withdrawals – 2925 (G)

160 (G) Wizarding/Cash.

350 (G) Wizarding to Muggle/Cash Conversion.

Credit Accounts (9), Combined Total Charged – 2415 (G)
1. Queen for a Day: Beauty Boutique – 95 (G)
2. Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions – 176 (G)
3. Ribbons and Lace (Nora’s Naughty Notions) – 19 (G)
4. Clark’s Clothiers – 96 (G)
5. Fancy Feet Footwear – 39 (G)
6. Boots and Heels – 136 (G)
7. Flourish and Blott’s – 21 (G)
8. Herman’s Homegoods Haberdashery – 358 (G)
9. Quality Quidditch Supplies – 1475 (G)
(Each individual account statement attached.)

****

Harry blinked and looked at the numbers again. He didn’t think he’d even spent that much over the past seven and a half years!

It boggled his mind that it was even possible; his monthly expenses consisted of spending some pocket change in Hogsmeade, a birthday present for friends here and there and keeping the pot of Floo powder full at The Burrow. Whatever he had left over, he secretly slipped into the jar Molly kept in the pantry for grocery money (though he knew she was probably aware of it but remained silently grateful-- after all, she’d been feeding a small army on a limited income for years).

She and Arthur still flat-out refused any other monetary help.

He barely heard Charlie ask if everything was all right; he silently handed over the pages he’d just read as an explanation in order to riffle through the others.

They didn’t say what the amounts were spent on— there was just a bunch of dates and what was charged. It really didn’t explain much. He shook his head and shrugged, not really upset about the totals (since he had plenty of money and wouldn’t have to work a day in his life if he didn’t want to) but it was the principle of the thing.

It showed such selfishness!

If they were madly in love, he’d be thrilled to shower his wife with gifts and unlimited shopping to her heart’s content, but they were basically living separate lives and she was plowing through his resources with a careless disregard, not even bothering to compensate for it by making him feel happy and appreciated. (Not that she should have to earn the money like that, but something about it rubbed him the wrong way.)

Harry could hear Charlie spluttering, working himself up into a temper but he just left to take a shower.

While he was under the spray, he wondered what Hermione had come up with in her research and how easily he could extricate himself from Ginny’s clutches. When he was through, Charlie told him to go look over whatever the file folders on the coffee table had to say while he took a quick rinse, and then they would talk about what to do.

Harry simply nodded and did as he was told.

The Common Room was empty when he arrived, so he spread out the pages on the table. He smiled; Hermione still researched the same way he remembered from school— the original information source (in this case, NOT a textbook but official Divorce and Marriage Dissolution documents) and the lines of notes pertaining to each section on a separate page that synched up when placed side by side.

The Divorce looked very complex, with all sorts of legal mumbo-jumbo. The Dissolution, in comparison, was very simple— they both sign it and go their separate ways, no obligations to interact, no spousal support, it would be as if the union never existed; he liked that one.

Charlie emerged with the Gringott’s papers crushed in his fist and sank to the floor next to Harry and leaned in close to look over the pages with him; Harry became hyper-aware of all the points of contact where their bodies were touching.

He was feeling a little warm as he glanced side-ways and his eyes lingered on Charlie’s pink lips moving slightly as he read.   Ron and Hermione entered the portrait hole just minutes later with a tray of breakfast for the two of them and he reluctantly pulled away slightly, trying to focus on pouring a cup of tea.

“So, Harry,” Hermione started, “what do you think?” fixing her own drink and taking a sip.

He gave a half-laugh. “I think you were very thorough,” then added, “I like the Dissolution better. Much more neat and tidy. I’m not sure I understand the Divorce one completely.”

“Yes, well,” she began brusquely, “a Divorce is a lot more complex. It’s usually the route to take when there is combined property and finances. And kids, with custody and child support issues to handle—she’s not pregnant is she?” (Charlie snorted and Harry shook his head ‘no’) “That’s good.” (The dragon-handler snorted again and Hermione gave him an odd look before she continued) “It can be a messy process and it involves going to court, with solicitors hammering out a deal.”

