The Great Recession (Ch. 9)

( Every character in this story is a legal adult over the age of 18 )

The Great Recession

Chapter 9

Ginny Weasley could hear Ron snoring through the paper-thin wall, even over the howling wind and the clatter of the pipes. She was curled up under a patchwork blanket in their freezing flat, her elbows propped on the windowsill, and her chin resting in her palms. The glass was so cold it stung her skin, but she didn’t care. She wanted to feel something other than complete emptiness. She wouldn’t recommend abject poverty to anyone. 

Below, Knockturn Alley was deserted. Not even the drunks braved it out there this time of night, and the battered sign for the apothecary below their flat rocked violently with every gust of wind. The window rattled in its rotting frame, and Ginny shivered. She’d given up on the radiator weeks ago. It sputtered like a dying animal and finally died for good last month. Now, the only thing she had to warm herself was a glass jar with a Bluebell Flame in it. 

Her breath fogged the glass. She drew a circle in the condensation, then wiped it away and started again. This time she drew a drumstick. She was desperate for some food. It was the only thing in her life that felt consistent.

She’d spent the last of her money earlier that day on some thin, watery soup that did nothing to sate her hunger. If she stole from Ron’s stash, she could maybe afford beans and a scrap of bread, but Ron guarded his money with paranoid devotion. Most days, Ginny wondered if he spent it on food or just drank it away, but it didn’t matter. Either way, he wasn’t sharing.

She thought about writing her mum again. She always talked herself out of it. Her parents were somewhere in Romania, or maybe Germany now, depending on which piece of gossip you believed. They hadn’t sent word in months. They probably didn’t even know about the state she was living in. Hell, at this point, Ginny didn’t think they even cared. They were too busy making sure they had food to eat. She knew her mum would just ask questions she didn’t want to answer, and of course, offer no real solutions. She would probably lay out a plan that wasn’t based in reality. Ginny hated the way her mum made everything sound so easy and dignified. There was nothing dignified about pissing in a cracked toilet and washing your tattered panties in cold water.

She could hear Ron stirring in the other room. He would wake soon, and the flat would fill with the smell of an unwashed body and the sound of his endless bitching. Sometimes Ginny wondered if she would snap and throw him out the window, just to hear him scream. She fantasized about it a lot.

Instead, she stared at her own reflection. She looked too thin, in her opinion, and her hair had lost the bounce and luster it used to have. That probably had something to do with using soap instead of shampoo to wash it. Her eyes looked hollow and dull. She tried to smile at herself, but it was a losing battle.

She traced a finger over the scar on her left hand. It was from the last real fight she’d had with Ron, when she’d thrown a mug at his head, and he’d retaliated by kicking the door shut on her hand. He claimed it was an accident, but she wasn’t so sure. That was weeks ago, but the memory still made her want to laugh and cry at the same time. She and Ron used to be close. Now it was just the two of them, and all they did was hate each other.

She heard him stumble into the kitchen, cursing under his breath. She turned from the window, steeled herself, and walked over to face him. Ron was in the process of scratching his balls and ass at the same time. He had bags under his eyes, a swollen nose, and his shirt was stained yellow at the pits. He glared at her through his sleepy eyes.

“Oi,” he grunted. “Did you piss away all the money again?”

Ginny shook her head. “There’s no money left to piss away.”

He sneered at her, and Ginny had never wanted to punch him more than she did in that moment. “Figure it out. I’m not eating porridge for the rest of my life.”

She considered stabbing him with the rusty fork on the table. Instead, she smiled sweetly. “Maybe you could get a job, Ronald.”

He snorted and snatched a bottle of home-made rotgut from the counter. He shook it and found it empty. “Or maybe you could pull your tits out for that Playwiz rag and actually pay some rent,” he snidely said as he threw the empty bottle into the corner of the room. 

The words were meant to be harsh, but Ginny didn’t flinch. She’d already thought about it … more than once. She hadn’t spoken to Harry since going to the mansion to see him, and even then, it was awkward and cold. He looked so different now. He was taller, stronger, and more handsome, and the scar on his forehead was almost invisible unless you were looking for it. He had the kind of confidence that used to make Ginny weak at the knees. Now it just made her angry that she had missed out. 

