Envy by Twitch E. Littleferret

Rating: NC17
Genres: Angst
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 6
Published: 13/07/2006
Last Updated: 13/07/2006
Status: Completed

The look on Harry’s face as he watches her approach is an odd one. It’s hard to describe this
look of detached interest. I can only equate it to a muggle show on the television I saw one night
when Ron and I were bored. Harry has the look of a lion watching a gazelle, not yet hungry enough
for the chase but marking where the food is just in case. It’s a look he’s never given me so I’m
not worried about it. Besides, this is Hermione, his best friend’s ex-girlfriend. ONE-SHOT.




1. Envy
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**A/N:** The world of Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling. I wish they were mine because then
I'd have a bigger closet with much more space. Here's a little one-shot that I whipped up.
Hope you all enjoy it!

**Envy**

There's a nervous anticipation that comes over me as I enter the flat. There's already a
crowd here, milling about and chatting away happily over the music that is playing. There's a
slight haze above everyone, the smoke of cigs and blunts assaults my senses the moment I step into
the place. There's enough space to make my way around but crowded enough that I'm almost
always in contact with someone.

I see some familiar faces here and they greet me with a smile or a hug, sometimes both. I say
hello back, have pleasant conversation with some of them but my attentions are really elsewhere.
I'm looking for him. He's the reason why I feel like there are a hundred butterflies in my
stomach just wanting and waiting to get out.

I have been looking forward to this day all week. I took today off of work where I have a job at
Witch Weekly as the Beauty Editor to go shopping and to the spa. I'm wearing a pair of designer
jeans that flatter my long and lean legs, my favorite feature of myself. I'm wearing strappy
high-heeled sandals in gold that display my freshly pedicured toes. I'm wearing a gold-beaded
halter top, the front deeps just enough to give an enticing view of my cleavage, the back is bare
with a single sating ribbon tied in a knot. My hair has been washed, dried and styled to fall in a
lovely cascade of red, perfumed with an intoxicating scent that he had once said he liked. I notice
the looks I get from the guys at the party, the flash of lust in their eyes but I don't care
what they think, I care what he thinks.

Like in a muggle movie, the crowd suddenly parts and I see him sitting on a stool by the bar
table. He's sitting with my brother who has just offered him a beer. I love him. I really do. I
know I do. I've loved him even before I met him when his name was as close to an urban legend
as it could be. He's wearing dark jeans that aren't too tight but fit just enough to let
someone know that there aren't skinny appendages there. The way his dark t-shirt fits says the
same thing. He isn't bulky like my brother who is a professional Quidditch player, he's an
Auror, a hero, saving the world one day at a time. His arms are strong and for a moment, I let the
memory of him holding me in them wash over my mind. I want to be held in them again. I want much
more. I want to lie under him, I want to feel every part of his skin against mine, I want to feel
his thigh brush against my bottom as he presses himself inside of me, I want to run my hands along
those arms then have them end up in tangled in his hair.

As I approach, Seamus joins them and says something to make them both laugh. I love his laugh,
his smile. The three of them look over at me as I near them. The look in Harry's eyes is the
same as all the other guys who have looked at me but I cling to the hope that there was something
more. Something more than the natural male appreciation of the opposite sex, something more than
the customary once over that most men do to a woman.

“Hey Ginny,” he says with easy casualness. He is comfortable with my presence, he has known me
since I was a little girl, since that fateful day on the Platform when we saw Ron off on his first
day to Hogwarts.

“Hello Harry,” I reply back. I hope it's as throaty and sultry as I practiced it to be. My
brother catches his attentions back to whatever they had been talking about earlier. I linger,
jumping into the conversation once in awhile to keep Harry aware of my presence. Once in awhile I
shift my stance and my leg brushes against his knee. I revel in the contact. The way I'm
standing by Harry, clearly displays to other interested females to back off. And there are plenty
of them here. They glance over at him, hoping to catch his eye. They live for these parties so they
can go to work Monday morning and say they went to Harry Potter's flat for a party. He shares
it with my brother so they can name drop him as well to impress their co-workers. Whatever.