Harry grimaced. He didn’t want to have such a public and lengthy process, every aspect scrutinized and picked apart by the press.

“But the good news is, since Ginny entered into the marriage with nothing, contributed nothing and there are no children, the split would be relatively simple. The worst of it is that it would be public record and the media would have a field day. All that would probably happen is that her solicitor (that was paid for with your money, mind you) would order you to pay spousal support.”

At Charlie’s growl, she added, “Also bad news, she could demand a trial and drag it all out—and while she would inevitably lose, the use of Veriterserum would air all your dirty laundry. But if you DO get into a legal battle, you could also counter-sue due to her infidelity, claiming she breached the terms of the contract and is therefore entitled to nothing. It all depends on how much you want to fight and how willing you are for things to potentially get really ugly— and costly. But it seems silly to put you through all that since she has nothing to begin with and couldn’t pay….”

“Well, she could always SELL some stuff!” Charlie burst out with.

At Hermione’s quizzical look and Ron’s clueless query, “What are you on about, Char?” The fuming redhead thrust the papers he’d been clutching in anger at the clever witch. Her eyes widened fraction by fraction until they were bulging and she was shaking in fury. Ron was watching with trepidation until she wordlessly passed him the first page; as his eyes roamed the text, his mouth dropped open.

“How much….” He trailed off at the shocked gasps and incensed squeals his girlfriend was stifling in her throat. She shoved the second page of summary in his chest as she tore through the rest of the account records; his face turned a deep shade of purple, all the way to the tips of his ears. Harry wondered if it was indignation on his behalf of Ginny’s reckless spending or finally seeing the total amounts Harry actually owned in his Vaults (it was probably a combination of the two).

“Harry!” Hermione screeched, “in four months she’s spent almost as much as a down payment on a cottage in Hogsmeade! What can she possibly be thinking! And all of this is inconsequential crap!”

Harry and Ron blinked in surprise, never having heard her use a dirty word, no matter how angry she got! (but given the circumstances, it was understandable) “I mean, why does she have to go to the beauty day spa every week? It really adds up! She dragged me to that frivolous, idiotic place before the World Cup and the fees for massages and facials were exorbitant— we could only afford the most basic manicure and pedicure package even though we’d saved up!— and even the smallest charge she has on here is how much it cost for us both— Oh!” She looked guiltily at Harry, “I’m sorry.”

“What’s that—?” Ron started, looking up from where he’d been glaring in consternation at the accounts over-view; then his eyes narrowed in comprehension. “You mean she’s treating her girlfriend too?”

“Well, Mum sure as hell wouldn’t condone dropping five Galleons a week, sometimes more, just to get her nails filed and face washed,” Charlie interjected heatedly.

Hermione shuffled the pages doing some quick mental math, “I knew she always dreamed of having designer clothes and shoes, but honestly!” She huffed in disgust, “Four hundred and sixty-six Galleons? That’s ridiculous! I mean, she gave Molly and Arthur some nice formal robes and shoes for Christmas, but that would only be a small part of this….”

Ron sucked in a gasp, focusing in on the last of the list.

“What the FUCK did she buy at Quality Quidditch?! There is NO WAY that the five pairs of racing gloves she bought us and her and her bitch cost this much!   I don’t care if they were solid gold and encrusted with jewels-- there’s no way! This is almost enough to buy three of the newest in the Meteor line! They run about five hundred Galleons apiece….”

Ron stared at Harry, then tried to soften the accusation (but looked doubtful) “Maybe she bought you two matching broomsticks and wanted to give it to you in person?”

Charlie scoffed and Harry shrugged, “Guess there’s only one way to find out.…”

Hermione was still muttering about ‘why on Earth would she be converting so much money to Muggle?’ when Charlie murmured in his ear, “Have you decided what you want to do? Are we going over to The Burrow?” (If the matters currently at hand hadn’t have been so serious, the warm breath on his neck would have caused an embarrassing situation in his pants-- as it was, his penis was twitching inappropriately.)

“Yeah,” Harry nodded resolutely.

