The Great Recession (Ch. 1)

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

The Great Recession

Chapter 1

Hermione was at her wit’s end. The wizarding world’s economy had been doing very poorly over the last few years, but that was nothing compared to what had happened six months ago. The economy had gone into a massive recession, the likes of which they had never seen. The galleon’s worth had absolutely tanked, and practically everyone had lost their jobs. The Ministry was being run by a skeleton crew, and of course, Hermione had been laid off along with everyone else. 

She walked the main street of Diagon Alley, staring in disbelief at the number of boarded-up shops. The alley used to be so lively, but now there were only a few shops still holding on. One shop that had survived was Susan Bones’. She had opened it up a few years ago, and somehow, it had survived. Hermione looked in the window and found it empty. There were racks filled with lingerie and women’s underwear, but there were no customers. She went inside, and when the bell rang, Susan came out from the back. She saw Hermione and smiled. “Hey, Hermione. I haven’t seen you in a while,” Susan said as she stood behind the counter. 

Hermione smiled back. “Yeah, I know. I haven’t had much time to socialize. I’ve been looking for a job for months,” Hermione admitted. Susan nodded in understanding. 

“You and everyone else. Every day, I have people coming in begging for a job. It makes me sad to have to tell them no,” she said, sadly shaking her head. “Anyway, I heard about the Burrow. I’m sorry you guys had to go through that.”

Hermione sighed, feeling the stress bubble up. The Weasleys were forced to sell the Burrow when they couldn’t pay their taxes. They barely got anything for it. 

“Yeah. I’m not even sure where Molly and Arthur went,” Hermione responded. Susan looked at her, confused. Hermione blushed and continued. “Ron and I got divorced. He didn’t handle the stress very well,” Hermione confessed. 

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Susan sadly stated. “So, where are you staying?” she asked, wiping down the top of her glass counter. 

“In a room at the Three Broomsticks. I have to share it with four other girls,” Hermione told her, too defeated to even feel embarrassment. 

“Why don’t you go to Harry?” Susan asked. Hermione shook her head. 

“I haven’t talked to him since we had a big fight about him starting that filthy magazine,” Hermione told her. 

“Playwiz,” Susan said, and Hermione nodded. 

“I really chewed him out about it. It’s disgusting! He shouldn’t be treating women that way,” Hermione said, crossing her arms over her chest. Susan just shrugged. 

“Personally, I don’t mind. The women are adults and can make their own choices.”

“Yeah, but …” Hermione began, but then stopped. She didn’t want to argue with Susan. “What about that huge house he’s staying in?”

Susan smiled. “The Playwiz Mansion?” she asked, and Hermione nodded. “It’s actually a really nice place.”

Hermione’s eyes widened. “You’ve been there?” she asked. 

“I live there,” Susan told her. “Harry’s the only reason why I still have a shop. After I lost my house, I started living here in the shop. When it became clear I was about to lose the shop as well, I went over to Harry and asked if his girls wanted a good deal on some of my merchandise. I found out that Harry still had a bunch of empty rooms, and I asked about renting one of them.”

“You live there?!” Hermione’s voice squeaked in shock. 

“He was reluctant to let anyone else move in, but then I made him a deal he couldn’t pass up,” Susan said with a smirk. Hermione’s eyes narrowed. 

“What kind of deal?” she asked.

“In exchange for a massive discount on rent … let’s just say that he’s never lonely when I’m around,” Susan happily confessed, which made Hermione sputter with indignation. 

“I can’t believe Harry would do that!” Hermione practically shrieked. Susan rolled her eyes. 

“It was my idea, Hermione, and I’m quite happy how it all turned out. I …” Her explanation was cut off by an irate Hermione Granger. 

“That’s going way too far! No, I’m not going to let this stand. I’m going over there and giving him a piece of my mind!” Hermione said, her face red with anger. Before Susan could stop her, Hermione left the shop in a huff. 

