Greed by cosmopolitan411

Rating: PG13
Genres: Romance
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 7
Published: 04/03/2008
Last Updated: 04/03/2008
Status: Completed

greed: (grēd) n. An excessive desire to acquire or possess more than what one needs or deserves,
especially with respect to material wealth




1. one-shot
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**Disclaimer:** *dude… enough said…*

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**Greed**

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**Summary:** *he was indestructible—or so at least he thought he was, all up until that one
penultimate moment where she left.*

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*Not always sure what things called sins may be,
I am sure of one sin I have done.*

*- Robert P. Tristram Coffin*

--

People had always called me selfless—a hero, and in many ways I had been only too glad to fully
embrace that role, taking it upon myself with as much fervor as I could. It was an easy one to take
on, one that I wasn't particularly proud of having so easily embraced, but I liked it—it was
safe. For once, I felt assured that no matter what went wrong I had that safety net that I could
always rely on.

I hadn't always been like that; I had once been just a shy, humble, *simple* bloke.
Back then I just wanted to do what I could to save those that had been kind enough to find a way to
love me like no one ever had before. Sadly, however, I found that that charmingly modest guy
seemingly disappeared after the war, even after that, though, people didn't seem to notice.

I didn't realize what was happening to me, who I was becoming, all I knew was that I was
indestructible, and I liked it.

--

*“**H**ey you, haven't seen you in quite a while,” he greeted her with a grin as
he took a seat by her at the table, joining her in watching the Ron and Luna make their way around
the dance floor in their newlywed state of “eternal” bliss**—**the one that, Harry noted,
miraculo**usly left* *with the end of the honeymoon.*

*“Hi,” she monotonously said, never taking her eyes off the couple to even so much as look at
him, something that bothered him more than he'd ever care to admit.*

*“They look happy.”*

*She sighed.* *“**P**lease don't say that joke about the honeymoon again,
I've heard it* *way* *too many times,* *really,* *far too many people*
*repeat that one**,” she told him, rolling her eyes as she spoke.*

*Harry grinned. “People* *were repeating it?**”*

*She* *finally turned to hi**m with a tired look, one of so* *much aggravation
and annoyance—one that he hadn't ever seen on her face, even when she had to help a useless Ron
and him with homework back in Hogwarts.* *It was shocking and rather disturbing, to say the
least.* *“Yes, congratulations**,* *Harry,” she sarcastically quipped before
getting* *up* *off the chair and heading off towards the gardens, leaving a baffled Harry
in her wake.*

--

It started out that way, her slowly becoming more and more aggravated by me, fully dismissing me
more often than not. It all left me utterly befuddled, where was the Hermione that I knew and
loved—the one that would stand by my side regardless of whatever happened? Where had that loyalty
gone?

--

*“**H**ow long do you plan on just going on like this?” he yelled after her as he
joined her in the garden where she was just blankly staring at the stars, totally ignoring the
entire wedding party and the loud celebration going on behind her.*

*“And what am I doing that's so horrible?” she asked, cocking an eyebrow at him, almost
challenging him with that single, simple, action.*

*“Why can't you just be happy for them? What's the point in staring at them with that
bloody**,* *pathetic**,* *forlorn look on your face?!**”*

*Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion as she regarded him with a look of total,
uncharacteristic, puzzlement. “Pardon me,* *but* *who the* **hell** *do you think
you are to say that to me you bloody arse?!”*

*“**O**h don't act as if it's not true Hermione, look at* *you, staring
at them like that;* *you look like a spiteful hag that's going to grow to be a forty year
old virgin with only twenty cats to keep her company.”*

*She slapped him, an action that took them both by surprise**—she was never a
particularly violent person, ever, a fact that only amplified the fact that she had just hit
him**.* *“Where do you get off saying things like that to me, as if you know anything
about me?”* *she spat at him angrily.*

*“I'm your best friend Hermione-”*

*A**t those words, however, she let out a loud scoff followed by a rather unladylike
snort—one that she didn't appear to be the slightest bit ashamed of in her spiteful
state.*

