Greed

A/N: The Harry Potter universe belongs to J.K. Rowling, I'm just borrowing them so I can have my naughty way with them. This is just a little one-shot I wrote because I needed a break from MIT. It's along the same theme as Envy but it's a story of its own. Read and Review.

Greed

“What happened?” Harry asks me when I open the door. Suddenly I feel stupid for calling him, seeing the look of concern on his face.

“Oh God,” I sigh. “You had a meeting this afternoon, I forgot. I'm so sorry. This is nothing, it can wait.”

He just looks at me. “Hermione, the meeting can wait.” He brushes past me and I take a stolen moment to breathe in his scent. Still feeling foolish I close the door. Harry has taken off his jacket and has casually draped it over the back of the sofa. I take a guilty once over of him, appreciating the business attire he has worn, the dark slacks, the crisp white shirt, the crimson red tie. It brings me back to our days at Hogwarts.

“So, what happened?” he asks me, snapping me back to this moment in time.

“Ron and I got into another fight,” I sigh, “just before he left this morning for Sydney.”

Harry folds his arms over his chest. “Sydney?” he asks. “Wasn't he just in Ireland?”

“It's another promotional…thingy,” I reply, twisting my fingers together. My husband, Ron, is a professional Quidditch player for the Chudley Cannons. They say that the first year of marriage is the most difficult, I just didn't think it would be this tumultuous. To be honest, I wonder if I've instigated many of our problems. Even when we were dating, there was this…emptiness that I felt inside of me. Don't get me wrong, I love my husband, I do. It's just I feel the void inside me, a nagging little something that's strong enough to make my world tilt just a little off kilter.

Here's the pathetic part.

The only time it seems to right itself is when Harry is near.

It's a realization I've come to terms with over time. I've been slowly and gradually falling in love with my best friend. My husband's best friend. Our best friend. I think it's always been there in the back of my mind and it only decided to rear its ugly head when Ron proposed to me.

I tried to fight it. I would catch myself staring at Harry, watching his every nuance absolutely intrigued by him. His every laugh, his every smile, the different looks on his face. I would catch myself and mentally scold my idiotic behavior. I had it under control, or at least I thought I did. It lay dormant for the wedding and honeymoon. And it was only when Ron and I came back and had dinner at the Burrow did it rear its ugly head again. That was when Harry and Ginny began to start up their relationship again.

I've never felt so horrible about the thoughts that would run through my head about her. I was so jealous. I needed to fight it and for a few months I did my best by avoiding the two of them.

Then the quidditch season started and Ron was gone for weeks at a time. I was alone in the flat. It was broken into one time by someone trying to rob us but they were caught a few blocks away trying to escape. Luckily I wasn't home at the time having had dinner with my parents. I arrived up on the floor to find the corridor filled with aurors and I only barely had time to process this when Harry grabbed me into an air-restricting embrace.

“Oh, thank Merlin you weren't home,” he had whispered in my hair. I was absolutely terrified to stay alone in the place when I had found out what had happened. Harry was adamant about staying over. Nothing awkward happened that night as I was too terrified to even think properly. But the next day, Harry bought himself a cell phone and gave me his number to call if I needed anything, anything at all. He didn't like that Ron had to be gone for such long periods of time and he was worried about my safety.

I wish he didn't buy the damned thing in the first place.

At first, I only called him when I was frightened of being alone in the place. Harry would come over and sleep on the couch as he kept me company. Ron didn't mind, he was worried about my safety as well and what better security system than the boy who defeated the most evil wizard of our time? Then I found myself calling him for stupid things, just so I could see him, be near him, be in his company. It was when I realized I started calling him during his dates with Ginny did I realize it was getting out of hand. I knew they were out and about and I wanted him for myself.

I stopped calling him.

It was for the best since Ron was going to be home more often since the season was over. Harry had just become a large shareholder in some up and coming wizarding business so his time was pretty occupied as well. I would like to say that things became more settled between me and Ron but it wasn't the case. It was like we were two different people trying to get to know each other again. We fought a lot. Many times the end result would be me crying in our bedroom while he drowned his sorrows in a local pub. Sometimes he wouldn't come home until the next day. Phone numbers began to appear in his robes and I couldn't help but question his fidelity. I felt guilty about that, like the pot calling the kettle black seeing that I was mentally unfaithful to him when he was away.