She tried not to think about the girls in the magazine. They were everywhere. They were on the wireless, in shop windows, and even tacked up in the stinky pub down the street. Sometimes, Ginny would catch herself staring at their pictures and feeling a weird mix of jealousy and shame. They looked nothing like her. Their skin and hair were perfect, their teeth gleamed, and they always looked like they were having more fun than anyone else in the world. She wasn’t sure if she hated them or wanted to be them. “You know what … Maybe I will,” Ginny shot back with a glare of her own. 

Ron snorted and pulled on his coat. “Do what you want … I don’t give a shit. Just don’t come running to me when you’re out on your ass.”

She turned and left him there. The bedroom was colder than before. She sat on the edge of the bed, thinking, while her stomach knotted with dread and hunger. She had barely eaten in two days. The last thing she’d had was a half-stale roll and a handful of peanuts she’d nicked from the corner shop.

She hated how easy it was to imagine herself in one of those pictures, posing for the camera with her hair washed and styled, and her skin oiled to perfection. She wondered what it would be like to be the one everyone wanted instead of the one everyone had forgotten about. She closed her eyes and pictured herself striding through the Playwiz Mansion, her head held high, or walking down the street with every guy staring at her with open hunger. Then she imagined the jealous looks she would receive from the women. It almost made her giddy. She imagined Harry looking at her like he used to, with those desperate, lustful eyes. The thought made her shudder. She opened her eyes. The hunger was worse now, and not just in her stomach.

She stood up, pulled on the least wrinkled sweater she could find, and ran her fingers through her hair. She didn’t look at the mirror. She didn’t want to see what she looked like right now. She walked to the front door, paused, and looked back at Ron. He was slumped over the table, his head in his hands, muttering to himself. Ginny stared at him for a moment, trying to remember exactly when his life had gone to shit. She couldn’t. Maybe it had always been like this.

She shut the door behind her, walked down the dark stairs, and out into the freezing wind. She didn’t look back. She apparated straight to the Playwiz Mansion, and when she reached the gate, she didn’t hesitate. She rang the bell with her head held high and waited for Harry to answer.

The Great Recession

Harry sat hunched at his desk, his eyes narrowed in the soft light of his reading lamp. He’d spent the last half an hour plowing through Hermione’s latest report. It was thicker than Hogwarts: A History, for heaven’s sake. He didn’t mind her thoroughness, but if he saw the phrase “optimized workflow” one more time, he’d set her next report on fire before reading it.

He set the report aside and leaned back in his chair, rubbing his eyes. The Mansion was quiet. It was dead early, and most of the girls had gone to Paris for the weekend. Outside, the grounds and trees gleamed with frost. He had to admit that it looked quite pretty. He heard a distant squeal and thought it was probably Susan and Hermione sparring over breakfast. Hermione liked to get an early start on her work, and Susan had her own job to go to.

A sudden pop disturbed the quiet. Twiggy, his personal house elf, appeared in the corner of the room, her ears perked and eyes too large for her skull. “Master Harry,” Twiggy squeaked. “There is a girl at the gate. Miss Ginny Weasley. She looks most unhappy.”

He blinked in surprise. “Did she say what she wants?”

Twiggy nodded frantically. “She says she must speak with you, Master, immediately. She would not take no for an answer.”

Harry rolled his eyes. He’d expected Ginny would show up again eventually, but he thought it would take her longer. She was quite stubborn, after all. He nodded at Twiggy and said, “Bring her in.”

Twiggy disappeared, only to return a moment later with a faint pop. Ginny appeared in the center of the office, looking stunned and half-frozen, her cheeks bright red. She wore a sweater so oversized that it might have been Ron’s, and her jeans had worn through at the knees. Her hair had seen better days.

Twiggy vanished, and Ginny’s eyes darted around the room, then settled on Harry. She didn’t move. Harry stood and folded his arms. “Good morning, Ginny,” he said, his voice calm but amused. “You look as smashing as ever.”

Her lips pressed into a hard line. “Sorry to barge in,” she said, her eyes flicking to the floor.

Harry waved a hand. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’ll always make time for you.” He motioned her to the sofa by the fire. “Take a seat.”

