Eye For An Eye: Part I: Ron and Hermione
Disclaimer: Characters from the Harry Potter series belong to J.K. Rowling. All original characters belong to ladykyo and the separatesisters.
NOTE: This story will jump around from pov to pov, so I'll let you know whose pov is being used at the start of each new section/ where the povs change.
ladykyo
Chapter 6: Getting to Know You…
Hermione' pov
looking backI should have been worried when the lord of the castle took my bag from me. Any other time I would have been worried, and looking back on that day, I worry over the fact that it didn't worry me at that time. Does that make any sense?
Bother that. I have more to tell.
end looking back
Ronald, the lord of the castle, at least that's how I thought of him, took my bag from me and set it on a shelf high behind him. I looked from my bag to his blue eyes, and I felt an eerie calm settle over my body. The heaviness that had been growing steadily in my chest began to lift, and color seemed to be creeping back into his face.
"Hermione, why don't you tell me about yourself?" Ron asked, looking deep into my eyes. His voice was soft, yet strong. I felt compelled to answer him, although I rarely talked about myself, even to Pia and the other girls. What they knew, what most people knew, were mundane things about me. Yes, Pia and Brenna and Andrea and even Pansy knew a little more, but most of that was what they surmised from the experiences and abilities we shared. The most painful thing was sharing my abilities, how my parents had been grateful for a boarding school that catered to 'special' cases, like me.
"Hm, what would you like to know, Ron?" I asked carefully. True, I wanted to tell him everything, but my sense of self-preservation was finally kicking in: he would only know what he was wise and wily enough to get out of me.
"What is your family like? Do you have brothers, sisters; are you closer to them or your parents? How did you grow up?" Ron asked, his eyes shining as he leaned closer to hear my responses. It was as if he'd never heard of someone else's family before.
"No other kids in my family, unfortunately. I'm the only child of only children. Both of my parents were born to older couples, so my grandparents are dead," I said, and his face fell. "What about you?"
"I thought I was learning about you, darling," Ron chuckled. I blushed at the endearment and stifled the urge to smack him for the impudence. Instead, I laughed along with him.
"As the Americans say, 'I'll show you mine if you show me yours'; I told you something, so now you should tell me something," I laughed; something sparked in his eyes as I mentioned the Americans. He must never have traveled outside the UK.
"Fine, you little minx," he said, and I blushed even harder. "I had seven brothers and one sister. My seven brothers were older, my sister was younger. My parents died when I was young. After they died, the two brothers closest in age to me raised me and my sister. It wasn't long before they left as well, and I raised Gin on my own."
"Had seven brothers and one sister? Did you have a falling out? Surely things were hard after your parents died, but that is the kind of thing that should have brought you closer together, not torn you apart. Do you ever try to contact them, get back in touch, repair your broken ties?" Ron's eyes had clouded over with an emotion I couldn't quite name, and suddenly I wanted to right the world so he'd never look like that again.
Ron's eyes flared at my suggestions, and I found myself pinned down into my chair. He was leaning over me, leaning into me, and I was afraid. He was like a wolf, hunting down his first meal in weeks. I closed my eyes, but suddenly I felt strength inside me, like the first time I met Pia and the others. I forced my eyes open and glared right back at him. If he wanted a fight, he was going to get one. I focused my telepathy and waited for him to strike first.
He leaned down even closer, and I thought he was going to snarl or growl, but he pressed his lips to mine and probed softly with his tongue, softly at first, but as I resisted, he became more insistent, pushing harder until I gasped with the force of his mouth on mine. He seized the opening and pushed his tongue into my mouth, searching out my tongue. He wrestled me for a while, and soon I was giving as good as he was. Rain began to pour outside, perfect Ireland weather, and as thunder was beginning to strike, he started to pull his mouth from my own. In annoyance, I nipped his tongue with my small front teeth.
"Ah, my little minx bites, does she?" he breathed in his sexy brogue. He stood away from me, leaving me to rearrange my casual robes. I turned to allow him to do the same, but when I turned back to him, he was standing at the window, having done nothing to hide his condition, staring out into the brightly lit night, his rather large erection straining against the thin fabric of his trousers.
I frowned at him, then turned my attention to my bag, still high on the shelf where'd he'd put it. I turned my frown to my bag, and carefully brought it down to my waiting arms.
"I don't think I'll bother you anymore, Ronald what is your last name?" my curiosity got the better of me, and now I couldn't just leave in a huff. My exit was screwed. I was pissed, though.
"I used to be called Ronald, son of Artur. He died, and I just became Ronald. And you can't leave, not now at least. I hope you don't have to work tomorrow, because I doubt you'll be able to get out then, either."
"Whatever do you mean?" I trotted over to the window and looked out to where Ron was looking. I sagged when I saw what he meant: I'd not taken my broom to get to the castle; I'd gotten a ride to a place near the castle, then walked the rest of the way. There was no road where there had been one before, it had been washed away in the downpour. "The road's out," I said lamely.
"You'll have to stay here tonight. I've no broom for you to use, and you can't cross a road under water. Even if you could get to the place where you were dropped off, the other roads are surely under water.
I glared at him hotly. "You're a weasel, you know that? You probably knew that it was going to rain when you saw me sleeping and when you kissed me. You didn't kick me out because you wanted to trap me here with you! You're more than a weasel you're the Weasel King!"
Ron's pov
I tried not to laugh when she got mad at me. Really, you must believe me, I tried. But her chest heaved, and I already knew that she was made for me. All the years, the few women I'd had, they all fell away when I kissed her. Add that to the way her eyes sparked when she got mad, and I had to laugh.
"That's right, love, I'm the Weasel King. Ron Weasley, that's me," I smiled, looking into her eyes. That would work as a surname. I would add myself to the wizard and muggle registries as Ron Weasley, and make my life. I had my soul within my reach, but I had to have her love before I took back my soul. She would be inexplicably linked to me forever, and I was already in love with her. She would love me, be in love with me. I would settle for nothing less. I put some force behind my words, and her eyes glazed over for a moment.
"Weasley. What a simple last name. I can't believe I forgot it so quickly. Usually I'm good with names just don't ask me to match them all up with the right people!" Hermione laughed, a great belly laugh, and I felt her begin to soften towards me. The kiss had told me much, but I needed her to tell me the rest. "Is there a room I can stay in? I heard the place is haunted will the ghosts bother me?"
The firebrand was playing with me! Her eyes danced, and I wondered if I had put too much behind my words earlier. I smiled at her and barely contained myself. I wanted her, wanted to kiss her clothes off and bury myself in her. But I had to wait, feel her out, make sure she was ready for what I was.
The last thought sobered me. In the last few centuries, Harold and I had taken on some abilities that could be frightening, especially to a bed-mate: we could change our shapes, becoming wolf-like creatures, and as such, we had different urges with women and could not always control the beast when we were with women. At least, I couldn't. Harold had not been with any woman, not since Gin. She was his one and only. I turned to Hermione and grinned evilly.
"I don't think it's the ghosts you should be worried about."