I didn't dare call Harry.

One day, Ron had to leave for the countryside for a Cannons promotion. He was offered 50 galleons for the weekend that he would be away with a couple of other members of the team. I spent the weekend to myself, catching up on work, reading a book, trying out a new recipe from the book Molly had given me as a gift. Ron's weekend was plastered in some article in Witch Weekly a few days later that sparked another argument between the two of us.

A couple of weeks later, another offer for a team promotion came up. This time he was offered double for an entire week in Paris. We didn't need the extra money and I begged Ron to stay at home but he left two nights later.

Harry showed up that night.

It turns out it was my birthday. I had completely forgotten about it and evidently my husband did as well. I collapsed into a puddle of tears in his arms. I told him how Ron and I had been fighting and how he had left again on some stupid promotion for money we didn't need.

“Hermione, I'm sure Ron only wants to provide for you,” he said as he held me. But I didn't need the money and I didn't need Ron to provide for me. I needed…I needed…

Harry stayed the night on the couch again that night, leaving as custom in the morning. But again, I found myself calling him. There was a strange noise in the house, please find out if it's a boggart. What was the spell to fix a leaky faucet? Have you seen Crookshanks? He's been gone for days! That last one was a lie. I kicked the poor thing out of the house just moments before Harry arrived.

Ron left for Ireland two weeks after he came back home and now he has left for Sydney. More tears each and every time he left because I felt like we were falling apart and he didn't care. Or didn't seem to care what happened to us. I was afraid of Harry, afraid of my feelings for him. I wanted Ron to stay because he was barrier against me doing something absolutely foolish.

Something like calling Harry today and asking him to come over.

“Another promotional thingy,” Harry repeats. “Hasn't he already been to a billion already?”

I sigh and move past him and into the kitchen. “Harry…I really don't want to talk about this. I'm sorry I called.”

“I'm here because I have a friend in need,” he insists. “And apparently, she's quite upset.”

I give in. It really doesn't take much and I really do need his company right now. His presence is comforting and soothing. A guilty pleasure.

“Do you want some tea?” I ask, sighing as I fill the kettle.

“Yeah that's fine,” he replies as he leans against the doorframe of the kitchen. I cast the heating spell and wait in silence in front of the stove. I am very aware of Harry in my peripheral. His frame is tall, lean and toned. His unruly dark hair has remained unchanged, as well as the habit of wearing glasses. Although they are a more thin wire frame. He's not as tall as Ron nor is he as bulky but…oh, the way he carries himself. He has grown up from the skinny little boy he was but he seems like he is unaware of this. Unaware of just how handsome he his, unaware of the hungry stares the female population gives him. I, myself, included.

My gaze catches his penetrating one and I am so busted. Oh, I am such an idiot. I can feel the blush creeping up my body, the redness slowly crawling up my neck to my cheeks and the shrill whistle of the kettle makes me jump.

I hastily grab two mugs from the cabinet next to me and set down two cups. I pour the hot water into them and set the kettle back on the stove only to find that Harry has moved very near to me. My heart is pounding so loudly in my chest that I'm sure he can hear it. He reaches up and opens a door.

“Tea,” he says, taking down a small tin.

“Um, thank you,” I manage to choke out. As I reach for it, my fingers brush against his and a jolt of excitement burns through me. I hastily take the container from him and quickly dole out the tea. “Here you go,” I say, handing him a cup.

“Thanks,” he says softly, taking the delicate object. He turns and leaves the kitchen to sit at the table. I soon follow, taking the seat opposite him.

Silence.

It's long and awkward for two best friends. I really don't know what to say. I'm still recovering from that small moment in the kitchen. I really need to take my mind off of it, think of something distracting.

“How are you and Ginny?” I ask, taking a sip of tea.

The look Harry is giving me is an uncomfortable one, a penetrating shrewd look. He taps a finger lightly on the saucer underneath his cup. “Fine,” he answers.

“And business?”

“Fine.”

Another silence.

“I should go,” Harry says suddenly.

“Okay,” I reply quickly. Maybe a little too quick.