I lean close to him, my lips nearly brushing his ear as I speak over the music. “There's a
line for the loo, can I use yours?” I ask.

“Yeah, sure, of course.”

I walk up the stairs, past the ladies and gents, my head held high. Some of the young women
quickly turn to their friends to whisper and nod at me. Yes, that is Ginny Weasley, ex-girlfriend
of Harry Potter and yes, I am going into his room. He has altered the wards to let in only those he
gives verbal consent to. No one else can get in if they tried.

His room is dark and I flip on the light to reveal a neat and tidy room, so different from the
slob that my brother is. I walk over to his bed and run my fingers over the dark blue comforter. I
take a dare and lay down on top of it, my head resting on his pillow breathing in his scent. I
close my eyes and imagine he is lying there with me.

I sigh and get up. I use his bathroom, thumb through the products he has in his medicine
cabinet. I take a whiff of his cologne. I love that smell. It's time that I return to the party
downstairs and so I turn off the light and leave.

Upon my approach, the few brave women that have congregated around Harry, Ron and Seamus scatter
and I take my rightful place by Harry's side. I revel and bask in their envious glares. A small
smirk plays at the corner of Harry's mouth and I see Luna Lovegood approaching. I'll let
her in the circle, she isn't after Harry, she's after my brother. I have to wonder
sometimes if it's a fruitless quest. She doesn't seem his type. But Harry greets her kindly
and I know he holds conversation with her partly because he likes to see Ron squirm uncomfortably
was he's around her.

The conversation is pleasant and Harry seems to smile endearingly at Luna as she goes off on a
tangent about some weird creature. Seamus jumps into the conversation and Harry turns his head to
look over the crowd. The front door opens and Terry Boot walks in, followed by some other woman I
don't recognize and then finally Hermione.

The look on Harry's face as he watches her approach is an odd one. It's hard to describe
this look of detached interest. I can only equate it to a muggle show on the television I saw one
night when Ron and I were bored. Harry has the look of a lion watching a gazelle, not yet hungry
enough for the chase but marking where the food is just in case. It's a look he's never
given me so I'm not worried about it. Besides, this is Hermione, his best friend's
ex-girlfriend. That alone puts her in the “Untouchable” category.

They greet her as they normally do, with teases, smiles and hugs. She gives both my brother and
Harry a kiss, a friendly one. I don't mind. She knows who I am to Harry.
“So…Terry, huh?” Seamus asks her as he hands her a shot of Firewhiskey. Hermione takes it and
knocks it back.

“He's just a friend,” Hermione smiles. Terry is a medi-wizard student along with Hermione
studying at St. Mungo's. I know Seamus is teasing her.

“I *knew* he's the reason why you constantly reject my offers for dinner,” he
grins.

“I thought it was because I have better taste,” Hermione flirts back. Ron and Harry mockingly
wince at her words.

“Well, you dated this git over here so the standards can't be *that* high,” Seamus
laughs.

“Hey!” my brother says in protest and Harry and I look at each other and laugh, another example
of our deep connection to each other. Ron leans forward and in a conspiratorial whisper asks, “So,
Terry, huh?”

“Ron,” Harry says in a tone of warning.

This is where Harry's loyalty to my brother falters. He always chases Ron off the topic of
Hermione's love life, respecting her privacy. He is a good friend to her.

Seamus tells Hermione that someone from the ministry is here, I don't recognize the name but
it seems to interest Hermione and she leaves with Seamus for an introduction.

The party continues and I've made my second circuit around the room, mingling and catching
up with old friends. Many of them ask me how Harry is doing, those are usually the ones too shy to
go up to him himself. They look up at me with envy as I tell them he's doing just fine.
It's me they go to when they want to know the latest gossip about him. Our names are always
tied together in the gossip pages, our photographs splash the front cover of magazines. According
to them, we have been engaged several times, eloped twice, there was even a baby watch for a few
months when a rumor was spread that I was pregnant with his child and he was rushing around trying
to make an honest woman out of me. Once in Diagon Alley, I overheard a group of pre-teens who were
clutching the latest copy of one of these magazines.

