Disclaimer: Nope, not mine. I'd never pair Hermione and Ron together, you know that.
A/N: My reply to the "You've corrupted your purpose" challenge by Detritus, you can find it here:
http://talk.portkey.org/index.php?showtopic=26319 . Hope you'll enjoy it and as usual if you read, review and let me know what you think of it. It is an HP/PoTC crossover.
Thanks to my beta Gingercat!
Corrupted
Chapter One: The Heart's Out!
Harry was rooted to the spot. Hermione had just thrown the valuable Basilisk fangs away, rushed to Ron, jumped on him and planted a very through kiss on his lips.
He couldn't believe it.
Ron, of course, having fancied Hermione for two years at least, kissed her back just as fiercely, and second after second Harry felt something stir inside him. It was anger, but he would not express it there.
"Hey! We've got a battle to attend!" he shouted then with a fake smile on his lips, trying to conceal his heartbreak, and walked out of the room.
As he was alone, knowing they wouldn't follow for a few moments, he smashed his fist on the wall, effectively breaking several bones in his hand. He didn't care, and with a flick of his wand he healed himself, before aiming it at the closest armour and sending it flying through the corridor against the opposite wall.
The loud noise startled Hermione, who had just opened the door of the room they were in previously, so she hadn't noticed Harry being the cause of it.
"What caused that?"
"Dunno" Harry shrugged, and resumed walking, inwardly brooding. He knew there was something far more important he needed to focus on, so he pushed any feeling he once had, or still had for Hermione out of his mind, and braced himself for confronting Voldemort.
Which he did, when the moment came and after faking his death and getting rid of the Horcrux within his scar in the process, with the help of the Elder Wand.
When it was done, Harry thought that it had been way too anticlimactic. Seven years of struggle between him and Voldemort, caused by the prophecy made by Professor Trewlaney, plus the encounter when he was only a baby that cost him the lives of his parents, and all he had to do to win was become the master of the wand wrestling Malfoy's one out of his grasp and thus defeating the previous master?
He almost laughed bitterly, but he knew he would have to explain if he did, and he wasn't in the mood for that.
Instead, he set for a long walk on the grounds, alone.
As he closed his eyes, the images of Hermione launching herself at Ron and kissing him passionately played over and over in his head, making him more and more angered. He had lost his parents, his godfather, his mentor, countless others in the last battle, including Tonks, Lupin and Fred, didn't he deserve some happiness? Didn't he deserve someone to love him, truly love him and not the hero he represented, which was the case with Ginny?
Yes, he deserved it, he was much more worthy of her love than Ron, he was sure of that. What had the redhead overcome in his life? He still hadn't even come to terms with his jealousy over Harry's money and fame, as if he had ever liked any of it.
He snorted. And yet, Ron was his best friend, and he knew he would never be able to steal Hermione from him and not feel guilty.
The amount of pain welling up inside him was constantly growing now. He was on the borders of the Forbidden Forest, which stared back at him gloomily, enveloped in darkness as it was at that hour of the day.
He knew he wouldn't be able to live with such an amount of pain, and yet he was alive still, right? He hadn't died because of it, not yet at least.
Raising his wand, pointing it at his own chest, he closed his eyes, and decided the best course of action was to remove the source of such pain. After all, he had done what had been asked of him. He had killed Voldemort and freed the Wizarding World from the huge threat, now they could go on without him.
"Diffindo!" he cried, and blood spurted from the gash he had opened. Another couple cutting charms and then he put his wand back in his pocket, and with trepidation he grabbed his still beating heart with his right hand, and extracted it from his chest.
His relief was immediate. The pain lessened considerably, till it wasn't much more than a background dull feeling where his heart should have been. He reckoned he could live with that.
The anger, on the other hand, didn't diminish. If possible, it even grew bigger.
It was this way, with his thumping, bloody heart in his right hand although he had passed out, that they found him a couple hours later. Hermione had immediately alerted the Headmistress, and Harry was transferred to St. Mungo's.
Isolated in a room, he could hear the Healers talking just outside. How was it possible that he was still alive hours after his heart had been taken out of his chest? By any means, he should be dead, he knew it, and hearing those supposedly experts debate about his condition wasn't exactly what he found most entertaining at the moment.
He suspected it was his magic that somehow had kept him alive, and he didn't even know how long it would do so. It had been five hours since he had woken up in the hospital, and he wouldn't stay there long.
From the window he realized it must be almost night. And at night there was less personnel in the hospital. His escape would be easier then.
He willed himself to be patient for a few more hours, and started planning how to get out of there.
His heart was still there in the room, under a glass bell, still beating. He smiled at it, and began thinking where he would keep it safe. A glass bell wouldn't do. He needed a chest, something lockable.
He guessed there might be something of the sort at Grimmauld Place, maybe hidden in some room by Kreacher as a valuable Black heirloom.
Developing his plan in the details took him some time, and when he was finished he couldn't hear noises from outside his door. Darkness enveloped the building, so Harry slipped out of bed, realizing for the first time that his chest had been wrapped in white bandages, by now made bloody by the wound on his chest. Somehow, the bleeding had been stopped though.
"At least those worthless Healers did something useful" he sneered, as he grabbed the glass bell containing his heart, pushed the window open, and jumped out into the black night.
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