She hesitated, then shuffled across the carpet and perched on the edge of the sofa. Her stomach growled loudly, and Harry saw the way her whole body clenched at the sound. He almost chuckled, but didn’t. He settled in beside her. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

She stared at the fire, not meeting his eyes. “I thought about what we talked about last time I was here.” When Harry didn’t say anything, Ginny continued. “I want to accept the offer.”

He looked at her, confused. “What offer was that, again?”

A flash of anger lit up her face, but it vanished just as quickly. “The job,” she said, her voice flat. “The modeling job?” she reminded him. 

Harry raised an eyebrow. He had just thrown that out to take a jab at her. He didn’t expect her to actually consider it. “Oh, that job. You want to be a Playwiz model?”

She shrugged. “It’s better than what I’m doing now … which is absolutely nothing.”

Harry sighed and nodded. “I suppose it is.” He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “Just so we’re clear, it’s not charity. You’ll get a lot, but you’ll be expected to work. The shoots are tough, and so are the deadlines. If you can’t handle it, there’s the door. Understood?”

Ginny’s eyes met his, and her gaze was fierce and sharp. “I can handle it,” she said with absolute certainty. 

“Good,” Harry said. He steepled his fingers, sizing her up. “You’ll be living here, of course.”

She let out a shaky breath. “Really?”

He nodded. “You’ll have a room, meals, and whatever else you need.” He paused. “We take care of our people here, Ginny.”

She nodded, and Harry caught the faintest tremor in her hands. Ginny glanced at the fireplace, then at the neatly stacked folders on the desk. “When do I start?” she asked.

“Right now, if you want,” Harry said. “Twiggy will get you settled.” He called out, “Twiggy!”

The house elf appeared in front of him, her eyes bright. “Master?”

“Please set up a room for Miss Weasley. Get her something to eat, and some new clothes.”

Twiggy curtsied. “Right away, Master Harry. Miss, if you please?”

Ginny stood, looking lost for a moment. She turned to Harry. “Thank you.” Her voice was full of relief. 

He smiled, and this time, it was soft and real. “You’re welcome, Ginny.”

Her stomach growled so loud that even Twiggy winced. Ginny’s face went bright red, and she clamped a hand over her middle. She let the house elf lead her out, and as the door swung closed behind them, Harry caught one last glimpse of her. Her shoulders were squared, and her head was held high, even as hunger damn near overcame her.

He leaned back and stared at the fire. The morning had turned out much differently than he had expected. He turned back to the stack of reports on his desk and groaned. Knowing Hermione, the stack would grow twice as tall if he didn’t take care of it right now. With a sigh, he went back to his desk and got to work. 

The Great Recession

Harry set the last parchment down, capped his ink bottle, and let out a long, slow breath. Through the window, he could see the early-morning sun hovering above the iced-over lawn. His eyes and wrist ached from so much damn paperwork. It was the bane of his existence.

He rubbed his eyes and considered getting another espresso. He’d earned it. He was just about to call Twiggy when he heard a soft, hesitant knock at the door. It wasn’t the brisk but aggressive knock of Hermione, and Susan would just barge in.

Harry opened the door and found Ginny standing in the corridor, barefoot and clutching the edges of a thick white bathrobe. Her face was scrubbed clean. Her hair fell in full, glossy waves over her shoulders. She looked at him, and her blue eyes sparkled.

“Can I come in?” she asked politely.

“Sure,” Harry said, and stood aside.

She stepped into the office, shivering a little in the draft. “Sorry,” she said. “I’ve been up all night, but I didn’t want to sleep yet.”

Harry shrugged. “You’re still getting used to a new place.”

He took in her appearance. The robe was knotted tight at her waist, and it barely reached mid-thigh. Her calves were bare and smooth, and he caught the faint scent of the shampoo she’d just used. She glanced around, noticed the fire, and gravitated toward it. He let her stand there, soaking up the warmth. For a moment, he just watched her. He’d always found Ginny to be quite attractive. 

“Did you eat?” he asked her as he walked up to the tea cart. 

She nodded her head. “Twiggy brought up a breakfast tray, but I couldn’t finish it. My stomach …” She made a face, then smiled. “It’s still getting used to real food, I think.”

He poured two cups and handed her one. She took it with both hands and sipped, her eyes on him the whole time. Harry sat on the sofa in front of the fireplace. Ginny hesitated, then joined him, curling her feet under her and tugging the robe tighter. He didn’t press her. He just sat in silence, the way he used to with Hermione, back when words were less necessary.