The Great Recession

Harry hunched over his mahogany desk, scratching a final note in the ledger before closing it and giving the binding a satisfied tap. Even now, years after he’d taken a sizable amount of money out of Gringotts, he still preferred the old-fashioned quill and ink to any Muggle spreadsheet. His account manager had proven her worth from the very start, and Harry had long since learned to heed her advice. Four years ago, she strongly suggested that he get his money out of the wizarding world. “It’s going to go belly-up, Potter. I’ve seen the numbers. Move to Muggle tech, pharmaceuticals, and aviation. Now.” He’d listened, and the old guard hadn’t. In the chaos that followed, fortunes were lost, but Harry’s grew. It grew by a sizable amount. The only investment he had left in the magical world was his magazines, Playwiz and Wicked Witches. Both of them had taken a hit from the recession, but at least they were still profitable. 

He glanced up at the wall of moving photographs. The pictures were taken at some of his wild parties, and Harry couldn’t help but smile. He knew Sirius would have been proud. A high-pitched, gleeful squeal cut through the quiet room. Harry turned in his seat, pushed the chair back, and walked to the window. From his view above the courtyard, he saw twelve Playwiz models, all clad in the tiniest bikinis, chasing each other around the pool. The water glittered, and the girls’ hair flashed like gold, copper, and platinum in the sunlight. He caught sight of a bright pink bikini flying through the air, followed by a string of laughter and a playful shove. He watched for a moment, grinning like a complete idiot. 

A pop sounded behind him. “Master Harry?” piped Twiggy, his personal House Elf, who was dressed in a Playwiz-branded uniform. “You has a guest downstairs.”

“Thanks, Twiggy. You’re the best,” Harry said, turning away from the window with a sigh. 

The entrance foyer seemed kind of dark after the brilliance of the courtyard, and it smelled faintly of the girls’ various perfumes. Hermione Granger-Weasley stood in the center of the marble floor, arms crossed so tightly her knuckles were nearly white. She wore a simple sleeveless dress, and her brown hair was pulled into a ponytail. Her pink lips were pressed in a grim line. Harry could tell she’d been rehearsing what she wanted to say. He could also tell she was furious. He’d always had a soft spot for Hermione’s fury.

“Nice to see you, Hermione,” he said, leaning against the banister. “Twiggy tells me you skipped breakfast. Shall I have her send up some coffee?”

Hermione ignored the offer. “We need to talk,” she said, each word sharper than the last.

Harry gave her his best innocent smile and pocketed his hands. “About?”

She took a breath, then exploded. “Susan Bones? Harry, really? I just finished talking to her and …”

He held up a hand. “Whoa. Hermione. Susan’s a dear friend. She needed a place to stay for a while, and this house is …”

“... practically a brothel!” Hermione’s eyes flashed. “Do you think people don’t notice? You’re all over the Prophet. ‘Witches of Playwiz Mansion,’ honestly! And now you’re offering Susan a suite with all the trimmings, because she’s …”

“Because she’s my friend,” Harry finished, though the smugness in his grin undercut the defense. “You know I’d do the same for you.”

Hermione’s nostrils flared. “I doubt you’d do the same for me unless I agreed to shake my tits for your filthy magazine.”

Harry’s laugh echoed off the walls, but Hermione was in no mood for jokes. She stamped her heel, which made a satisfying clack on the marble. “I’m serious, Harry! Susan’s had a tough year. She’s not thinking clearly. You’re taking advantage …”

“Oh, get off your high horse,” Harry said, cutting her off. “Sometimes people just want a bit of comfort, Hermione.”

“Don’t patronize me,” Hermione shot back. “You’re not the only one who can read the subtext. ‘Comfort’ in your world comes with a hot tub and a centerfold contract.”

Harry’s smile faltered, just for a second. He shook his head, as if brushing off a stray thought. “Look, it’s not like that. Susan is perfectly capable of making decisions for herself. You, above all people, should know that.”

Hermione’s eyes narrowed. “And if I told you I didn’t believe that for a second?”