He needed answers and was desperate for all this to be over. Hermione looked up from the financial statements questioningly. “I want to go with the Dissolution. Maybe if she didn’t have a lover on the side, or if she’d simply spent a large amount of money I might’ve felt more sympathy for wanting to leave her and tried to work something out in terms of financial support, but since she’s done both, I really don’t feel like it.”

Charlie squeezed his hand, letting him know he agreed with his reasoning and plan even though the witch in question was his sister; Ron clapped him on the shoulder, “We’re with you, Mate.”

Hermione beamed. “I had hoped you’d say that, especially after this,” she waved the Gringott’s parchments in the air, “I only really researched the aspects of a Wizarding Divorce since you are overly fair-minded, pathologically generous at times and might have not been willing to leave her high and dry. But just so you know…. You don’t owe her anything at this point.”

She gave him a big hug and gathered up the appropriate file and arranged the bank statements back in order. “Now all we have to do is get her to sign this....”

~O~

The house was quiet when they re-assembled and brushed the soot from their clothes onto the hearth rug. It was still early. They looked to each other, and then focused on Harry; he simply nodded at their expressions that asked if he was ready. As they silently ascended the staircase Molly burst out of the laundry room with an empty basket and startled at seeing the group.

“Oh! I didn’t know you’d be by!” As she caught up to them she commented, “Ah, Harry dear, so good to see you,” and engulfed him in a suffocating embrace. “Don’t you look dashing!” she remarked, holding his shoulders at arms’ length, giving his new, stylish ensemble an appreciative eye. “Gave us quite a turn, running off like that. I know Ginny can be a bit hot-headed at times but she’ll be thrilled to see you and make-up.”

The wizards and Hermione shuffled a little uneasy on their feet.

“Ginev’s still in her room; those two are lying-in later and later these days.” Shaking her head she continued up to her room, calling over her shoulder, “And the rest of you kids-- give them some privacy! You can all go down and eat what’s leftover and under stasis after mine and Arthur’s meal, I’ll just whip up more breakfast later.”

Harry anxiously glanced at his best friends; the plan had been for them to be out of sight but listening in with Extendable Ears in case he needed back-up. He didn’t think he could successfully withstand Ginny’s way of manipulating the situation without knowing their support was there, whether or not he actually needed them to intervene. The thought that they were there gave him courage and comfort.

“We’re not going anywhere,” Charlie whispered; “Right, Mate. Wouldn’t be anywhere else,” Ron added in hushed tone as they paused on the landing outside Ginny’s room. Harry gave them a look of gratitude and relief— then looked worried.

Hermione was the only one to interpret the expression correctly: “Don’t worry about us judging you by anything she says, we’ve already heard her worst and it said nothing bad about you and everything rotten in her character. Besides,” she wore an impish grin, “it’ll only give us more ammunition against her.”

Heartened, Harry blew out a deep breath and rapped on the door.

“Give us a minute, Mum!” Ginny’s muffled and sleep-drugged voice called out. “We just need to get dressed and then we’ll be right down!” Ron gave an antagonistic-brotherly smirk and turned the knob, pulling Harry through the threshold with him. “Get out! Get out!” his sister screamed, throwing a pillow at them while the two naked girls within scrambled on the bed to cover up with sheets and previously-shed pajamas.

Ron sniggered and turned away shutting the door so they could get some clothes on-- only to look sheepish and chagrined at the scowl on his girlfriend’s face. He shrugged in a half-assed apology, murmuring “They deserved it….” and then brightened, “Hey, remember that time in sixth year I made that cow Demelza cry during Quidditch?” Harry gave a little smile (and Hermione was having a really hard time suppressing hers at their antics— and they both knew it).

The door opened and Demelza squealed in fright, seeing the imposing gathering in the hall and fled in abject terror up to some place in the upper regions of the house where she could hide. Harry rolled his eyes and entered the lioness’ den.

His eyes briefly wandered over the perfectly-made twin bed along the wall opposite of Ginny’s disheveled one (obviously it was only there for appearances-sake…. And probably transfigured into something innocuous every other time he set foot in this room since Halloween). She stood in her dressing-gown with an undercurrent of tension but put on an air of this being a casual visit, as if nothing negative had transpired between them.

