The Great Recession (Ch. 5)

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

The Great Recession

Chapter 5

Fleur waited in the cold, her arms clamped around her middle while rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet. Her shoes were thin, the soles worn slick by a year of poverty, and every time she shifted, she felt the dirt through the leather. Her breath left pale clouds in the morning air, and her lips stung from the cold. She hated to wait out in the cold, but she couldn’t bear to wait inside, not with the smell of wet, rotting wood and her mother’s anxiety pressing at her from across the one-room shack. So she stood on the front step, or what was left of it, and stared down the rutted alley until her eyes watered. 

When Harry finally appeared, he strode toward her with that unmistakable, cocky walk. His shoulders were squared, his hands were in his pockets, and his head was cocked as if in defiance of the world. Fleur’s entire body tensed from the stress. He was not in a rush. He never seemed to be. He walked like he owned the pavement, the block, and the entire city. When he smiled at her, Fleur felt it like a physical blow to the chest.

“Fleur,” he said, his voice low and smooth.

She opened her mouth to respond, but instead she let out a little hiccup of relief and staggered toward him. Harry met her halfway. His arms were open and strong, and she folded herself into him, pressing her cheek to the rough wool of his coat. He didn’t let go, and Fleur was extremely grateful. She breathed him in and melted against his body.

“You look like shit,” Harry said teasingly into her hair, but he was smiling.

Fleur felt a laugh burst out of her, wild and sharp. “You do not look so good yourself, Monsieur Potter,” she teased him back.

He chuckled, and his hands moved up and down her back. The gesture sent a wave of heat through her. He gripped her by the upper arms and eased her back so he could look at her face. His eyes flicked over her cheeks, eyes, lips, then down to her collarbone and chest. He didn’t hide the way he was staring at her breasts. She could feel her nipples harden instantly, visible through the threadbare fabric of her blouse.

“Seriously, are you eating at all?” Harry asked, concern lurking behind the teasing.

“I am eating,” Fleur said, even though it was a lie.

Harry stared into her face for a long moment, then looked up at the shack. “Hermione tells me you want the same deal.” She nodded silently, refusing to look away from his eyes. “Is this true?” Harry pressed.

Fleur nodded again. Her mouth was too dry to speak. Harry smiled and nodded. “Good.” He leaned in closer, and his lips brushed her ear. “All you have to do is ask.”

She shivered, more from the nearness than the cold. “Can my sister and my mother come, too?” she whispered. “We will share a room.”

He laughed at that, the sound rumbling in his chest. “Don’t be silly. There’s enough space for all of you. You’ll each get your own room.”

Fleur couldn’t believe it. She felt her knees buckle, and she grabbed his sleeve for support. A tightness built in her chest, threatening to burst. Harry must have noticed, because he pulled her in again and held her close.

“Thank you,” she whispered, barely audible.

He rubbed her back, his palm wide and warm, and the tension broke. Fleur started to sniffle, but she tried to hide it. Harry just held her until she calmed down. She stepped back, wiped her nose, and tried to compose herself. Harry smiled with genuine warmth.

Fleur stood on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. Her soft lips lingered, then she let herself slide sideways and kissed his other cheek. It was slower and closer to the corner of his mouth. She felt his breath catch. Her own pulse hammered. When she finally let her lips brush the edge of his, Harry turned his head and caught her mouth in a real kiss. He didn’t hesitate. His tongue was in her mouth, claiming it, and his hands slid down to her hips, pulling her in tight. Fleur moaned, the sound muffled by his lips. She melted against him, her pussy flooding with wetness that soaked through her panties in seconds.

He broke the kiss, breathless. “You’re eager,” he said, the hunger in his eyes as clear as day.

“Is that a problem?” she asked, her husky voice barely above a whisper.

He shook his head. “Not at all.” He kissed her again, and she clung to him with both hands.

When he finally pulled away, Fleur was dizzy. She touched her lips, then smiled up at him. “Should I pack?”

“Yes,” Harry said, running his hand up the inside of her arm. “Show me inside first?”