She sipped her tea, then set it on the table. “Thank you,” she said quietly. “For today. For all of it.”

Harry shrugged and sipped his tea. “You’re not the first person to end up at my doorstep. You’re not even the first Weasley,” he said, thinking of both Hermione and Fleur. 

She gave a short laugh, then turned so her knees were pressed against his thigh. She touched his arm, testing his boundaries. “Still. Thank you.” She bit her lip. “I thought you hated me.”

He looked at her. “I never hated you. You just seriously irritated me.”

Ginny nodded, and for a moment, they just sat, listening to the crackle of the fire.

“Can I do something for you?” she asked. She blushed, then looked up at him through her lashes. “Something to say thanks, or to … to show I’m really grateful.”

He grinned and put down his cup. “What did you have in mind?”

She didn’t answer. Instead, she put her hand on his chest and leaned forward. Her kiss was soft, and her lips were warm and insistent. She let the kiss linger, then pulled back, her breath shallow and her cheeks flushed pink.

“I want to show you,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I really do.”

“Then do it,” Harry told her.

She straddled his lap, and the robe fell open at the knees. Harry’s hands went to her hips, and he felt the heat of her body under the plush cotton. Ginny grabbed the belt of her robe and yanked it free. She shrugged off the robe, then let it slide down her shoulders to the small of her back. Underneath, she wore a black silk teddy that accentuated her curves. The fabric clung to her tits, barely containing them. The neckline plunged low, and her nipples stood stiff against the sheer silk.

She let him look. He could tell that she liked being looked at. She shifted her weight, grinding down onto his thigh so the teddy rode up over her hips. Harry saw the smooth, hairless mound between her legs. The hem of the teddy was so short that it left her slit in full view. He could see her pink, plump pussy lips already glistening with arousal.

“Do you like it?” Ginny asked, her voice trembling.

“It looks good on you. Black is definitely your color,” he said, and let his hands slide up from her hips to her waist. They then moved higher, cupping her tits through the silk. They were perfect and perky, with just enough weight to fill his hands. He squeezed, kneaded, and let his thumbs brush her stiff nipples. She shuddered and closed her eyes, arching into his touch.

She leaned in and kissed him harder this time. Harry kissed her back, his hands roaming over her sides, up her back, and down to her thighs. She broke the kiss, then moved lower, pressing her mouth to his jaw, his neck, and then his upper chest. Her hair tickled his skin. She inhaled his scent and then nipped at his neck with her teeth.

“Can I suck your cock?” she whispered so quietly that he almost missed it. He nodded.

Ginny slid off his lap and dropped to her knees on the rug. She reached up, tugged the waistband of his pajamas down, and let his cock spring free. It was already at half-mast and growing by the second. She wrapped one hand around the shaft and squeezed. Ginny then pumped slowly, watching it grow. She ran her tongue across the head, tasting the first drop of precum before licking him from base to tip, her eyes never leaving his.

She wrapped her lips around the head and sucked, swirling her tongue, hollowing her cheeks. Her hand pumped the shaft as she worked her mouth down, taking more of him with each bob of her head. The sensation was electric—her tongue soft, her lips snug, her mouth wet and hot. She moved faster, letting him slip in and out, then deep-throating him until her nose brushed his belly.

Harry groaned. He put his hand in her hair, not pushing, just holding her there. Ginny moaned around his cock, the vibration sending jolts up his spine. She pulled off, gasping, saliva stringing from her lips to the tip. She stroked him with both hands, then licked the shaft, wetting it even more. She kissed his balls, sucked them gently, then went back to his cock, swallowing him down again.

He looked down. The silk teddy was bunched at her waist, showing off her ass. Her thighs were spread wide, and the lips of her pussy were visible, puffy and glistening. She was dripping onto the rug, and every time she moved, her arousal left a shiny trail on the inside of her thighs.

Ginny sucked him faster, sloppier, until her face was slick with spit and precum. She jerked him with one hand and cupped his balls with the other. She looked up, eyes wide and pleading.

“Cum in my mouth,” she begged. “I want to taste you.”

Harry almost did, but he pulled her up by the arms and dragged her onto his lap again. She squeaked and giggled when his cock slapped up against her thigh.