*“What the bloody hell is that supposed to mean?”*

*“***We're** *best friends?” she asked him with a look of total disbelief, her
words dripping with doubt.*

*“Yes, we are;* *what do you mean with that comment,* *anyway?” he huffily asked
her.*

*She shook her head slightly, chuckling to herself spitefully. “**We* *are*
**not** *friends; in fact, I would* **never** *allow myself to be mates with someone
like you.”*

*“Really? So I take it that that selective memory of yours somehow made you forget the fact
that we've been mates since we were eleven,” he sarcastically quipped, trying to ignore the
growing stab of pain in his heart as the weight of her words hit him full force.*

*“***No***, no, I haven't forgotten that, but I'm not about to delude myself
into thinking that you and that boy who I would have done anything for are the same person—I
won't lie to myself like that, I'll leave that one for everyone else,” she shrieked, before
turning around and stalking further into the garden, anything to get away from him.*

*He ran after her, grabbing her arm to pull her back to him and force her to look at him,
he'd be damned if he let her have the last word again. “What is that supposed to mean?” he
growled.*

*“Look at yourself* **Potter***,**”* *she spat at him**, her tone
almost acidic as she spoke.*

*He winced at that one word; the fact that she* *had* *actually* *call**ed
him by his surname scared him. S**he'd never believed in that sort of a
thing**—**said it was far too cold to ever be deemed a dignified thing to refer to
someone by unless they were a teacher, where she only did it because it was accepted, and that
little “professor” before the name always helped ease her nerves about it. In fact, what scared him
most was that dreadful knowledge that the only people she* *had ever* *referred to by
their last names were Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle—and maybe a few* *other* *people that had
referred to her as a mudblood over the years. The fact that he was now on the same level as them in
her eyes* *terrified* *him* *more so than hecared to admit… to anyone, much less so
himself**.*

*That fact, however, didn't* *translate so well in* *his response when he
hostilely asked “what about me?”*

*“You've become nothing more than a narcissistic pillock who cares for nothing more than
his pretty little face and name, and what it can get him next. You've become a greedy bastard
who'll never find anyone good enough, anyone that you'll love enough to consider to be at
the same level as the one that you hold yourself at!” she yelled at him, shocking him by how she
could say that all in one breath without even breaking a sweat.*

*“That's not fair,” he dangerously whispered as his grip on her arm tightened.*

*“No, it's not fair that I have to watch someone that I once loved become*
**this***,” she sneered as she wrenched her arm away from his and disapparated.*

--

It was just so easy to take on that title as the boy who had not only lived, but conquered.

It was so easy to become that image of who everyone thought he was—the hero.

After the war I had found myself lost, I didn't know who I was, what I was, or where to go
anymore—in so many ways that entire ordeal defined not only who I was, but where I was going. It
gave me purpose; it was always that elusive goal that I was fighting for my entire life, but when
it all ended I found that I didn't know what came next, *where* to go.

It was just *so* much easier to be what they wanted, who they wanted—it gave me some
direction in the abyss of copious daunting opportunities and choices that I had found myself
accosted by. What I didn't expect, however, was how much I'd enjoy it. Living it up, being
a kid in an adult's body—who also, admittedly, did some things that a kid should really just
never do…

--

*H**e didn't talk to her for a month after wedding, having decided to let her cool
down for two days or so after the argument**.* *He* *had been* *shocked**,
however,* *to find what a grave mistake he had made by doing so when he learned that she had
left for a business trip of some sorts to Chernobyl* *to open up a recently f**unded
orphanage.*

*“Why are you here?” she tiredly asked him when she walked up to the door to her townhouse
only to see him leaning against the door.*

*“I convinced your secretary to tell me when you'd be back,” he sheepishly admitted with a
grin.*

*She rolled her eyes with a distinct look of disdain. “Figures, Harry Potter uses his name*
*yet* *again to get what he wants—or, wait, was it your manly wiles this time?”*