She nodded and led him into the shack. The air inside was thick with the scent of boiled potatoes, mildew, and stress. The space was tiny, and the floor was cluttered with Gabby’s junk and a pile of laundry that had not seen water in weeks. Apolline was hunched over a chipped mug at the table, her long hair falling over her delicate shoulders. Gabrielle perched on the edge of the table, her legs swinging, and her eyes bright and unblinking.

As soon as Harry stepped in, Gabby let out a squeal. “ ‘arry!” She launched herself at him, arms outstretched.

He caught her with ease, spinning her around. “You’ve gotten taller,” Harry said, inspecting her as if she were a puzzle.

Gabby smiled widely, her teeth white against her pale lips. “You missed my birthday, you know.”

Harry chuckled and shook his head. “I’m a terrible friend. How old are you now?”

Gabrielle drew herself up, proud and sultry. “Eighteen,” she said, and winked at him. Fleur rolled her eyes but felt her own mouth curve in a smile.

Apolline stood and glided over, every movement slow and calculated. She was still devastatingly beautiful, but she looked tired and worn out. Her face was a little thin, but her eyes were as sharp and blue as ever. She extended her hand, fingers long and graceful.

“Monsieur Potter,” she said, her voice as smooth as velvet. “It’s been too long.”

Harry took her hand, bowed, and kissed the back of it. “A pleasure, Madame Delacour.”

Apolline held his hand a beat longer than necessary, then let go, her eyes flicking down to his body and back up again. “Fleur tells me there might be a room for ‘er at your lovely ‘ome.”

“For all three of you,” Harry replied. “If you want.”

She smiled, soft but hungry. “We would love that.”

Harry turned back to Fleur. “Pack whatever you want to keep. We’ll leave in an hour.”

Gabrielle let out another squeal and danced in a circle, her hair whipping around her face. Apolline’s face softened, years of fear and hunger falling away in a single breath. Fleur felt lighter than air. Harry leaned in to her, lips brushing her ear. “See you in an hour,” he murmured and left with a wink.

The door closed, and Fleur sagged against the wall, legs shaking. Gabby was already in the bedroom, throwing books and bras into a battered trunk. Apolline was still at the table, tracing the rim of her mug with one elegant finger. Fleur went to the window and watched Harry’s retreating figure. Her eyes lingered on the broadness of his shoulders and the confidence in his stride. She felt herself grow wet again, just from looking at him.

She turned back to her mother. “You like him,” Fleur said, trying to make it sound casual. Fleur knew her mother was the type who couldn’t be happy without a man in her life. Seeing the look she gave him, Fleur wondered how long it would take for her to offer herself to him. 

Apolline didn’t look up. “He is strong and confident,” she replied, her voice soft.

“And young,” Fleur teased.

Apolline smiled, a sly curl of the lip. “That certainly doesn’t hurt.”

Fleur laughed, really laughed, and the sound filled the little shack. For the first time in a long while, Fleur felt alive. She thought about Harry, his hands and mouth, the feel of his tongue in her mouth, and her skin prickled with heat. She wondered what it would feel like to have him inside her, to have him fill her completely. Gabrielle poked her head out of her room. “Do you think he’ll let me have a room with a balcony?” she asked, eyes bright and eager.

Fleur rolled her eyes. “Be happy with whatever he gives you. It will most certainly be better than this place.”

Gabby disappeared, and Fleur heard the thud of her trunk being dragged across the floor. Fleur went to her own room. She didn’t have much. She packed her favorite dress, a bottle of cheap perfume, and a pair of stockings with only one run. She stared at her reflection in the cracked mirror, pulled her hair down from its ponytail, and let it fall loose around her shoulders. She ran her tongue over her lips, tasting Harry, and smiled.

Apolline stood in the doorway, watching her. “You know,” her mother said, “Men like him are never satisfied with just one.”

Fleur smiled, her own eyes glinting. “I know. From what Hermione told me, he already has several.”

Apolline stepped forward and hugged Fleur. They clung to each other, trembling with relief. “We will be safe now,” Apolline whispered.

Fleur nodded, but her mind was already somewhere else. She was thinking about the next time Harry would kiss her, the next time he would press her up against a wall, and the next time he would make her feel alive. In the other room, Gabrielle sang a silly song as she packed, her voice soft and sweet. Fleur joined in, and soon the whole shack was filled with the sounds of three women, hungry, hopeful, and loud.