“Merlin, I wish I were Ginny Weasley,” one of them had said.

“Yeah,” said another, “she's the luckiest girl on the planet.”

Someone is blabbering on about something to me and my mind wanders, my eyes search for Harry and
find him sitting in an armchair. The look in his eyes startles me and excites me at the same time,
awakening something primitive inside of me that causes a warmth to pool between my legs.

He still has the look of that lion watching the gazelle. Only this time, he has decided that he
is hungry and ready for the chase. This gaze is not directed at me, however, it's centered on
another corner of the room.

A bright laugh catches my attention and I see Hermione laughing hard at something someone has
said in the circle she's sitting with. The group is clustered around the coffee table, a large
bottle of Firewhiskey is half-filled and there are shot glasses cluttering the surface. They are
playing some sort of drinking game. Harry's gaze is settled on someone at that table and with a
start of realization I see that it is probably the new girl, sitting next to Hermione that she
brought to the party with her.

Well, she's new so she gets a free pass. But she needs to quickly learn who I am in his life
and that she doesn't stand a chance. The fact that Harry hasn't even been with me in that
intimate way is of no consequence, I'm sure it will happen tonight. I mean, the look he gave me
when he first saw me is a clear indication that he is interested.

I go to his room again to use the loo and on the way back I stall at his closet. I open the
slotted doors and his scent immediate fills my senses. I love his smell. I open my arms and gather
some of his shirts in my arms and bury my nose in them, breathing him in. I picture everyone at the
party leaving and him coming up to his room alone and finding me in his bed with nothing on but one
of his shirts. I get turned on just by the thought of what it will be like to have him take my
virginity. I've been saving it for him and him alone.

I hear footsteps outside of his door and the sound of the knob turning. I have just enough time
to duck into the closet and close it before his bedroom door opens and Hermione walks in. I briefly
wonder what the hell she is doing here before I see her go into his bathroom.

Oh.

A sigh of relief escapes me. But I'm still panicked, what will she say if she caught me in
here? I silently will her to hurry and a surge of joy fills me when I hear the toilet flush and the
running water from the tap. His bedroom door opens and my nerves are on overdrive when I see Harry
walk into the room and close the door behind him. Oh shit! How am I going to explain my little
hiding place now?

The door to his bathroom opens and Hermione steps out. “Harry!!” she says as she jumps. “You
scared me!”

“Sorry,” he replies. He doesn't look the least bit apologetic. In fact, that predatory look
on his face has heightened. He is giving chase, he wants the gazelle.

Hermione backs away from him. “Harry,” she says in a warning.

He lunges for her and she shrieks playfully, jumping up on his bed and running over it to the
other side. She sprints for the door but he catches her by the waist. She's laughing as he
picks her up and she wraps her legs around him. He moves to the door, the nearest wall to them and
he presses her up against it as he kisses her.

I'm in complete and total shock! My mind is refusing to process this strange turn of events,
this fluke. It has completely shut down and I can't even move.

Harry reaches out and turns off the lights. It doesn't help me, the moon is full and shining
brightly through the windows in his room. I can see everything.

Hermione tilts her head as he begins to kiss her neck. I see one of his hands snake up from her
waist to cup one of her breasts. She lets out a soft moan as he squeezes and caresses it. Her arms
wrap around his neck as he sets her feet back down on the floor. The hand that was at her breast
now moves back down her front. She stops him.

“Harry, no,” she coos at him.

“Why not?” he answers.

“Everyone is downstairs.”

He shrugs and kisses her neck. “So?”

“They're going to notice you're missing.”

“And this is a problem, why?” There's a hint of impatience in his voice.

“Harry, it's your birthday party.” They kiss again, a deep slow one.

“I know,” he says against her lips. “And I plan to have my cake and eat it too.”

His hands wander back down and she doesn't fight him this time as he unbuttons her jeans and
unzips them. Hermione bites her lip as his hand disappears inside of them. He uses his thigh to
nudge hers further apart. She lets out a small moan and he swears under his breath. I see his hand
moving rhythmically before he stops and removes it to help tug down her jeans.