*He held back whatever retort he may have had,* *knowing that* *he was no match for
Hermione's temper—his ego could admit that much at least, especially when acknowledging the
fact that “little Harry” would undoubtedly be injured in any fight against her. She always was a
spit fire.*

*“It was a mix of both,”* *he sheepishly admitted.*

*She didn't say anything,* *merely bypassing* *him and* *unlocking*
*the door, letting herself in as she left* *it* *open for him to follow—leaving it*
*totally* *up to him**.* *The fact that she didn't even care to look back to
see whether or not he had followed hurt him more than he could imagine**.*

*She didn't care whether he came or went, not anymore.*

*“**W**hat you said, at the wedding,* *what did you mean* *by
that**?” he aske**d her as he watched her ignore* *him* *while* *she*
*unpacked her* *suitcase and* *placed her things* *in their respective
places.*

*“I meant what I said,” she monotonously responded.*

*It was a short and cutting reply that didn't do much to soothe his ego or growing
aggravation over her accusation.* *“And w**hat the hell is that Hermione? I mean
w**ho are* *you* *to judge me like that?” he asked her, the* *provocation*
*in his tone betraying the whole* *`**calm, collected, and reserved**'*
*persona he'd been hoping to achieve.*

*“I'm the only person that has the guts to tell you—I'm the only person who sees who
you've become,” she told him* *with a noticeable connotation of bitterness and
grief.*

*He scoffed. “And what is it that I've become?”*

*She sighed as she stopped fiddling with her suitcase**, instead opting to take a
seat* *on her bed, cradling her head in her hands as she massaged her temples. “Why does it
matter anymore?”*

*“You're not a bloody bint or anything Hermione; you very well know why it
matters.”*

*“No,” she admitted with a frown. “I don't, not anymore.”*

*He paused, unsure as to what to say in response to such a defeated comment, something that he
had never expected to hear from her. He took a seat on the bed next to her, both staring at the TV
in front of them, looking at their reflection as they analyzed the other, neither wanting to look
the other in the eye, yet neither could help but give into their curiosity in some form or
another.*

*“Do you really think I've changed?” he asked her quietly.*

*“You mean apart from the fact that you act like a total tosser?”*

*A small smile tugged on his lips slightly as he heard that response,* **classic**
**Hermione***. “Why don't you consider us mates anymore?”*

*“I can't be that for you anymore Harry; too much time has gone by, too much has
changed.”*

*“So that's it, you give up, just like that?”*

*“No, I let go. You should leave Harry.”*

*“Bu-”*

*“Please, just go,” she told him, her eyes pleading, the one thing that he had always been*
*his weak point. Those bloody eyes—Merlin, they were the most expressive curse he had ever come
across.*

*“I never wanted to hurt you,” he told her, kissing her forehead before disapparating.*

*She stood stoically, rooted in her place, as she stared at the place where he had just been
before letting out a chocked and tearful “I know.”*

--

Admittedly Ginny had loved me for being “the boy who lived,” and she was the one that helped me
embrace the lifestyle that came with that title, but, with time, I had found that it wasn't too
bad of a life to lead. It kept my mind off of what came next, work wise—*life* wise, and it
was fun, I was finally enjoying life, living it to the fullest just as everyone had said I deserved
to.

--

*“Stop following me,” she sternly ordered him when he showed up at her office a week
later.*

*“I thought that you of all people would respect my perseverance and tenacity Hermione,” he
retorted with a distinct bite to his words.*

*“Not when it's just because you're a greedy bastard,” she bluntly told him.*

*His eyebrows shot up at the shock of hearing what she had so tactlessly admitted to him.
“What's that supposed to mean?!”*

*“It means exactly what I've been telling you for the past year Harry, what you've
only started to pay an ink**l**ing of attention to a month ago.”*

*He let out a groan, it was* **always** *the same thing with her, she never let
anything go. “Well**,* *obviously**,* *you haven't made it clear enough for
me to understand!”*

*“Or you're just too thickheaded to try**.* *I'm* **done** *Harry, I
won't be the one to explain it to* *you**, far too much energy has been wasted on
you—it's a hopeless cause and I've come to terms with that, this is me letting go, allow me
to do* *t**hat much**,* *at least.”*

*Next thing he knew she was slamming the door to her office in his face.*

*And she even managed to break his nose in the process—she always was a spitfire.*

--

There was a time when my life was easy, when I had a plan. I had been so sure that after the war
the world would be my playground—or whatever other cliché applied—but it wasn't like that.
Instead life went, death came, and depression soon followed.