Part of me is relieved that he's leaving but another part is desperate to keep him here with me. Merlin, I'm so selfish.

“Are you going to be okay?” he asks me as he puts on his jacket. I nod. “Take care, Hermione,” he says as he opens the door.

“You too, Harry,” I say, gently closing the door behind him.

But it comes to a stop suddenly as Harry blocks it from closing. I can't read the look on his face but he doesn't say anything.

“Harry? Is everything---“

His lips are suddenly on mine and precious moments are wasted as I comprehend what is happening. They are warm and slightly chapped. The faintest trace of his aftershave permeates my nose. I can feel him begin to pull away but I raise my hand and place it on the back of his neck to keep him near as I open my lips to his.

Oh God he tastes so wonderful.

Explosions occur within me and I'm instantly addicted to him. I want him. I want all of him. The heat of his hand seems to penetrate through my shirt to my skin as he places it on the small of my back.

But this is oh so wrong. I don't care how much I want him, I can't have him. I shouldn't want him. I have to stop this.

We pull quickly away from each other.

“Oh fuck,” Harry breaths, panic clearly evident on his face.

“Harry.” My voice is weak and trembling.

He doesn't say anything more. He just opens the door and makes a hasty exit. I don't even realize how badly I'm shaking until I see my hands as I close the door. I sink to the floor and begin to cry.

~*~

I don't speak to him or call him. In fact, the next time I see him is when Ron is home and we are off to dinner at the Burrow. The afternoon air is comfortably warm and we take advantage by eating outside. We sit at our usual places at the table and with a flutter in my stomach I watch as Harry and Ginny sit across from us. He and I catch each others eyes and the familiar heat shoots through me. I have to look away. There's a pang of disconcertment as I watch him pull out the chair for Ginny. I take a sip of wine then turn to Angelina, Fred's wife, for conversation.

But dinner is pleasant and so is the chatter. Molly really does do wonders for the palette. And I've even managed to ignore Harry and Ginny…until Molly and Arthur turn their eyes to our end of the table.

“So, Harry, how's business?” Arthur asks.

“Um,” Harry wipes his mouth with his napkin, “it's fine.”

“What do you do?”

“Well, it's a…fledgling…company…”

“And it will be something great,” Ginny jumps in. “Harry succeeds in everything he does, this will be no exception,” she says as she looks up at him adoringly.

I have to physically restrain myself from rolling my eyes. I take another drink instead.

“Your lease is up on your flat in a couple of months, isn't it?” Molly asks her daughter.

Ginny has the decency to blush. “Uh, yes it is.”

“Have you found any place to live?” she asks casually, her radar on Harry. The thought of the two of them moving in together really upsets me and I grab the wine bottle and pour myself another glass. I feel Harry's eyes on me as I take another drink. It's an odd look like he's willing me to do something but I'm just not getting the message.

“I'm sure something will come along, mum,” Ginny answers politely. Harry squirms uncomfortably in his seat.

“Aw let off of him, mum,” Ron jumps in to rescue his friend. “Let the man enjoy his bachelorhood while he can.” Thanks Ron, I say silently and sarcastically in my head.

But he's asked for it and Molly turns her hawkish gaze on him. “Like you have been?” she says tersely.

“Can't believe everything you read in the papers,” my husband shrugs.

“It's the pictures I'm concerned about,” Molly grumbles. Hmm, this wine really is good.

“It's all publicity,” Ron explains but I see that he has started to fidget with his hands, a nervous habit when he's lying. “It keeps my name in the headlines, keeps me more valuable to the team, brings more people to the games to see me.”

“You should be settling down, Ron, instead traveling all over the place. You're a married man! What about children?”

Every glass at the table shatters.

She always brings this up at every dinner. Molly is on a mission to have more and more grandchildren. But quick Reparos and cleaning charms clean the mess up. I've had enough though and I excuse myself from the table, leaving Ron to duke it out with his mother alone.

I splash some water on my face when I get to the bathroom and look at myself in the mirror. My cheeks are a little flushed. It happens when I drink too much wine and I do acknowledge the slight buzz that I'm having.

There's a soft knock at the door. “I'll be down in a minute, Ron.” I reply.

The door opens but it isn't Ron on the other side…

It's Harry.