“Ah, you’re back. Done with your little tantrum, I see,” she started breezily, and then laughed as she looked him up and down. “What are you wearing? You look like you’re trying to be a little mini-Charlie, what with your hair grown out and those boots!”

Harry blanched, bracing himself against her opening statements.

Maybe he was subconsciously copying the cool dragon-handler? (He’d discovered his hair was more manageable, more weighted down the longer it got; it was still messy, but instead of sprigging up all over the place, it was what Charlie called a ‘just-shagged’ look.) He was wearing the new footwear the man had gotten him for Christmas and the button-down shirt Charlie had given him for his birthday (that was much in the same style that he’d gotten the redhead for the holiday—and the redhead was wearing today-- except in a deep, shimmering purple).

She’d probably have a lot to tease them with when she saw them side by side today….

“Maybe I just like his look….” Harry murmured. “The boots were a gift from him. I think they’re cool. Thank you for the gloves by the way, we all enjoyed them.” (He couldn’t resist a passive-aggressive dig that her brother had seen fit to get him a nice, personalized gift while she had given her husband and her brothers the same exact thing.)

“And thank you for the necklace,” she responded formally— she touched her neck but he noticed she was not wearing the thin gold chain with an amber pendant on it (that he’d thought would look nice with the color of her hair and eyes)— she was wearing some length of thicker, silver, Celtic-knot links that disappeared under the lapel of her robe.

She shrugged, “Ok, so, now that you’re back, you can try on your formal robes for tomorrow night. We can get them tailored to perfection at Clark’s this afternoon. There’s no way they won’t take us on such short notice, I’m one of their favourite customers!” she proclaimed proudly. “Then, we’ll have to tame that wild mop you call hair so we’ll go to that barber next to—“

“How do you know about all these businesses Ginny?” He interrupted-- couldn’t help but feign innocence at this point, wondering how much she would divulge about her shopping habits.

“Everyone knows the places to go in Diagon, Harry,” she sighed condescendingly. “Well, maybe you wouldn’t— keeping all holed-up in that moldering ruin of a Castle, trying to recapture the memories of your youth! C’mon— there is so much more to do out in the world!”

Harry sighed, “Maybe so, but I have no intention of getting my hair cut…. Or putting on overly fussy clothes, for that matter!” He was starting to get irked with her controlling attitude and her dismissiveness over the noble work he had been putting in on rebuilding the school for future generations (after all, he was a huge reason that it had been as damaged as it had!).

Ginny just looked at him as though he were hopelessly thick. “Um, the Ministry Ball for New Year’s Eve tomorrow? I R.S.V.P.’d weeks ago! They are thrilled that you are finally going to attend a festive event! They even invited for you to do the official count-down to midnight!”

He hadn’t even spoken to her about much more than the weather in months! Why was she was acting as if they’d had this whole discussion and he’d agreed to it? (Which he never would in a million years) “I’m NOT going, Ginny.”

“But it’s such an honor! Dems and I have been looking forward to it forever and had special formal robes made! How is it going to look to everyone when you don’t come with us?”

“I don’t want to go,” Harry started in a low, ominous voice. “And what makes you think I would want to go out in public with my wife and her lover?”

“Oh PLEASE!” she rolled her eyes, “I explained about that on Christmas Eve! Are you seriously that slow? She. Is. My. Best. Friend!” (A muffled thud was heard from the hallway)

“You admitted to having sex with her since Halloween! How does that not make her your mistress?”

Ginny snorted, “Women don’t have ‘mistresses’…. You have a lot to learn. Anyway, you should really give her a chance. You guys would hit it off, you’re so much alike! She’s willing to forgive you for how rudely you treated her if you apologize.”

Harry was speechless. (A brief kerfuffle broke out in the corridor, the door-knob rattled and then all fell silent)

Really?   Seriously?! In what universe did it make sense that he should have to say ‘sorry’ to the woman he’d just found out had an on-going, live-in sexual relationship with his wife? He hadn’t even gone off on her-- he’d just growled ‘You!’ and stormed out! Was Ginny actually suggesting that they should all be in a relationship together?