“Harry.” Hermione's voice is a strangled whisper.

He kisses her neck, his hands palming her breasts, he leaves a trail of kisses as he sinks to
his knees in front of her. He lifts the hem of her grey tank to place kisses and licks against her
flat belly before heading to the delicate triangle patch of fabric that are her knickers.

Hermione leans back, her head knocking back against the door as her hands tangle in his hair. I
can see one of his hands on her hips, stilling her, keeping her from bucking. I can only imagine
where his other hand is. Her moans become a little more bold and a little more frequent. Harry
moves away from her, still on his knees as she kicks off her sandals and he slides her jeans down
her legs. Hermione claws at his t-shirt, yanking it over his head, taking his glasses with them.
Her hands are on the fly of his jeans and Harry doesn't hesitate to take them off as well. His
boxers drop to the floor but I can only see his backside, his perfectly toned ass.

He's picked up Hermione again and this time he carries her to the bed, a wave of his hand
sends the comforter unfurling and falling off the end of the footboard. His body blocks
Hermione's, I can only see his back, the muscles rippling in the moonlight. She is sitting in
front of him, her legs must be spread because I can see her knees bent on either side of him. I
watch him take off her stupid grey tank and toss it to the side, her bra follows shortly after. He
moves over her, drawing the sheet up behind him as he settles himself between her legs that are
still bent at the knees. I see one hand reach in front of him as he bends down to kiss her. I hear
the distinct sound of fabric ripping.

“Harry!” Hermione scolds, sitting up on her elbows.

“What? I'll buy you a new pair,” he says into her neck. Hermione gentle pushes him back.

“That *was* the pair you bought me from the last time you did that.”

Harry contemplates the flimsy fabric dangling from his fingers. “Oh.”

“I'm going to request something more expensive this time. Maybe that'll deter you.”

Harry lets the torn fabric drop to the floor before returning to Hermione. “La Perla isn't
cheap. I should know better than to buy you something that just drives me mad when I see it on
you.” His voice is rough with lust and unrequited passion. He lowers Hermione back down on the
mattress while at the same time moving one of her legs up, her calf resting on his shoulder.

“Harry.” Hermione's voice has a hint of panic in it. “Harry, be gentle. I'm still sore
from this morniiiiiing!”
The sheet outlines his lower body and I can see one of his legs stretched out while the other is
laying sideways, bent at the knee for leverage. I can see the muscles of his back writhing, his
weight on one arm while the other arm's hand is gripping her hip. My eyes wander to his bum,
covered by the sheet, but I can still see the faintest trace of his muscles contracting there as he
pumps furiously into Hermione. I'm fascinated, horrified and heart-broken all at the same
time.

I've never had sex. But the way he's thrusting into her tells me that he has blatantly
ignored her request to be gentle. But she sounds like she doesn't mind. The headboard has begun
to knock against the wall and between her gasps I hear Hermione say a quick Silencio. The mattress
is still squeaking though and I wonder who else can hear them. Harry seems to not care at the
moment. I want someone to come in and barge in on them, stop them, yell at them. I don't have
the courage to. I'm still in shock. I don't know what I'm feeling.

Hermione looks like a tangle of limbs underneath him. He isn't making gentle love to her
like I've read in those romance novels. This would be what I have overheard my brothers call
“fucking”. Hermione was getting fucked by Harry Potter. He drives into her harder and for a moment
I wonder if he's really hurting her, if she could split in two. Her hands tangle in his hair as
she moans even louder, saying his name. One of her legs drops off of his shoulder and Harry reaches
for it, letting her thigh rest against his hips. He's gripping her thigh so tightly I know
she'll have bruises.

“Oh!” I hear her moan as she moves her hands to splay on his back. “Harry!” she whimpers between
her cries as she grips his back, her nails leaving faint scratches on his skin.