The Great Recession

The Playwiz Mansion didn’t look real. Fleur stood in the center of her new bedroom and blinked, convinced she would wake up back in the shack, hands numb from the cold and Gabby’s elbow jabbing into her ribs. The thick carpet cushioned her feet, and every time she took a breath, the air tasted of oranges and fresh linens. The bed was enormous. It was twice as wide as it was long, with a pale blue duvet and a stack of silk pillows. There was a wardrobe the size of her old living room, and every surface gleamed with polish. She pressed her hand to the dresser, half-expecting the wood to disappear at her touch, but it was cool and solid and, most importantly, it was hers. 

She spun in a slow circle, arms out, and giggled. She heard her mother’s voice in her head, ‘Veelas don’t giggle, Fleur!’ but she couldn’t stop herself. She ran to the window, drawn by a piercing shriek of laughter from the garden. She yanked the drape aside and gawked at the sight below.

Apolline and Gabby were in the pool. The water steamed gently, sending ribbons of vapor over the tile. Apolline floated lazily on her back, her hair fanned out like a silk scarf. She wore a white bikini that barely covered her nipples and nothing else. Her large, pale breasts bobbed against the blue water. Gabby, meanwhile, was perched on the edge of the pool, legs dangling, while splashing water at her mother.

Gabrielle’s bikini was pink and so tiny it looked painted on. The top didn’t even pretend to hide her nipples, and the bottoms were a thin triangle with two string ties. Gabby was built like a model. She had long, shapely legs, wide hips, and an impossible hourglass figure. Fleur stared, unable to look away, as Gabby arched her back and thrust her tits skyward, then dove into the pool with a wild, exuberant laugh.

Fleur’s cheeks flushed. She wasn’t a prude by any means, but seeing them so unapologetically exposed was jarring. It was something she knew she had to get used to. She pressed her forehead to the glass, watching as Apolline lifted herself onto the edge, water streaming down her long, smooth legs. Suddenly, there was a knock at the door.

Fleur pulled herself together, smoothed her hair, and opened the door to find Harry standing in the hall, hands tucked into his pockets. He wore black jeans and a fitted white T-shirt that clung to his arms and chest. His eyes flicked up and down her body, and Fleur felt her nipples pebble under her blouse.

“Can I come in?” he asked, voice casual.

“Please,” she replied. She stood aside and let him pass.

Harry took in the room with a slow, appreciative sweep of his gaze. “You like it?” he asked, turning to face her.

Fleur nodded, a smile spreading across her lovely lips. “It is beautiful,” she said, her voice soft.

“You deserve it,” Harry said, meaning it. He sat on the edge of her bed, testing the give of the mattress with one hand. “It’s one of the best rooms in the house. Hermione said you would appreciate the view.” He jerked his head toward the window.

Fleur flushed again. “I see my mother and sister ‘ave already made themselves at ‘ome,” she said, her eyes flicking to the pool.

Harry smirked. “That’s what it’s here for. There’s no point in having a pool if no one uses it.”

Fleur hesitated, then asked, “ ‘ow is it so warm?”

“Magical wards,” Harry said. “It keeps the pool area warm in the winter and cool in the summer. The rest of the house is enchanted the same way.”

Fleur took a few steps closer, the thick carpet silent under her feet. “It’s like a dream,” she said, more to herself than to him. Harry looked at her, and the air between them turned heavy and charged. Fleur felt a pulse of heat in her belly. She wondered if he could smell the pheromones she was giving off.

Harry rose and closed the distance. He stood a foot from her, his eyes searching her face. “You know,” he said, voice low, “You could have asked for help sooner.”

Fleur’s breath hitched. She looked up at him and felt the old, familiar ache of want. “I was too embarrassed,” she admitted with a blush.

He touched her hip, his fingers light at first, then firmer. He ran his hand up her side, cupping her waist, and he pulled her closer until their bodies almost touched. He traced his thumb along the hem of her blouse, then dipped it under the fabric and dragged it across her bare skin. Fleur shivered and leaned in. Harry’s mouth was on hers before she could think. He kissed her hard, then soft, his tongue flicking over her lips and into her mouth. Fleur moaned and melted into him, clutching his shoulders. He tasted like peppermint, which Fleur adored.