Harry’s mind was boggled.

Ginny didn’t seem to notice anything was amiss and was still speaking. “—Well, she was a little miffed at me, at first, too. She thought you knew about us—“

“Why did she think that, Ginny?” Harry cut her off, asking through clenched teeth.

The ginger witch actually had the decency to look a little sheepish, “I may have implied that you were totally fine with how things were. I mean, that’s what I thought at the time!” she defended. “You never said anything about finding us together on Halloween so I figured you didn’t mind. And then all of a sudden you decide to throw a fit on Christmas Eve--”

“I’d just learned you’d been living with her, not just having a one-off!” Harry exclaimed. “I had wanted to keep the peace and not let your parents down. And yeah, maybe I should have said something, but I kept waiting for you to explain yourself and you never did. How was I supposed to bring it up when you acted as if nothing had happened?”

Ginny regarded him with an expression that she thought he might be mentally deficient. “Why should I have said anything? You basically gave us your blessing by not mentioning it,” she stated as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

(There was another series of muffled thumps, though louder this time, coming from behind the closed door) And now Ginny DID notice. “Mum’s like a fucking elephant going up and down the stairs.”

“Anyway,” she continued on, “of course Demi forgave me once I’d explained you’d just been surprised to see her.” Harry could feel his teeth start to grind. “And she was especially happy with the main gift we got her.”

“’We?’” he questioned weakly, feeling rather sickened that his wife had given her lover the same gloves as him AND another, more significant present— that he paid for (not to mention the custom-made clothes)! (Over the blood rushing in his ears, he vaguely heard Ginny huffing impatiently ‘I told you I would take care of the holiday shopping! Honestly….’ and saw her shaking her head at his apparent stupidity.)

He had a feeling he knew what it was she’d bought her girlfriend.

He wasn’t wrong.

“Our new Meteor 9’s are amazing!” She was crowing with eyes alight. “We have to have them for the Harpies’ try-outs next month, of course. But we still have to break them in, get used to the superior and super-sensitive handling….” Harry’s brain was blown; even with Ron’s suggestion earlier that the bill from the Quidditch store was large enough to get two or more top-of-the-line brooms, he hadn’t wanted to believe she would go that far.

He inquired at how much they cost (trying to keep a casual tone), and she answered so unashamedly, ‘Five-hundred apiece, but worth every knut!’  He felt nauseous. He did some mental tabulations and then asked, “What was the other four hundred and seventy-five Galleons spent on?”

She blinked and then her eyes narrowed into slits. “How do you know that? Are you checking up on me? Whatever! I also bought gifts for you, Charlie and Ron there, if you recall!”

“I hardly think that five pairs of gloves cost almost as much as a new broom!” His patience was wearing thin.

She seemed to puff up with her defensiveness and spat accusingly, “If you must know, we also needed a league-standard set of balls to practice with! You took the Firebolt and Snitch with you and we couldn’t very well use the crap we have here, to show up at a professional audition on moth-eaten, secondhand Comet 260’s! We need to get a feel for the weight and accuracy of the official Quaffles, so what else were we to do?”

Harry felt like he’d been punched in the gut.

He couldn’t handle her acting like she should equally own those two particular gifts with him!

He didn’t have very many things to call his own—and would freely share what other things he had-- but he was incredibly possessive both of those magical objects and held them close to his heart. They were precious to him, had sentimental history and….

Damnit! They were HIS!

They were both startled when the door suddenly burst open and Molly, in all her pre-War power and presence, stood glowering spectacularly and bellowed, “GINEVRA VIVIENNE WEASLEY!!”

~O~

A/N: This scene continues on for quite a bit more, (in my head at least), but thought it would be a nice treat to all you loyal readers to get a little taste of the next bit of the story (otherwise it would take WAY

too long, work is getting crazy!)…. Molly is in for a rude awakening concerning her daughter!

I love Harry and his friends….

(And ha-ha, I looked up motorcycle prices to come up with the ‘guess-timate’ for a nice model of broom!”)
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WONKY CROSS