“I’d say you’re being unreasonable … as always,” Harry replied, folding his arms. For a moment, neither of them spoke. The air was thick with old wounds.

Hermione relented with a shaky sigh. “If she’s really your friend, you’ll make sure she’s not being pressured. She’s… she’s vulnerable right now, Harry. Her family’s legacy is on the line, and you …”

“She asked me, Hermione. That’s all this is.” Harry’s voice was patient, but his gaze was sharp. “I don’t force anyone to do anything, and if the Prophet wants to run with a scandal, let them. It’s not like I haven’t seen worse.”

Hermione deflated a little but kept her arms folded. “Well, it’s not just the Prophet. There are… rumors.”

Harry’s lips twitched. “What kind of rumors?”

“Rumors about the things that go on during your parties,” Hermione told him. Harry couldn’t help but chuckle. 

“My parties do tend to get a bit wild, but that’s no one’s business but mine,” he said, shutting her down. 

“You know, Hermione … I heard about your divorce. I also know that you’ve been sleeping in that fleabag shack that Rosmerta built behind her pub,” Harry said, and Hermione’s cheeks flamed red in embarrassment. “Did you really come all the way over here to chew me out, or are you hoping that you’ll get the same offer as Susan?” Harry asked with a cheeky grin. 

Hermione sputtered as Harry eyed her up and down. “No!” she squealed in indignation. “I’d never!” she nearly shouted, and Harry laughed. 

“Susan’s got a pretty sweet deal,” Harry said, shrugging. “She gets room and board in a mansion for less than you pay for your sad, miserable room. She gets access to the pool, library, hot tub, gym …” Harry continued, stating all the perks of the Playwiz Mansion. “And, of course, she gets all the orgasms she can handle,” Harry smirked, his eyes twinkling. 

“Ugg! You’re disgusting!” Hermione huffed, and Harry laughed again. 

“Maybe you should stop being such a prissy little prude and think about it,” Harry told her, but she just turned her nose up at him. “I saw Ron down in Knockturn Alley the other day,” Harry added. “He was chatting up some fifty-year-old streetwalker. He was trying to get her from five sickles down to two,” he said with a smirk, and Hermione stiffened. Harry felt he had made his point. 

“Think about it,” he simply said. “You can show yourself out,” Harry told her, and went back up to his office. Hermione stood there with her mind reeling. Eventually, she snapped out of it and left the mansion. 

The Great Recession

Hermione shut the door behind her, breathing through her nose. She heard Susan giggling before she even got to the counter.

"Well?" Susan asked, her voice as slick as honey. "How'd it go?"

Hermione slumped against the counter, color blooming in her cheeks. "Not well," she muttered.

Susan laughed, a deep, throaty cackle. "Did you see his cock?"

Hermione's face burned hotter. "Susan!"

"Come on now, Hermione," Susan said, her eyes glinting mischievously. "It's the only thing anyone talks about once they've seen it."

Hermione sank onto the arm of the couch, avoiding Susan's gaze. "He was impossible. Utterly arrogant. He made it sound like I was lucky to be in the same room as him."

Susan snorted. "He's not wrong. You are lucky, you know. Everything around here has gone to shit, and you have a lifeline. Trust me, the price is well worth paying." She leaned over and propped her chin on her fist. "He is, for lack of a better word, spectacular."

Hermione tried not to squirm. "I don't care about that. I care about …"

Susan cut her off with a wave. "You care about books and logic, and I’m guessing you care about getting the best deal possible. That's why you came to me, isn't it?" Hermione pressed her lips together. She didn't like being read so easily. Of course, Hermione was thinking about the offer, but she had too much respect for herself to actually take it. At least, that’s what she kept telling herself. 

Susan leaned in, eyes hungry. "If you really want to know, yes, I fuck him. Frequently … and I love it." She spread her hands. "You can't imagine what he does to me." Hermione tried, but the images made her shift in her seat.