“I just wanted to see if you were okay,” he says softly.

“I'm fine,” I reply and turn back into the mirror.

He steps into the room and closes the door behind him. I watch him through the mirror as he sits on the edge of the tub then looks at me. I take out my wand and cast a silencing charm over the room.

“Wanna talk about it?” he asks, looking as if I just told him Snape was joining us for dinner.

“Have you ever made a huge mistake, Harry?” I ask, peering at myself in the mirror. A broken woman looks back. I look at Harry through the mirror and see that he's gazing off somewhere else.

“Yes,” he replies softly, a pained look on his face. He must talking about the kiss. Something inside me shatters and I feel like I have nothing left to give. So I let it all out.

“Mine was marrying Ron when I was really in love with someone else.”

“What?” he says quietly.

I turn around to bravely face him and summon the last of my courage. “I was talking about you, Harry. I was in love with you…still am,” I finish in a whisper.

He looks like he's been run over by a train. His face registers complete shock as he stands up to leave. I know I'm standing in his way of the door but I don't move. Everything has changed between us, nothing will ever be the same again.

He approaches the door but instead of reaching for the knob, his hand brushes against my cheek then tangles in the back of my head as he leans down and kisses me.

He's kissing me!

It's not the reaction I expected from him but I don't waste any time in responding. He's even more wonderful than I remember and we fall back against the door as the kiss intensifies. My hands run over the hard planes of his chest and I can feel the heat of his body through his shirt. I want to feel him so I untuck his shirt and run my fingers over his hot skin. His kisses become a little more urgent and he begins to explore the sensitive skin of my neck with his lips. His name tumbles from my lips in a whisper and his lips meet mine again. My hands move up his body, over his neck and my fingers dance in his hair. Oh the lovely unrulyness of it all.

His hands have been making their slow journey up from my waist and now his fingers are dancing just below the swell of my breasts. “Touch me,” I murmur softly and he complies. The pads of his thumbs brush over my nipples sending shivers down my spine and I instinctively press my breasts forward into his palms. Our breathing is getting heavier and his gentle caresses are becoming more aggressive.

My hands move to the front of his shirt, hastily unbuttoning it. His skin is hot against my lips as I kiss his chest. I can't help but grin when I hear him groan. His heart is beating fast, competing with the frantic pace of my own. His hands move from my breasts back down to my waist where I feel him begin to bunch up my skirt. It seems effortless the way he lifts me and I wrap my thighs around him, my lips meeting his again as I am pressed against a wall.

Oh God he feels so wonderful between my legs.

Moisture flushes at my apex when I feel him press himself against me and I whimper. He moves away slightly then presses again. His mouth is hot and wet mirroring the sensation of other parts of my body that are so desperately crying out for him. He turns and sets me on the edge of the counter and proceeds to unbutton my blouse. His lips follow his hands, stopping at the valley between my breasts as he undoes the rest. He pushes my blouse over my shoulders and to midway down my arms before he lavishes the tops of my breasts. My hands tangle in his hair again as my thighs tighten around his waist. One of his hands tugs at the front of my bra, exposing my breast and I gasp out in pleasure when I feel his mouth surround it, gently sucking and nipping.

I want him to fuck me.

I don't know if he knows it, but he has me. There's no way I can turn back now and I don't want to. He's done the same to my other breast, giving it equal attention but I am a woman undone. I need more from him. I need him so badly. I reach down between us, feeling for the buckle of his belt. The coolness of the metal sends my heart racing even more as I frantically find my way to undo it. Harry doesn't stop me as he kisses me and I manage to unbuckle him. The snap of his button and the sound of his zipper seems so loud but it's a welcome sound that sends more moisture between my legs, readying myself for him. The skin of his penis is hot and velvety soft in my hand as I stroke his hardened length. It elicits a sound from him that I've never heard but it's primal and I want to hear it again.

I move his trousers over his hips, sneaking in a feel of his firm ass. His hands have moved to my waist and he has jerked me forward. My hands fly to either side of me, steadying myself against the sudden movement. But they help me lift my pelvis when he hikes my skirt even higher. His fingers curl around the elastic of my knickers and he gently tugs at them, bringing them across my thighs, over my knees and down my calves where I lift one leg to slide one foot out then the other. I scoot toward him.