After the war, it was all supposed to be better, but somehow, for me, everything was even more
mucked up than ever before. Watching how many deaths had to be commemorated, how many people had
lost a loved one—it all made him sick, it made me feel guilty, yet somehow, despite it all, I was
still a hero.

And that persona… that one was a far simpler one to take on, it came with far less guilt
attached to it, it was easier to live with on a daily basis… and I—I just wanted easy for once in
my life.

I just never expected easy to be so damn destructive.

--

*“**Y**ou know what, I tried, I* **really** *tried to be the understanding
comrade* *who* *listens to what you have to say because you've always been honest
with me, but who the bloody hell are you to make heinous accusations like those?!” he*
*asked* *with a glare* *as* *he approached her at her apartment the next morning,
when he was sure her wards—both physical and mental—would be down.*

*“Who the hell have you become?” she retorted, challenging him as she stood her ground before
him, staring him straight in the eyes. “The Harry* **I** *knew would never have been
attracted* *to all this nonsense. In fact,* *the Harry I knew—the* *Harry that*
*I loved**—**would have been disgusted by all* *of* *these*
*`***posh***'* *distractions-”*

*“I'd say that they're a hell of a lot more than just distract-”*

*“***No***, no they're not. You know there was a time when I would have said that
you deserved it all, everything that the world had to offer**,* *but if* **this**
*is what you want—if* **this** *is who that turns you into, then you're a far weaker
man than I ever realized.”*

*“That's not fair; you can't just go around acting all holier than thou, not after
everything I've gone through.* *I deserve some peace, some fun,”* *he
defended.*

*“But when does it end Harry?**” she asked him desperately.* *“**All of it—the
favors, the tickets to whatever game or show you want to see,* **all** *of it—is there a
limit, a point**,* *at which the self-serving prat in you is finally sated?”*

*It was at that moment that, for the first time, he realized what a sad thing it was to
finally lose. He sighed dejectedly as he turned to walk down the steps. As he reached the last
step, however, he turned to Hermione, who was staring at him in confusion—struck by the fact that
he had given up so easily.* *“That's all I'm trying to get—to* **feel***. All
I want is to be sated… to feel whole,” he told her before* *turning back to
leave**.*

--

I'd like to say that it was just about wanting life to finally be easy—to finally be
*more*, but, ultimately, it wasn't like that.

In the beginning it had started off as just a search—a desperate, feeble attempt to find myself
amidst all the chaos and loss that came with the end of the war. In the end, however, it was just
*fun*, and it was easy—it was everything that I had ever hoped for.

What I didn't expect, though, was the possibility that it might not be enough. That thought
never actually crossed my mind until that moment.

--

*When she walked into the Three B**roomsticks and took his drink from him, chugging the
entire glass of fire whiskey—much to his, understandable, astonishment, he realized that that was
the first time in a year and a half that she had actually sought him out. When struck by the
unsettling cognizance he couldn't help but wonder how they'd gotten there. How had it come
to the point that they only ever really spoke to one another when at the, albeit frequent,
soci**al gatherings put on by friends?*

*And**,* *more importantly, how had he not realized it sooner?*

*They sat in an awkward silence until she finally broke it. “You want hear a funny story?” she
asked.*

*He turned to her, finally looking at her—***really** *looking at her. He noticed how
her hands were trembling, how she was a biting on her lip nervously, how she held onto her glass
with a vice grip that, honestly, frightened him.*

*She was scared.*

*He smiled at her warmly, hoping to ease her nerves a bit—it really didn't help if the
person with the power in the situation was anxious as well.* *“Sure**, I'm always up
for a good laugh.”*

