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 10: … Bind Me to You.

Hermione's pov

I woke up late in the day, and when I did, I was sore. I heard soft snoring next to me, and I lifted my head enough to see Ron's head cradled on my stomach. I dropped my head back down on the silky pillow and thought about what had transpired between the two of us.

Okay, here's what I know, I think: one, I just slept with a man I've known for oh, two days; two I lost my virginity to said man; three, if what he said is true, then he is fifteen some hundred years old and has made a pact with a Celtic god which resulted, in some way to my birth, powers, and the heaviness. But I'm not the only one. What does that say about the rest of my sisterhood?

"Are we all tied to you or others like you, my love?" I asked softly, trying not to actually disturb Ron.

"Ayuview," he murmured into the bottom of my breasts.

"What? Are you awake?" I said, starting to laugh. Ron picked his head up, and his rumpled hair made me melt. I smiled at him, and he gave me a dopey smile right back. I hope I don't look like that. All satisfied, like the cat who got the cream.

"I love you. I love you, Hermione. And I heard you call me 'my love'. Now I've got you, and I'm not letting you go," Ron squeezed tight around my waist, and I thought I saw tears in his eyes briefly.

"Ron, are there others like you? Because if what you say is true, and these powers and that particular heaviness earmarked me for you, then I know where to find the other soulmates. Some of the girls I went to school fit those criteria," I said, sitting up as Ron lifted his weight off of my stomach.

"Hermione, yes, there are others like me, but I don't necessarily know where to find them, and save for one or two of them, I don't even know who they are. Even if I did, you must know that we are not all from the same places or times: I'm a Celt, and Harold, who was like a brother to me, is also a Celt. But Draconus, another one like me, is from the same time but is a Roman. If I could manage to track him down, he would probably not even listen to me. And I wouldn't know which of your friends would hold Draconus's soul; as for Harold, I think his soul was already gone when we bargained with Scáthach. But for right now, let's enjoy being together, and forget about the rest, hmm?" Ron said tiredly.

"I need to get up now, Ron. It's rather late in the day now, and I haven't had anything to eat. You need to eat as well, and I want some time to digest everything," I spoke quietly as I grabbed what was left of my clothing. I looked at the shredded mess and opted for one of Ron's robes. It was bulky for silk, but it was simple and it covered me, and that was all I cared about at that point.

Ron sat up in the bed and watched me as I let myself out of the room. Part of me wanted to stay and cuddle, but I needed time to think, and Ron needed time to figure out what to say to me.

Ron's pov

After she gathered herself into one of my robes, Hermione padded out of the room without looking back at me. Why didn't she stay with me? I would have gone and gotten her food, and we could have spent the rest of the day and the encroaching night in our bed, talking and planning and exploring each other.

I got out of bed and ransacked my drawers and closet for another robe or perhaps some pajamas. Granted, I don't usually wear pajamas, but I don't typically have guests. I assume that Hermione will expect me to be at least partially clothed, and I don't know that she'd appreciate how much I appreciate her right now, if you know what I mean.

I gathered some clothing and hit the shower, wondering about how I would talk to her about all these things. I had already told her about the main thread of this drama: my soul for relative immortality and the ability to avenge my family and people. I didn't want to talk about the other men fooled by Scáthach and the Dôn right away, even though her friends could hold their souls. I had Morrígan and the children of Llyr to worry about, and with the arrival of my soul and Hermione, I had a hell of a lot more to worry about, a hell of a lot more to lose. Hermione would demand to fight alongside me and whomever else I could find to help.

"Harold, you old coot, where are you? I may have found Gin, and you're nowhere to be found. I need you back here, and we need to find Draconus and the others," I said to myself, aloud as I thought it as well.

No surprise there, brother. You're thinking awfully loud, aren't you? I'm on the continent; I've been tracking Draco for a while. He hasn't been called Draconus for a long time, and when we do find him, he'll insist on teaching you that. By the way, the other girls your Hermione spoke of are the key. I just don't know how to pinpoint who's for whom, and I don't know how to actually retrieve the souls. We'll have to put our heads together and perhaps make a trip to the Isle of Skye and ask Scáthach. Harold's voice floated to my mind.