“Oh God, Hermione,” he groans in a whisper in my ear.

His penetration is deep and I nearly cry in relief. The way he fills me is so pleasurable that I gasp for air. I love the way he feels inside me. But it's nothing, nothing compared to the way he moves. He pulls out, leaving just his tip only to slide back inside. He's stroking something inside me, some place that is begging to be stroked again as he slides in and out. I am vaguely aware of the rattling jars that were once resting peacefully on the counter. I throw out my hand to brace myself against the wall as he moves against me. His fingers are digging painfully into my hips but I don't care.

Oh God, I can feel it. That wonderful sensation that everyone talks about, the reason why they have sex and enjoy it. A sensation that even my husband has failed to bring me to. A sensation that I've only experienced through my own manipulations. A sensation that Harry is hurtling me to, uncontrollably, with every thrust inside me. My fingers dig into the counter and press against the wall. I'm going to die. I gasp Harry's name as the tension coils to an unbelievable point. He gives a particularly rough thrust that I feel with every part that he has sheathed himself in.

Holy. Fuck.

The release is wonderful as I feel myself tighten and pulse around him. “Harry!” I gasp aloud. The pleasure continues with the friction caused with the tightness that is grasping him. He thrusts deeply and I feel a new wetness inside of me as he comes. He thrusts again and pauses before he thrusts again bringing us both to the end of our climaxes.

Our breathing is rapid and deep as he drops his head to my breasts. I move his bangs off of his damp forehead and kiss the top of his head. My heart is still racing and I close my eyes. I hear birds chirping outside and the conversation from the table outside filters in through an open window. Thank Merlin for silencing charms.

My thighs are still trembling slightly from my orgasm and they are still wrapped around Harry's waist. He's still inside me and I can feel him twitch once and awhile. Eventual sounds of life come from him when he softly begins to kiss my breasts.

“Harry,” I say softly, forcing back the dark thoughts of my betrayal from creeping in. “We've got to get back.”

“They can wait,” Harry replies, nuzzling my neck. But I push him gently away. “You're right,” he sighs, dropping his head in defeat.

He slides out of me and I wait for the familiar feeling of emptiness to wash over me…but it doesn't. I contemplate that for a moment. Harry is offering me something and it takes a moment for it register that it's my knickers. I take them from him and step back into them, sliding them up my calves, over my knees and up my thighs. I notice that there's a bit of wetness on my thigh, at my apex and inside me. Evidence of Harry. Oddly, it's a turn on.

Harry has this look on his face and I happen to notice that his emerald eyes are a shade darker. “You look fine,” he says quietly, as I straighten my clothes out and look at myself in the mirror. My cheeks are flushed and my lips are puffy. I look like I've been thoroughly shagged. I splash some more water on my face then dry with a towel.

I didn't realize how warm it was in the room until the cool air blasts me when Harry opens the door. I take down the silencing charm and step out of the room. The voices outside get louder and more boisterous as I step down the stairs. The reality of what we have done will hit us when we face the Weasley's and with a start, I realize that I have not included myself as one even though I am married to one and carry his name. Maybe I never truly was one.

I don't know what's going to happen to me because I know that this changes everything. I can't continue on with who I was before and it frightens me a bit.

“Wait,” Harry whispers just as we are about to leave the stairs. He reaches out for me and gently turns me around to face him. He cradles my head as he delivers another kiss. This one is slow and sensuous. It makes me want him again and I think he knows this because one hand is traveling down my thigh to the hem of my skirt. I reach out and stop him.

“Harry,” I whisper, scoldingly. “Not here.”

“Where?” he whispers as he kisses me neck.

I don't answer him and instead pull away. I can barely manage it since every part of me is screaming in protest. I straighten out my clothing and march forward to join the others.

No one suspects anything. Why should they? Harry has always been the one to make sure that I was alright. The conversation has turned to Bill and Fleur but I can tell by the thin line of Molly's pressed lips that she wasn't too pleased with her conversation with Ron.

“Heads up, Harry,” George says as Hedwig makes an unannounced visit to the table, dropping a small scroll on Harry's plate. I look over at him in curiosity and I can't help but let my eyes linger on his hair. Hair that I, only moments ago, had my fingers tangled in.

