Here's the first chapter of a new story I'm working on. I thought it would an interesting idea and couldn't get it out of my head. Hope you enjoy!
The wizarding economy has collapsed after the war. The Minister's bold recovery plan? A grand new district in Diagon Alley where witches sell their services to the wealthy. He calls it trickle down economics. He's urged Harry Potter to be seen doing his patriotic duty. Harry's not sure how shagging Lavender Brown for a knut counts as economic policy, but the Minister insists.
Harry Potter stood frozen in the middle of Diagon Alley, trying to make sense of what he was seeing.
This was the Alley. He knew it was the Alley. He'd walked these cobblestones a hundred times before, past Flourish and Blotts and Madam Malkin's and all the familiar shopfronts that had defined his childhood introduction to magic. But somewhere between the end of the war and now, the Ministry had transformed an entire section into something that looked like it belonged in a fever dream.
The storefronts gleamed. Freshly painted, well-lit, with actual Ministry seals stamped on the doors like this was the bloody Department of Magical Cooperation. Banners hung between the buildings in cheerful Ministry purple, emblazoned with slogans like "REBUILDING BRITAIN, ONE TRANSACTION AT A TIME" and "YOUR GALLEONS AT WORK" and, most absurdly, "TRICKLE DOWN ECONOMICS IN ACTION."
And in every single shopfront window stood a witch. Some lounging on cushions. Some posed against door frames. Some chatting with customers like this was perfectly normal. Each shopfront had a placard outside listing services and prices in neat, official-looking script.
Harry's brain refused to process it.
The economy collapsed, the Minister had explained in his office three days ago, wringing his hands. The war destroyed everything. Gringotts is barely functional. Half our businesses are gone. We needed a bold solution.
This was the bold solution. A government-sanctioned sex district in the heart of wizarding Britain's most famous shopping street.
You're Harry Potter, the Minister had continued, leaning forward with desperate eyes. The man who conquered. If people see you here, spending your fortune, doing your patriotic duty... it legitimises everything. Shows the public this isn't shameful. It's economic recovery.
Harry had wanted to refuse. Every instinct had screamed at him to refuse. But the Minister had made it sound like saying no would be personally responsible for the collapse of wizarding civilisation, and somehow Harry had found himself agreeing to at least visit.
So here he was. Standing in the middle of a sex district. Doing his patriotic duty.
Merlin help me.
He forced his feet to move, drifting toward one of the shopfronts almost at random. The placard caught his eye first, neatly printed in the same official Ministry font. Certified by the Ministry of Magic Economic Recovery Division. And beneath it, in cheerful purple lettering, a price list.
Handjob: one Knut. Titjob: one Knut. His eyes slid lower. Blowjob: three Knuts. Full service: one Sickle. Premium requests: five Sickles, inquire within.
Harry stared at the prices.
One Knut.
One knut.
His brain started doing maths before he could stop it. Sirius had mentioned once, offhand, that his Firebolt had cost about ten thousand Galleons. There were seventeen Sickles in a Galleon. Twenty-nine Knuts in a Sickle. That meant...
Harry's thoughts ground to a halt as he processed the number.
His broomstick was worth roughly five million titjobs.
Five. Million.
And the worst part, the truly insane part, was that he wouldn't even notice if ten thousand Galleons disappeared from his vault. The Potter fortune was obscene. The Black fortune on top of it was even more obscene. He had so much gold sitting in Gringotts that the goblins sent him quarterly statements in a font size small enough to fit all the zeros.
And these women were selling their bodies for less than the price of a chocolate frog.
"Harry? Harry Potter?"
The voice snapped him out of his spiralling thoughts. He looked up from the price list to find a familiar face beaming at him from behind the shop counter.
Lavender Brown.
She looked good. Better than good. The war had aged them all in different ways, but Lavender had come out of it with curves that hadn't been there at Hogwarts, her body having filled out into something that made Harry's mouth go dry. Her blonde hair tumbled past her shoulders in thick waves, and she was wearing a top that could generously be described as 'minimal.' It strained across her chest, barely containing what looked like genuinely impressive tits, the fabric cutting low enough that Harry could see the inner curves of both breasts pressed together.
"It is you!" Lavender's smile widened. She was practically vibrating with excitement, and the movement did interesting things to her cleavage. "Merlin's beard, Harry Potter in my shop! The girls are going to be so jealous."
"Lavender." Harry managed to get his voice working. "I didn't... I mean, I wasn't expecting..."