"We can talk! Where are you? How can we do this? Why haven't you contacted me before!" I yelled, looking wildly around the room for a person not even on the island.

Quiet, man. No need for you to speak, just think at my voice. If you knew where I was, I'd tell you to think in my direction. I'm surprised Hermione hasn't mentioned this trick already. I caught communication between two girls I imagine are some of the ones she mentioned, and that's how I picked up the trick. You might want to talk to her and get a full view of her and her friends talents, as it were. I don't think she's told you all she knows.

I'll speak to her. If she wants answers, so do I.

If you want my advice.

I don't, Harold, but thanks all the same.

My advice is to tell her what she needs to know, answer her questions, and then she'll have no choice but to tell you what she knows. I'll be swinging back up towards you soon. Find Gin for me.

I'll try. It looks like Hermione knows her well, but Gin seems to be fitting herself into this time all too well. And she shouldn't even be alive. Maybe Scáthach

No. I asked Scáthach that day that we left for good. She didn't take Gin. She couldn't.

Fine. When we find her, you ask Gin how she came to be so well preserved, alright?

See you soon Ron. And for all of our sakes, don't think about me when Hermione comes around, alright?

Why?

Some things are left better unshared.

I blushed at that, and I felt Harold leave me, again. I set my face and headed through the door Hermione had left open.

"Here we go, lady love."

Hermione's pov

I felt Ron come up behind me, and I waited for him to do something before I recognized his presence. I was tired and confused, and finding out that my birth was some design of destiny, which I happen to highly disagree with the notion of, made me cranky. If his soul needing a vessel was the only reason behind my birth, he and his Scáthach and Dôn have almost completely invalidated my existence.

Ron moved to put his arms around me, but stopped himself. Instead, he cleared his throat and spoke. "Hermione, we still need to talk, and we need to discuss what's hanging between us. It's like the elephant on the couch, as some might say: you can try to ignore it, but it doesn't make the damn thing go away."

"Don't curse at me, Ronald. You don't have that right. You've just told me that only reason I was born was to hold your soul in trust until you could receive it. Don't think that gives you any right over me, or my body for that matter," I said stiffly, and I could feel his eyes on me, burning into my back.

"So, you'll bitch and moan and cry, and blame me because you heard one piece of information that you're going to allow to destroy your self-confidence? Are you unhappy already? Because it seems more like you find this a convenient out in regards to your life and all that goes with it as opposed to life-shattering revelation. And I never told you that was the only reason that you were born. You assumed that because you happen to a particular purpose, that have only one purpose. You're what, twenty-some years old? How the hell do you know what all you're supposed to do you're barely more than a babe, girl! Don't blame your lack of confidence on me. I've had enough of my own over the long centuries," Ron was angry, and it showed. But I could also tell that he was trying to be civil. I think we were about to bring out the worst in each other when a voice broke over our heads.

"Nae listen tae me, lassie an' me boyo: behave, oor Ah'll coom down meself an' knock yer heads taegether, d'you hear me? Hermione, ya know that there's moore tae life than a man, and Ron, ye know that she's needs time. Ah'll leave ye tae it, because ye must figure out da secret tae da souls fer yerselves. Get it taegether, now. Harold'll need ye when he gets back tae ye," and the voice was gone.

I looked at Ron.

"That," he said, "was Scáthach. The one who trained me, who tricked me out of my soul. The soul she lost when Morrígan attacked; Scáthach lost her only daughter, Uathach, in that battle. Lucky for me, my soul was born into your body, keeping you company almost from conception; Uathach won't be coming back. There is more to this than your own feelings, Hermione. I love you, and I know that somewhere you'll find it in yourself to love me, but more than that, I need you and my soul so that we can meet Morrígan and her horde head-on, and wipe that taint from the Isles and this Earth altogether. Even if you couldn't give my soul back to me, if it were locked in you for all time, or if it had fled of its own accord, I'd still love you. I can accept that I was born for you can't you even admit that you love me?"