“Everything alright?” Ginny asks him as he reads the letter.

“Yeah, it's just business,” Harry says nonchalantly then turns to Molly. “Can I use your floo? I need to—“

Molly and Arthur wave him off. “Go ahead, we'll leave you your privacy,” Arthur says.

“Thanks,” Harry says and leaves the table. My eyes follow him for only a moment before Fleur catches my attention in conversation.

*

I close the door and take a moment to watch Hermione sitting at the table. Merlin, she's gorgeous. I feel angry at the time that was wasted between us. When Hermione asked me about making mistakes, I thought I was going to waste away and die if she said our kiss was one. I didn't really mean for it to happen it's just that…a man has his limits and I've been rapidly approaching mine for quite some time.

I'm in love with Hermione.

I think I always have been and had only realized it during our final year at Hogwarts. After the defeat of Voldemort, there was such a whirlwind around us that I never really had the chance to do anything about it. Besides, she was dating my best friend Ron. So I pushed my feelings aside for them. Ron's proposal blindsided me. But I convinced myself that it was for the best. That she would be happy.

I was wrong.

I've always been known as a hero, as someone with a decent moral compass. They were labels that were thrust unwillingly upon me. But there's always been a bit of darkness inside of me. You can't have lived my life and not have a little.

I turn away from the door and walk into the living room. I put up some very strong detection charms to ensure my privacy before I change my appearance and sticki my head in the fireplace.

“Oh, Mr. Anderson!” a perky young blond greets me. “I suppose you got the message I sent? I'm sorry to bother you on the weekend.”
“No,” I reply dismissively. “I asked you to notify me as soon as our client contacted us.”

She straightens up. “Vampyre Vodka got the go ahead to host their party in Las Vegas.”

“Good to know our wining and dining paid off for the casino owners,” I say, rubbing my chin.

“They want some celebrities there.”

“Send out invites to the usual suspects. Contact the Cannons and have them send a few guys from the club.” I hear Hermione's laugh in the background and it stirs something strong within me. “Send an invite to Ronald Weasley personally. Offer him a little bit more money to sweeten the pot.”

“The casino is reserving a few suites for us.”

“Give one to Weasley.”

“Very well sir. I'll get started on the invites right away.”

I pull back from the fireplace and pause a moment to get my bearings before I stand and dust myself off. I'm about to change my appearance back when something catches my eye.

There on the mantel is Hermione and Ron's wedding photo.

I stand there and let the familiar sickening feeling wash over me. That day was one of the worst days of my life. How I managed to get through the day, I'll thank the copious amounts of Firewhiskey for. I did the typical noble Harry Potter thing and kept my damn mouth shut, locked my feelings deep inside for the sake of others. I've been dying inside since.

I wasn't going to stand by anymore and let her slip through my fingers. I deserve some sort of happiness and peace in my life comes as Hermione. Hermione and Ron would've self-destructed anyway. They're both unhappy. Anyone could see that. I merely acted as a catalyst. I knew just where to apply the right pressure.

I kneel back down and stick my head into the flames of the fire. “Sophia?” I say to my assistant. She sets her attention raptly on me. “Send an invite to Lavender Brown as well.”

“The model?” she asks.

“Yeah,” I nod. “And, uh, tip off Parvati Patil from Witch Weekly about the party.”

“Will do, sir.”

I stand up and change my appearance back to myself and take a good look in the mirror. Judge me if you want to but until you stand by and watch the woman you love marry another man right in front of you, you can't possibly know that pain. The glass shattering at the table was me. I couldn't stand the thought of Hermione having his children. I see her and I see the mother of my children.

The woman I love with every fiber in my being just told me she is in love with me. I made love to her. The feel of her thighs trembling, her warm tightness, the way she said my name as I brought her to her climax is forever etched in my mind and it brings with it a sense of possessiveness that I know she would scold me for. She can't be that way with Ron, the very thought of it brings me to the brink of insanity.

I walk back outside and take my seat across from Hermione. She looks up at me questioningly and I give her a small smile that everything is okay.

“Everything alright?” Ginny asks me and I pause for a moment before answering her. It's a loaded question.

“Yeah,” I reply. “I think it will be.”

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