He slid his hand down to her ass, squeezing it through the thin cotton of her skirt. Fleur pressed against him, grinding her hips into his. She could feel the outline of his thick, stiff cock straining against his trousers. She wanted it badly. She wanted it inside her. She broke the kiss, panting. “It’s been a long time,” she admitted, voice trembling.

Harry smirked. “I’ll make it worth the wait.”

Fleur didn’t bother with words. She took a step back, turned around, and reached under her skirt. She hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her panties, slid them down to her ankles, and kicked them across the room. She turned to face him, her legs bare, her pussy already wet and dripping. She waited for Harry to move, to pounce, but he just stood there, eyes hungry and appreciative. He let the tension build.

Fleur smiled seductively and removed her blouse. She snapped her bra off, letting her big tits bounce free. She then reached back and unclasped her skirt. It slid down her legs and pooled at her feet. Fleur stepped out of it and displayed herself to him. She was naked, wet, and ready. 

He crossed the room in two steps, swept her up in his arms, and tossed her onto the bed. She landed with a muffled oof, then giggled, wild with anticipation. Harry was on her a second later, his hands on her knees, spreading her legs wide. He knelt between her thighs, looked at her pussy, then up at her face. “You’re beautiful,” he said.

Fleur blushed, but she didn’t look away. She reached down and spread her lips, showing herself to him, her clit already swollen and aching. Harry groaned, dropped his head, and licked a long, slow stripe up her slit. Fleur arched her back, gasping. She felt his tongue circle her clit, then dive inside her, licking and sucking and eating her out like he was starving. She dug her nails into the sheets and writhed under his mouth, moaning loud enough for the whole house to hear.

Harry didn’t let up. He sucked her clit, then flicked it with his tongue, then buried two fingers inside her, fucking her with slow, twisting strokes. Fleur’s thighs shook, and her hips bucked against his face. She could feel the orgasm building, and she let it crash over her with a scream. She came hard, her pussy clamping down on his fingers and her legs shaking. Harry kept licking, kept fucking her with his fingers, until she was a quivering mess. He finally pulled back, wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, and smiled down at her. “Don’t you wish you had come to me sooner?” he asked.

Fleur couldn’t speak. She just nodded, limp and satisfied. She lay on the bed, still trembling from the aftershocks of Harry’s tongue, the sheets damp beneath her hips. She groaned, feeling completely sated, and her body thrummed with the steady pulse of pleasure. Harry hadn’t moved. He crouched between her thighs, his mouth slick with her juices. He stared at her wet, naked pussy with fascination.

He slowly ran two fingers up her slit, gathering the wetness and rubbing it into her skin. Fleur moaned, too spent to be embarrassed by the sound. She let her knees fall open, showing off everything, and relishing the way his gaze devoured her. She wanted to say something, but the only sound that came out was a shaky, pitiful whine.

Harry smirked as he devoured her body with his eyes. He hooked his hands under her knees and pulled her closer to the edge of the bed, so her ass hung off the side and her legs dangled in the air. He leaned in, licked her clit once, then blew a cold breath on it. Fleur bucked, her hips twitching, and her pussy aching for more. He didn’t give it to her.

Instead, he kissed his way up her belly, taking his time. He pressed his lips to the smooth skin just below her navel, then moved up to her ribs and then her chest. He lingered over her breasts, which were large, soft, and perfectly round. He took one in his hand, squeezed it, then sucked the nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the hard, pink bud. Fleur arched her back and shoved her tit into his face. She loved how greedy he was. He bit down, just enough to send the smallest spike of pain through her, and she gasped.

“You like that?” Harry asked, his voice thick.

“Yes,” Fleur breathed, “please.”

He switched to the other nipple, first pinching it with his fingers. Her tits were sensitive, and her whole body was tuned to his touch. He bit, licked, and sucked until her nipples were puffy and sore, then kissed back down her belly to her mound. He slowly licked her there, savoring her taste and loving the smell of her arousal.

Her mound was smooth and puffy, and the skin was pale and perfect. Her pussy lips flushed pink and glistened in the light coming through the large window. Harry spread her open with both thumbs, exposing the tight, trembling slit. He stared at it for a moment, then rubbed her clit with the pad of his thumb.