I wanted to cry that yes, I did love him, and that I knew that he loved me, not just the thought of getting his soul back, but I couldn't speak. Instead, I turned to face him and I smiled.

"Even if I lack confidence?" I laughed as his face broke into a broad smile, his wavy red hair falling into his eyes.

"You are evil. But the kind of evil I can get used to. Let's eat, shall we?" Ron hugged me tenderly, without a hint of sex to it, a pure form of his affection. I blush at how frisky he was earlier, and wiggled tighter into his embrace. "You should still be tired. And hungry. Gods know I am, after your appetite was sated."

Ron and I settled down and ate a civilized meal. As civilized as can be, when your lover conjures savories and sweets out of thin air.

"So, magick could do this, back when you were first learning?" I asked over a mouthful of spicy sausage.

"No, it's a trick I learned during the plague years, when my vassals were too weak or afraid to plough and pick. I wasn't able to devise a way to heal the sickest, though, and many families were torn apart or obliterated by the disease. Believe me, if I could have done these things back then, my village would have picked up and moved every time the Romans got too close, and perhaps my family wouldn't be dead."

"Ginny is your sister, not your cousin, I gather?"

Ron's pov

Trust Hermione to figure it all out. There was no stopping it, I guess: she knew Gin, who looked exactly like me, and I had already told her about a connection. She looked genuinely concerned as she asked me about Gin. I knew then that honesty was the only way to deal with Hermione.

"Yes, Gin is my sister. Harold's wife, if you will, although they never got around to actually having a priest say the words over them. Harold had a bad experience with Druids when he was barely more than a babe, so Gin never pushed the argument, even though she desperately wanted to be his wife in name as well as in every thing else. Harold has been searching for her all these years do you know where she is, Hermione?" I asked. If Hermione knew where Gin was right now, it would greatly reduce my worry and Harold's.

"I myself don't know where she is. I know a few people I can ask, but you must know that the Ginny I know may very well not be the same girl you thought lost all these years. Ginny is a brilliant girl, with a healing touch, but I've seen her use that skill in its reverse," Hermione said softly.

"What do you mean, Hermione? Gin was the healer in our village; she was touched by Brigid. There's no way Gin would hurt someone, especially not with her gifts. You're shaking your head at me. What don't I know?"

"Ginny is working for the Ministry of Magic. She is in the department of Aurors."

"Are Aurors healers?" I asked, dread pooling low in my stomach.

"No, they are the group of wizards responsible for most of our law enforcement. Ginny is working under Nymphadora Tonks, and the two of them are two of the top Aurors at this point in time. In fact, Tonks runs a kind of special ops corps, comprised of Ginny, Persiopeia Black, Andrea MacGarry, Brenna Ianevski, Pansy Parkinson, and me," Hermione said.

"I thought you did research," I said carefully.

"That is more of a ruse than anything else. I report to Tonks, and I have quite a bit of authority over myself and a lot of wizards and witches, as well as a special standing order from Tonks herself, signed by the Minister of Magic. All the research and travel I do is for our special corps. Truth be told, I found out that Tonks felt the heaviness, and that knowledge pressed her into forming our group. We all look like normal witches, with the routine assignments. But we're not."

"Is Gin your healer?" I said hopefully.

"No. She's responsible for the questioning that led to the saving of a number of muggle children from a dark wizard," Hermione said firmly.

"By questioning, you mean torture."

"Yes. She has intricate knowledge of the inside of the human body, and with that knowledge, she is able to effectively get information without loss of life."

"Even though that person should die for what they've done? So the torture is for information but also for punishment?"

"Yes," Hermione whispered, and from her face, I could tell that she had been a part of the interrogations.

"Good for her, and good for you. It will make you stronger for it, and certainly keep you from making the same mistakes as your victims," I laughed, lightening the mood. "Look, that doesn't change a thing. I love Gin, and I love you. I'm just glad we're on the same side. Look on the bright side: now that I know how skilled you lot are, I won't have a leg to stand on to try to keep you from the battles with Morrígan and the Llyr."

"Don't you forget it."