Susan smirked. "He's huge, you know. He’s not just long, but thick as well. Sometimes he can't get it all in me, even if I ride him. My hips are still sore from last time."

Hermione wished the floor would swallow her whole. "I really don't need details."

"Are you sure?" Susan said. "Because you look like you do."

Hermione stood up, back stiff. "Thank you for your candor. I have a lot to think about."

"You're welcome," Susan said. “If you want my advice, go to Harry and ask him to let you stay. Things aren’t going to get better any time soon, and I know Harry will take really good care of me. He’ll take care of you, too."

Hermione didn't respond. She fled to her tiny rented room behind the Three Broomsticks. The staircase creaked with every step. Her flatmates were already in, and their voices were louder than the music blaring out from the wireless. She shut her door, but the noise bled through. She dropped onto her uncomfortable bed, opened a book, and tried to read. The words floated past. Her mind was fixated on Susan's stories and the crude certainty of her voice. The idea of Harry, naked, with that monstrous cock swinging between his legs .... What would it feel like to have him inside her? Hermione shivered and shut the book.

There was a sudden thump against the wall, followed by laughter. Someone in the next room moaned. A girl in the hallway shouted, "Keep it down!" No one listened.

Hermione stared at the ceiling, palms pressed to her eyes. What little gold she had in her life savings was almost gone. She couldn’t even go home. Her parents had stayed in Australia and had eventually gotten divorced. Besides, she hadn’t been in the Muggle world for a very long time. She didn’t even have a high school diploma. She then thought about what Harry had said about Ron. Everyone was moving on except her. It made her angry, but mostly it made her tired.

Tired of the constant, annoying noise her flatmates were making, Hermione got up, put on a coat, and went for a walk. The streets of Hogsmeade were empty and noiseless, except for the clatter of her shoes on wet cobbles. Her hands were in her pockets, and her head was ducked to protect her face from the wind. She walked past the Three Broomsticks, then the Shrieking Shack. She had nowhere to go. She had no friends that she could count on. 

She stopped at the edge of town, turned, and walked back. When she climbed the stairs to her flat, there was a new set of voices inside. The girls shrieked about something before Hermione heard a crash of glass and more laughter. Hermione's eye twitched. If she stayed one more second in that room, she would hex the lot of them. She slumped against the door. "I've spent my whole life being good and following the rules," she whispered. "And what have I got to show for it?"

She didn't think. She just apparated straight to Harry's.

The Great Recession

Harry was up late, reading the Prophet with half his attention. The other half he spent watching the storm through his bedroom window, counting the seconds between lightning and thunder. The mansion was silent. All the girls were in their respective rooms, and Twiggy had already retired to her quarters … or so Harry thought.

The House Elf materialized with a pop and bowed low. "Miss Granger is at the door, sir."

Harry didn't move at first. Then he set the paper aside and folded it with deliberate slowness. "Did she say what she wants?"

"She says it is urgent." Twiggy squeaked. 

Harry smirked. He let Twiggy lead him to the foyer. Hermione was standing there, water dripping from her brown hair. Her clothes were plastered to her body. She stared at Harry with unblinking intensity.

"You look like a drowned rat," Harry said, not unkindly.

"Let me in," Hermione said, voice hoarse.

"You're already in," Harry reminded her as she dripped all over his very expensive marble floors. 

She trembled, but not from cold. "You know what I mean. Which way to your bedroom?"

Harry blinked. "Third floor, first door on the left."

Hermione marched past him, trailing puddles. He followed, admiring the sway of her hips under the soaked fabric. In the bedroom, she peeled off her coat and flung it to the floor. She rounded on him. "I want the same deal as Susan."

Harry leaned in the doorway, arms crossed. "You sure?" he asked as he pulled out his wand and gave it a flick. Hermione was completely dry a second later. 

Hermione glared at him. "I am."