"Oh, I know, I know." She waved a hand dismissively. "Nobody expects to see their old classmates here, do they? But the war hit everyone hard, and honestly..." She leaned forward, her tits threatening to spill out of her top entirely, "...the money's not bad once you get used to it."
Harry opened his mouth to respond, but Lavender had already turned around.
"Just let me grab something, one second..."
She bent at the waist to reach something on a low shelf, and Harry's brain short-circuited.
Her skirt was short. Criminally short. And she wasn't wearing anything underneath it.
Harry found himself staring directly at Lavender Brown's bare arse, her pussy visible between her thighs, pink and smooth and glistening slightly in the shop's warm light. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other as she rummaged, her cheeks swaying hypnotically, her cunt peeking out from between her legs like it was putting on a show just for him.
This is deliberate, some distant part of Harry's brain noted. This is a sales tactic.
But knowing it was deliberate didn't stop his cock from hardening so fast it actually hurt. The blood rushed south with a vengeance, his trousers suddenly uncomfortably tight as he watched Lavender's arse wiggle back and forth.
Her pussy was perfect. Plump lips, a hint of pink wetness catching the light. He could see every detail from this angle, could imagine exactly how she'd feel wrapped around his cock, tight and warm and welcoming. His hands twitched at his sides with the urge to grab those swaying hips and bury himself to the hilt.
"Found it!"
Lavender straightened up and turned around with a bright smile, holding what appeared to be a small pillow. Her eyes dropped immediately to the obvious bulge in Harry's trousers, and her smile took on a knowing edge.
"So." She set the pillow down on the counter. "What can I do for you today, Chosen One?"
Harry's face burned. His cock throbbed. He glanced at the price list again, desperately searching for the cheapest option that would let him escape this situation with some shred of dignity.
"Titjob," he heard himself say. "Please."
Lavender's eyebrows rose slightly. A brief flicker of disappointment crossed her face before her professional smile snapped back into place. "One knut, then."
Harry fumbled in his pocket and produced a single bronze coin. It felt absurd in his palm. Less than nothing. He spent more on owl treats.
He handed it over. Lavender tucked it into a small box behind the counter, then gestured to a comfortable-looking chair in the corner of the shop.
"Have a seat, love. Let's get you sorted."
Harry sat. His cock was still straining against his trousers, visible and obvious, and he felt his face heat even further as Lavender approached. She moved with a confidence that suggested she'd done this many times before, dropping gracefully to her knees in front of the chair and settling between his spread thighs.
"Right then." Her fingers found his belt, nimble and practised. "Let's see what we're working with."
She undid his trousers with efficient movements, tugging them down along with his pants, and Harry's cock sprang free. It slapped against his stomach, thick and hard, already leaking at the tip.
Lavender's eyes went wide.
"Oh my." Her voice had dropped, genuine surprise replacing the professional cheerfulness. "Oh, that's... that's quite something, isn't it?"
Harry didn't know what to say. His cock twitched under her gaze, another bead of precum welling at the tip.
"Right." Lavender seemed to shake herself, her smile returning with renewed enthusiasm. "Right, okay, I can work with this."
She reached up and pulled her top off in one smooth motion.
Her tits spilled free, and Harry forgot how to breathe.
They were perfect. Heavy and round, topped with pink nipples that had stiffened in the cool air of the shop. They hung full and natural, swaying slightly as she settled into position, her soft skin catching the light. Harry had seen tits before, of course he had, but there was something about Lavender's that made his cock ache with desperate need.
She caught him staring and smiled, cupping her breasts in both hands, lifting them, presenting them like an offering.
"Like what you see?"
Harry nodded dumbly.
Lavender laughed, bright and pleased, and then she leaned forward and wrapped her tits around his cock.
The sensation punched a groan out of him. Soft, warm, impossibly smooth. Her breasts engulfed his shaft completely, swallowing his cock in a cushion of flesh that squeezed and pressed from all sides. She pressed them together with her hands, creating a tight channel, and began to move.
"There we go," she murmured, sliding her tits up and down his shaft. "That's it, that's the stuff."
Harry's hands gripped the arms of the chair. The pleasure was intense, immediate, her soft flesh working his cock with a rhythm that suggested extensive practice. He could see the head of his cock emerging from her cleavage with each upward stroke, glistening and purple, before it disappeared again into that heavenly warmth.
"Merlin, you're big," Lavender commented, almost conversationally. She squeezed her tits tighter, watching his cock slide between them with obvious appreciation. "Most blokes don't even poke out the top. Look at you, just... mmm."
She bent her head and licked the tip of his cock as it emerged from her cleavage.
Harry jerked in the chair, a strangled sound escaping him.