“Not yet,” he said. “Take this off first.”

She smiled and pulled the teddy over her head. Her tits bounced free, and her nipples were stiff and crinkled. She tossed the silk onto the sofa and straddled him, fully naked. Harry ran his hands over her silky smooth body. They moved up her belly and onto her breasts. They then went down again to her hips and ass. She was incredibly smooth. Every inch of her skin was soft and hairless.

He reached between her legs and slid a finger up her slit. Ginny moaned and rocked her hips forward, grinding her pussy onto his palm. He parted her lips, felt the wet heat inside her, and pressed his thumb against her clit. She trembled and grabbed his shoulders for support.

“You’re soaking wet,” he said as she ground against his fingers.

She blushed, but didn’t look away. “And whose fault is that?” Harry chuckled in response. 

He circled her clit with his thumb while his fingers teased her entrance. Ginny’s breathing quickened, and she leaned back, bracing herself on his knees, and let her legs fall open. Harry watched her tits bounce with every ragged breath. He kept rubbing her, and soon she was panting and jerking her hips with every touch.

“Oh, I’m gonna … EEP!” she squealed, and her whole body tensed up. She came with a stifled scream, her pussy squirting a hot gush over his hand. Her legs shook, and she collapsed against his chest, shaking. Harry kissed her temple and then her lips. Ginny moaned as he sucked on her tongue.

“Again?” he asked. She nodded, her eyes hooded with lust.

Harry lifted her by the hips and lined her up with his cock. She hovered over him and reached down. She grabbed his shaft and positioned it at her entrance. She sank down quickly, desperate for more pleasure. Ginny moaned as the shaft stretched her open. Her pussy was tight, hot, and so wet it dripped onto his balls. She gasped as he filled her. She kept sliding down until her ass rested on his balls, and his cock was buried to the hilt.

She rolled her hips and ground against him. Her tight pussy massaged his cock with every movement. Harry gripped her waist and let her set the rhythm. She rode him with wild abandon, bouncing up and down on his cock. Her tits jiggled, her hair flew around her face, and her pussy gripped him so tight he almost blew his load. Every time she dropped down, he felt her pussy clench and spasm around him.

Ginny fucked herself hard and fast. Her eyes were locked on his, and her mouth was open and panting. She was wild, unrestrained, and utterly focused on her own pleasure. Harry loved it. He cupped her ass and helped her bounce, driving his cock deeper with every thrust.

She came again, screaming his name. Her pussy squeezed him so hard he thought he might cum, too, but he held back. Ginny shuddered and went limp, melting against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her and held her close, letting her recover. She pressed her face to his neck and giggled.

“Don’t you ever get tired?” she blissfully asked.

He shook his head. “Never.”

She laughed and sat up, his cock still buried inside her. She rocked her hips slowly, loving the way his head rubbed against her g-spot. “I want you to cum in me,” she said, her voice hungry and desperate. “I want to feel you.”

He didn’t need any more encouragement than that. He started fucking her hard and deep, slamming up into her so her whole body shook. She clawed at his shoulders while her pussy milked his cock with every thrust. Harry’s fingers forced her cheeks open, and Ginny squealed when a rush of cool air tickled her asshole. 

“Fuck, Ginny,” he groaned. “You’re dripping all over me.”

She whimpered and then squealed again as another orgasm hit. Her pussy squirted, spraying a mess over his cock and balls. The sight of her spasming body and bouncing tits pushed him over the edge. He thrust into her one last time and came, filling her pussy with a hot flood of cum. She collapsed onto him, shaking, her pussy still spasming around his cock. It clamped down tight and wouldn’t let go. 

Ginny nuzzled his chest and peppered it with soft kisses. He caressed her naked back and ran his fingers down her spine. After a while, she looked up at him and smiled. “You obviously put all those new girl products to good use,” he teased, running his hand over her perfectly smooth mound. Ginny shuddered when his fingers brushed against her swollen clit. 

She blushed. “I wanted to look good for you.”

“You do,” he said, softly teasing her clit. 

She beamed and curled up against him, her head on his shoulder and her pussy still firmly wrapped around his shaft. For the first time since losing everything, Ginny wasn’t afraid of tomorrow. In fact, she was actually looking forward to it.