He closed the distance until they were nose to nose. Hermione's breath came out shallow. Harry cupped her chin and ran his thumb across her bottom lip. "Are you sure you know what you’re getting yourself into?" Harry gently asked. Hermione trembled from the intimate touch.

"I can handle it,” she assured him through a shuddering breath. 

He smiled. "Fair enough."

Harry lifted her by the ass, fingers digging into the soft flesh. Hermione squeaked and wrapped her legs around his waist. He walked her to the bed and bounced her onto the mattress. She lay there sprawled out, breathing hard. Harry stripped off his shirt. Hermione sat up, her eyes on his torso. The scars stood out, pale and wicked, but she didn't flinch. Instead, she grabbed his waistband and yanked him closer. Harry let her tug at his belt, but when her hands fumbled, he took over.

He unbuttoned her blouse slowly. Hermione tried to help, but he brushed her hands away. He liked undressing her, layer by layer. When he slid the blouse down her arms, he saw the goosebumps on her pale, smooth skin. A shiver ran through her. Her bra was plain white cotton, tight against her skin. Her nipples poked against the fabric. Harry hooked a finger under the strap, pulled it down, and exposed her breast. It was perky and firm, with a delicate areola. The nipple was even lighter pink than he'd imagined. Hermione blushed, but didn't look away.

He leaned in and traced the curve with his tongue, watching the nipple stiffen further. Hermione inhaled and arched her back. She reached for his head and grabbed fistfuls of his hair. He freed the other breast and kissed his way across her chest. Hermione writhed in naughty pleasure, silent except for a gasp when his teeth grazed her sensitive nipple.

"Is this what Susan gets?" she asked, her voice trembling.

Harry flicked his tongue across the hard, crinkled bud. "This is just the warm-up."

He slid her skirt up her thighs. Hermione's legs were smooth and pale, and he ran his hands up and down them, feeling the heat of her skin. He found her white cotton panties, which were just as plain as her bra. He yanked them down to her knees, exposing her. There was a faint triangle of brown hair on her mound, trimmed neatly. Beneath it, her pussy lips glistened a soft shade of pink. Harry pulled her panties off and tossed them into the corner of the room. Hermione squirmed, her thighs trying to close. Harry pushed them apart, fully exposing her to his greedy eyes.

He knelt at the edge of the bed, face level with her pussy. Hermione watched as he blew a breath across her slit, making her twitch. He ran his tongue flat from her entrance to her clit. His movement was slow and unhurried. Hermione squeaked in embarrassment. He licked her again, harder this time, and tasted her. She was a little musky and kind of sweet. He sucked her clit into his mouth and rolled it with his tongue. Hermione moaned, one hand over her mouth and the other clutching the sheets.

Harry ate her out like he'd been starving. He licked every part of her sexy body. He lapped at her inner lips, her clit, and even her tight asshole, which he tongued until she gasped his name. Hermione bucked against his mouth and lost all pretense of control. Her hand shot to his hair, yanking his face harder against her pussy. Harry buried his tongue inside her, lapping up her wetness. He rimmed her entrance, sucked her clit, then switched back to her ass, licking in tight, insistent circles.

Hermione shook, her whole body suddenly going stiff. Her thighs crushed his ears. Harry drove his tongue deeper, flicking it as fast as he could. Hermione let out a high-pitched squeal, and her hips jerked so hard she almost threw him off. Then it hit her. She convulsed, muscles locking, and her pussy squirted a clear gush of fluid across his face. Harry licked it up and drank everything she gave him.

Hermione collapsed, legs trembling. Harry stayed where he was, licking her until she whimpered from oversensitivity and tried to push his head away. He crawled up beside her and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. Hermione stared at the ceiling, dazed. Her hair was draped over her pretty face. Harry brushed it away and nuzzled her ear with his lips. "Still want Susan's deal?"

Hermione nodded, too spent to speak. He kissed her, and she tasted herself on his lips. Harry deepened the kiss, and Hermione let him. When Harry settled between her spread legs, she knew the night was just beginning.