“Hermione.” His voice is guttural even primitive as he gives a particularly rough thrust, a
short pause, another thrust, pause and a final thrust before he collapses on top of her. She
gathers him in her arms, kissing him. They lay there for a moment before his bum lifts slightly off
of her in a soft moan of reluctance then he rolls off of her. I see him, all of him, for just a
moment. The mysterious dark curls covering the sack of flesh underneath, his penis rests on his
skin, wet and glistening before he covers himself with the sheet. His chest is gleaming with sweat
and he mutters “fuck” as he flops on his back, one arm draped over his eyes.

Hermione has covered herself modestly with the sheet and she lays on her side, watching him with
an amused and satisfied look on his face. I hate her. Her hand is playing with his hair and he
moves his arm to look up at her. He smiles and brings her down for a kiss. A hand moves up and
gently tugs on her sheet but Hermione is gripping it tightly. She breaks the kiss and pulls away
from him.

“I don't think so,” she says coyly at him. “I'm lucky if I can still walk.”

“But it's my birthday,” he whines.

Hermione gets off of the bed and pulls on her jeans, sans knickers. “Yes and you've already
had two of your presents this morning.

A dreamy look covers Harry's face. “Ah yes.”

She grins and rolls her eyes. He watches her as she gets dressed, propping himself up on an
elbow, sheet falling at his waist, contentment on his face. Hermione bends down to put on her
sandals and she picks up her ruined knickers. She tosses them to Harry who catches them with his
Seeker reflexes.

“You are such a jerk sometimes,” she sighs.

Harry laughs at her as he examines his own handiwork. “I told you I'd buy you another pair.
I'll buy you a whole drawer full if I get to rip every single one of them off of you.”

“I'm sure you would,” she says as she leans over to give him one more kiss.

“Stay the night,” he says. It's more of an order than a request.

She kisses him one more time and gets off of the bed. She stops at the door and turns around
again. “Oh, I almost forgot.” She reaches in her pocket and pulls out a tiny box. With a tap of her
wand the box enlarges to an 8 by 8 cm cube wrapped in red paper with a gold ribbon. “Happy
Birthday, Harry,” she says as she tosses the box to him.

He catches it and looks up at her. “I love you.” I die.

“Of course you do,” she replies back, blowing him a kiss and slipping out of the door, turning
the lights back on.

Harry looks like a kid at Christmas as he sits up and eagerly unwraps her gift. He lifts the
lid, reaches in and pulls out some ribbon…with a key attached to it. I don't know what it means
but it must mean something to Harry because he thrusts both fists in the air with a triumphant
“YES!!!” before falling backwards on the bed.

He gets up eventually, dresses and leaves the room to join the party downstairs. After a moment,
I finally leave the closet. The air still smells of them and I stare at the unmade bed.

I have to get out of here.

The rest of the party is surreal. Harry and Hermione go about as if nothing had happened between
him. They pull it off flawlessly as if they'd been doing this for quite some time. Maybe they
have. I feel like a complete idiot. Of course he wouldn't want her name splashed over the
magazines like mine is. I should hate him but I don't. I should hate Hermione, but I don't.
Well, maybe sort of. I envy her. This should be my hint to leave them alone, to give up Harry.

But I can't.

I've seen him at his rawest. I've seen the way he has sex and I wonder how many
different ways he makes love to her. I want the same thing. What I have seen only fuels my quest
even more. I want Harry and nothing can stop me.

Hours later, I watch in silence as Hermione makes her way up to Harry's room undetected and
under no one's suspicions. The party is winding down and people are slowly leaving. I'm
sitting in the stool that he was sitting in when I first saw him this evening. He approaches the
bar.

“Did you have fun tonight?” he asks me.

I take in every feature of his face. “I did. Happy Birthday Harry.” I love him. I want him. I
will have him.

“Thanks,” he says genuinely. He reaches for a bottle of Firewhiskey and I breathe in his scent.
He moves away and says a quick goodbye to Lavender and Dean, then waves at everyone else left at
the party before he climbs the stairs. I move out of the stool and watch him. He opens the door to
his room, smiles, and closes the door behind him.

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