Fleur whimpered, her hands tightly gripping the sheets. Her clit throbbed, swollen from the earlier orgasm, but Harry didn’t let up. He leaned in and licked her from asshole to clit, again and again, until she was shivering and moaning his name. He rimmed her asshole with his tongue, then pressed his thumb against it and gently pushed. The pressure made her pussy clench and leak a fresh gush of juice onto his tongue.

He plunged two fingers into her cunt, curling them up to stroke the spot that made her knees jerk and her vision blur. He fucked her with his fingers, tongue still on her clit, and it was so much, so overwhelming, that she came again. This time, it was brutal. Her whole body locked up, every muscle shaking, and she squirted a jet of clear fluid right into his mouth.

Harry swallowed it, never breaking rhythm. He kept finger-fucking her until she came a second time, then a third. By the end, Fleur’s eyes were rolled into the back of her head, and she was clawing at the sheets. Her silky walls spasmed around his fingers, and her pussy drooled more and more liquid every time she came.

He finally relented and pulled back, licking his lips. He stood up and stripped off his shirt, then shucked his trousers and boxers in one motion. Fleur stared in awe. His cock was huge. It was thick and veiny, and the head was flushed dark, leaking precum. It looked almost comically large for his frame. He knelt on the bed, spread her legs even wider, and lined up the head with her pussy. He slapped her clit with his cock, once, then twice, making her jerk and whimper. Then, in one slow, relentless push, he shoved it inside.

Fleur screamed in pleasure. She felt herself stretch, then mold around him. He bottomed out, his balls pressed tight against her ass, and he held it there, letting her get used to the size. She was so wet, and the slippery friction was almost unbearable, but she didn’t want him to stop. He started to move, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back in. Each thrust sent a shockwave up her spine. Her tits bounced with every movement, her nipples red and swollen from earlier. Harry watched them, hypnotized by the way they bounced and swayed. He then reached up and grabbed them both, squeezing and kneading as he fucked her.

Fleur’s brain short-circuited. All she could do was moan, grunt, and babble his name. Harry sped up, his hips pistoning back and forth. The slap of skin on skin echoed through the room. The sound was obscene, wet, and desperate. He hooked her legs over his shoulders, folding her in half, and fucked her even harder. The new angle hit her g-spot with every thrust, and she felt another orgasm build. She could immediately tell that it was going to be bigger than the last. She locked her ankles behind his neck, pulling him deeper.

She came with a shriek, her pussy clenching so tight it felt like she’d crush him. She squirted again, a torrent this time, soaking his cock and balls. Harry groaned, never stopping his thrusts. He kept pounding her, fucking her through her orgasm, pushing her higher and higher.

Fleur came again, and again, each time more fierce and raw. Her cunt felt like it was on fire, her body trembling. She was aware of nothing but the way he filled and stretched her, the way his cock battered her insides, and the way her pussy gushed and squelched around him.

Harry grunted, his own pace stuttering. He grabbed her hips, slammed in one last time, and held her there. She felt his cock twitch, then explode, flooding her pussy with thick, hot cum. There was so much of it she could feel it leaking out around his shaft and running down over her asshole onto the sheets. He collapsed on top of her, both of them slick with sweat and cum. He kissed her slowly and deeply, and Fleur kissed him back, tasting herself on his tongue.

They lay like that for a long time, wrapped together and breathing hard. Harry stroked her hair, laid soft kisses along her jaw and lips, and whispered, “You’re amazing.” Fleur mewled cutely and snuggled deeper into him. 

Out in the pool, Apolline floated on her back, eyes closed, soaking up the sun and the heat. She heard every sound from Fleur’s window, every scream and moan and pleading gasp. She let herself drift, legs parted, water lapping between her thighs. She ran a hand down her belly and between her legs, pressing her fingers to her clit. She moaned softly, her hips rising out of the water as she rubbed herself. She imagined Harry inside her, fucking her the way he fucked Fleur. She imagined his hands on her tits, his cock splitting her open, and his tongue licking her everywhere. Apolline was in desperate need of a man, and it seemed the perfect candidate walked right into her life.