*“I don't know why I took your drink from you like that—I mean, usually, I have at least
enough patience to wait for the bartender to make me a new one. But**…* *with you— with
you, I don't know, I'm pretty sure with you it's different because I have to have a
drink in my hand… it probably has to do with the fact that alcohol tends to make me forget that
you're an arse… And that I was in love with you anyway.”*

*He chocked slightly—a rather pathetic phenomenon given that he wasn't easting or drinking
anything at the times. “Pardon?”*

*“I was in love with you,” she slowly repeated, desperately avoiding his eyes as she made the
admission. “**It* *was all rather pathetic actually, but I loved you nonetheless,”*
*she admitted with a sad—forced—**smile, all the while appearing as if she was going to
b**urst out in tears in any moment. It was* *a picture that pulled on his heartstrings
with vehemence.*

*She shook her head slightly. “Don't—don't look at me like that. I was okay with the
fact that you didn't hold me in the same regard; I'd really* *come* *to terms
with that fact* *actually**. But watching you become* **this***—I just
couldn't stand for that, it was disgusting. For three years I watched that greed manifest and
it killed me more with each day. You wanted it all and held absolutely no respect for any of it
anymore.”*

*She let out a sigh, keeping her eyes trained on the bar as she fiddled with her glass
anxiously. “I fell out of love with you two and a half years ago because of that, and then, one and
a half years later, I couldn't even bear to be around you anymore. So* **there***,
that's why—that's why I said what I said.”*

*“I'm sorry,” he told her**,* *for lack of anything better to say to that
profound admission.*

*“It's okay.”*

*“Is it…* **really***?”*

*She let out a deep breath, pausing before shaking her head. “No, not really; I just really
want it to be,” her voice broke slightly as she told him so, giving him a sad feeble smile as she
spoke.*

*“It's all just become so discombobulated, hasn't it?”*

*She chuckled lightly at hearing the deep description Harry gave their relationship. “That
about sums it up… Harry, this is going to have to be goodbye for me. I just… I want it—I*
**need** *it to end on a good note for us, and given the way that everything's been
happening I think that this is the only way I can leave with memories of the good. Too many bad
things have transpired between us for the past three years for us to just keep on going like this—I
want this to be the out, the last memory, a good one to commemorate our friendship,” she told him
clapping a dumbfounded Harry on the back as she left. And he—he was in too great of a state of
shock to even have* *a* *chance* *to protest.*

--

There was a time when she called me a narcissistic pillock just for the fun of it. It was a
light teasing that I had always adored, but never actually acknowledged because, honestly, it takes
all the fun of it when you admit to enjoying it. And so, I secretly relished those moments, taking
a particular joy in the fact that she was comfortable enough around me to show that side of herself
that so rarely ever came out. That ended, however, three years ago when Ginny told her that it was
horribly rude and she didn't know why she had let it go on for so long.

I didn't argue.

I think that's the exact moment where it all really started to go down hill. It's always
the little things, isn't it?

--

*“Harry, what are you doing here?” she tiredly asked him when she came home to find him pacing
in front of the doorway* *of* *her townhouse.*

*“I didn't want it all before,” he tactlessly blurted out.*

*She nodded as she slowly walked up the steps until she was standing in front of Harry. “I
know.”*

*“I just wanted someone—to have someone love me, but then… I don't know-”*

*“It's easy to get sucked into that world,” she finished for him.*

*“But it's not just that**, is it? I**n the end none of it was even worth it. I
was left with a girl who loved my name and what came with it more than me, and I lost the only
person who cared enough about me to tell me what a narcissistic arse I was acting like.”*

*“I believe that my exact words were narcissistic* **pillock***,” she corrected him
with a small smile.*

*He chuckled. “Of course, how could I forget?”*

*They stood in a comfortable silence, each staring at—***evaluating** *the other, both
trying to figure out what was going through the other's mind, until* *Hermione finally
interrupted it. “D**o you want to come in?”*