"Oh, you liked that, didn't you?" Lavender's eyes sparkled as she looked up at him. "Imagine if you'd bought the blowjob option. I could be doing this properly, getting my tongue all over this fat cock of yours." She licked him again, slow and deliberate, just the head, before continuing her titfucking rhythm. "Only three knuts. Bit of a bargain, really, for a cock this nice."
Harry gritted his teeth. His hips were starting to move on their own, thrusting up into the soft embrace of her breasts.
"Or..." Lavender's voice dropped lower, conspiratorial. "Full service is only a sickle. One sickle and you could be inside me, stretching my tight little pussy around this monster." She moaned softly, her eyes fluttering. "I can already tell you'd fill me up so good."
Harry's cock throbbed between her tits. His balls were already tightening, the pleasure building faster than he wanted it to.
"I've got a bed in the back," Lavender continued, her rhythm never faltering. "Nice and private. You could bend me over it, get a handful of my hair, and just take what you want." She squeezed her breasts tighter, creating more friction. "I'd let you do anything. Anything at all. You're Harry Potter, for Merlin's sake. Whatever you want, however you want it."
The mental image slammed into Harry with devastating force. Lavender bent over a bed, her arse in the air like it had been moments ago, but this time with his cock buried to the hilt in her cunt. His hands gripping her hips hard enough to bruise. Her moans filling the room as he fucked her into the mattress.
"Come on, Harry." Lavender's voice was pure temptation, her tits working his cock with increasing urgency. "You know you want more than this. I can feel how close you are already. One more knut and I'll suck you off after. Three more and you can cum down my throat. One sickle and I'll ride you until you can't remember your own name."
Harry's whole body was tensing. The pleasure was building to a peak he couldn't control, Lavender's sales pitch somehow making everything more intense. She was moaning now, soft little sounds of encouragement, her tits bouncing as she worked him faster.
"That's it, baby, let me feel it. Cum all over my tits, go on, mark me up good." She looked up at him with heavy-lidded eyes, her lips parted, her cheeks flushed. "And then we can go again. I'll make you feel so good. Just say the word, just spend a few more knuts, and I'll make all your fantasies come true..."
Harry came.
The orgasm ripped through him without warning, white-hot pleasure exploding from his core. His cock pulsed between Lavender's tits, thick ropes of cum shooting up to splash across her chest, her neck, her chin. She kept moving, kept squeezing, milking every last drop as Harry's hips jerked and twitched.
"Oh, that's it! Yes, give it to me, all of it!"
By the time the last spurts dribbled out, Lavender was a mess. His cum painted her tits in thick white streaks, dripped down her cleavage, clung to her flushed skin in glistening patches. She looked thoroughly used, and she was grinning like she'd just won a prize.
And then reality returned, as it always did, at the worst possible moment.
He'd just paid Lavender Brown one knut to wank him off with her tits. In a government-sponsored sex district. As part of his patriotic duty to rebuild the wizarding economy.
What the fuck am I doing?
Lavender was still talking, still cheerful, still selling. "That was lovely, wasn't it? Really lovely. But you know, you're still hard..." She glanced at his cock, which was indeed still standing at attention despite his recent orgasm. "Seems a waste to stop now, doesn't it? Just three more knuts and I can clean you up with my mouth. Get all this yummy cum off my tits while I'm at it. Or..."
She stood up, his cum dripping down her chest, and turned around to show him her arse. That perfect, round arse, with that pink pussy glistening between her thighs.
"One sickle and you can put that big cock somewhere warm. I'm all ready for you, Harry. Just say the word."
Harry was already pulling up his trousers.
"I have to go," he managed, his voice coming out strangled.
"What? But we were just getting started!"
He fumbled with his belt, refusing to look at her. His cock was screaming at him, still achingly hard, demanding he stay and take everything she was offering. But the rest of him was in full retreat.
"Thanks," he said, which was possibly the most idiotic thing he'd ever said in his life. "For the, um. For the titjob."
"Harry, wait! At least let me suck you off! It's only three knuts! You can't leave like this, you're still—"
But Harry was already out the door, practically running, his still-hard cock extremely obvious against his trousers as he fled down the street.
Behind him, Lavender stood in the doorway of her shop, his cum still cooling on her tits, watching him go with a frustrated sigh.
One knut.
She'd had Harry Potter, the Chosen One, the richest wizard in Britain, in her shop with his cock out, and she'd made one measly knut off him.
"Bloody hell," she muttered, wiping some of his cum off her tit and licking her finger clean. "What a waste."