*“S**an we just stay out here for a while—this is the first time we've really talked
in quite a while so I ra**ther like this spot right now… P**lus, that huge house of yours
is overflowing with books so it's a pretty dangerous place for me to be in**… you
know,* *given your violent nature* *and all**,” he added with a small grin.*

*She* *smiled, nodding slowly**. “Sure.”*

*They both seated themselves on opposite sides of the door, leaning on the wall as they
watched the people walk by, each finding it easier to focus their attention on anything but the
other.*

*“I was never in love with you… I mean, I did love you, but-”*

*“I know,” she said, effectively silencing him. “It's sort of the curse of being the
female best mate anyway. It's okay… really,” she added under the pressure of his doubting
look.*

*“After you said those things, three days ago, I couldn't get them out of mind. The scene
was just constantly replaying in my mind over and over again, it was as if it was somehow lodged in
there and just wouldn't let me be. But… I guess it helped me realize that I don't want to
be that bloke… I want to be someone that's worthy of you.”*

*He let out a nervous breath as he ran a hand through his hairs in an attempt to soothe his
nerves with some—***any** *distraction. “You're the only person I know that doesn't
see me as Harry Potter, you see me as the annoying wanker who can't get his head out of his
arse, and,* *as* *pathetic as it may be, I appreciate it. Even if I don't like
admitting to the fact that you may be right,” he admitted with a s**heepish grin. “You're
outspoken* *and scary with that brilliance of yours—and don't even get me started on how
hot you look in your sexy little healer outfits.”*

*She sighed, rubbing her temples as she bit back a groan. “Harry, I stopped feeling that way
for you* **long** *time ago, I've let go, I-”*

*“I know,” he roughly int**errupted her. “But—I don't know…* *I was hoping that
maybe**,* *for once**,* *I could do something right with us—**that*
*maybe we could use that to our advantage. I wasn't ready for you before**,*
*Hermione, I wasn't a bloke that deserved you, I would have mucked it all up anyway. Maybe
what we* *really* *nee**de**d* *was* *this, a clean slate through
which we* *could* *get to know one another again.”*

*She nodded slowly.* *“Where did all of this come from?”*

*He smiled as he turned his head to her so he was finally looking at her. He placed a finger
under her chin and turned her head so she was looking at him as well before scooting closer to her
so the door was no longer acting as an invisible barrier between the two. “You're a
spitfire**,* *Hermione,* *and* *that's all I've ever
wanted—***needed***.”*

*He leaned in hesitantly, but* *upon* *noticing that there was no sign of protest on
her part he finally took the initiative and leaned down, capturing her lips with his own. She
stiffened at first, obviously surprised by the action, even if he had—albeit silently—made his
inte**ntions very clear.* *S**oon* *there after, though,* *she*
*allowed herself to relax**, responding to the kiss with an intense passion. When they
finally pulled apart Hermione looked up at him with a quizzical look for a moment, rendered totally
speechless.*

*Given that it was Hermione, however, that state of mind didn't last very long. “You
can't have everything**,* *Harry, not with me. I can't be with a person like
that. I mean, opposites attract, sure, but I've never gone for the self-serving prats of the
world.”*

*He nodded with a small smile. “That's okay; all I want is you anyway.”*

*“***Good***, and it better stay that way,”* *she told him, grabbing the lapels
of his leather jacket to pull him towards her before crashing her lips upon his.*

*He pulled away with a* *smile**, gently brushing his thumb against her cheek as he
spoke.* *“For so long as you want it to lo**ve, that much I can promise you,**”*
*he told her before bringing her in for another kiss.*

*When they pulled apart for the second time he was wearing another one of those insufferable
smirks, an expression that quickly caused her to groan.*

*He chuckled lightly, bringing a hand to her fa**ce as he caressed it lightly. “besides,
you d**on't* *have to* *worry**, love, if* *I ever do act like a
wanker you have full permission to hex me.”*

*She scoffed. “As if I ever needed your permission for that one.”*

**Fin.**

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