Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Anything you recognize is not mine.

Time ticked by, almost in step with the impatient taps of Krishna's sapphire-colored right foot. Somewhere in London, a resident or two might have felt the rhythmic vibration under their floorboards, but Krishna's jittery movement was unconscious. Leaning against his heavily adorned altar, Krishna's arms were crossed over his chest, much in opposition to the portrait hanging above him, his likeness in a seated position with his legs crossed and his hands supporting his famous flute to his lips. He had long ago tossed aside the wooden instrument, his lips chapped and fingers cramped. He certainly couldn't produce the tranquil smile on his portrait's lips.

Despite his impatience, Krishna knew Mr. Weasley would appear soon, much like he knew many things: the Carson family would welcome a baby girl tomorrow at half past noon; it would rain this evening for approximately 54 minutes in central London; and, at this very moment, a fender bender was occurring on the A3. These and other little things...lost teeth, broken bones, and first kisses...were like tiny pinpricks across his being, hardly noticeable unless he concentrated. And thus, with all of his concentration focused on young Weasley's body hurtling through the Floo Network, he barely batted an eyelash as the man stumbled out of the nearest fireplace, tumbling onto the floor with uncontrolled momentum.

Covered in ash and dust from his travels past half of London's fireplaces, Ron coughed from his position on all fours, his red hair shadowing his face as he crouched. Wiping his mouth and pushing back his hair, he glanced around the room from his place on the stone floor. Possibly shocked by the gilded walls or the unfamiliar portraits of religious scenes, he blinked, his one-track stupor finally lifting.

Where the bloody hell am I?

Though the thought went unspoken, Krishna heard it as if it were shouted. Tempering his concentration on the man, he tried not to allow an amused smirk. After all, Mr. Weasley had certainly kept him waiting.

"Language, Ronald Weasley," Krishna chastised.

Judging by the way his eyes widened, he had finally noticed Krishna standing only a few feet away. His efforts to escape were thwarted by his inability to stand up properly, forcing him scramble clumsily in the other direction, practically crab-walking. He seemed unable to control his jaw, the mandible flapping uselessly, his chin nearly dropping to his heaving chest.

"I... you... who? "

Since he failed to hear any other thoughts coming from the crustacean-like human, Krishna assumed that he was properly gobsmacked. Good.

"I believe you would like to know who I am," Krishna interpreted, finding it increasingly difficult not to laugh at the young man's pitiful state.

"Uh-huh," the ginger managed to say, his head nodding and his jaw still unclenched.

"Very well," Krishna said, taking a gentle step forward. "I am the Object, the Origin, the Maintainer, the Shelter, and the Goal."

"Right, okay," Ron managed thoughtfully. "So that would make you..."

Krishna refrained from rolling his eyes, if only to maintain some shred of his dignity. This was exactly the reason he avoided non-believers.

"I am Krishna, a higher being. The higher being. It's actually a bit more complicated than that... but that's all beside the point! I have summoned you for a reason, Ronald Weasley."

"You're a ... a... god, then?" Ron asked, still appearing flummoxed by the situation he found himself in.

"Yes, I am," Krishna answered evenly. He was more concerned that Ronald focus on the problem at hand. "And as I stated, I have come to you with a mission, one that has dangerous consequences should you fail to complete it. Do you understand?"

The man's jaw no longer flapped uselessly, and his blue eyes were focused on the glowing being before him. Krishna could hear the whispers of thoughts rocketing around his mind, too scattered to follow. Despite the disarray, Krishna could sense something he had come to detest in Ronald Weasley: stubbornness. This trait was radiating off him as his right hand reached for his wand.

"Why should I believe that you're a god?" Ron asked from his place on the floor, clenching his wand in his fist. "I've seen my fair share of disfigured blokes who claim to be all powerful, and I haven't seen you do anything particularly amazing."

Krishna sighed. Theoretically, he could just cause lightning to strike him down or some other catastrophe to occur; it was all well within his power. But he wasn't a malevolent god, so instead he waved his hand, prompting the lighting to brighten as flames rose up on their wicks and torches and artificial light filled the room.

Bloody anyone can do that, Ron reflected skeptically as the room brightened.

Hearing the thought, Krishna grumbled, "Not that," nodding towards the lights up above. "These," he continued, his hands fluttering in different directions.

Krishna watched carefully as the redhead's eyes fell upon the portraits and the statues, the copper and pewter and silver, the bright garlands and succulent fruit. And there among it all, a constant theme, was depiction after depiction of Krishna, appearing no differently than he did in person.

Oddly, it was Krishna's turn to be surprised when the man finally spoke.

"You knew what I was thinking," Ron said, his eyes wide. When Krishna raised an eyebrow, he continued, "You didn't use Legilimency. I would know if you had. I would have felt it."

"I could simply be a master of it," Krishna reasoned, wanting to combat any possible arguments.

"No," Ron muttered, looking down at the ground, his face scrunched in thought. "I've been through the gamut at Auror school... in the war... You're not using Legilimency."

"That is correct. I do not need mortal means to see what is in your head or what is in your heart. It lays open to me."

Ron opened his mouth, but shut it again. He may have had an argument prepared, but he remained silent, contemplating the temple's stone floor.

"Are you ready to hear your mission?" Krishna asked.

"I suppose, yeah," he replied, looking up again.

Ronald still appeared defensive, a tight grip on his wand, but he looked as if he would hear Krishna out, and for Krishna, that was enough. The rest would work itself out.

"Dangerous magic is afoot," Krishna began, ignoring Ronald's skeptical snort. "Yes, I know, you are very experienced with this brand of danger. However, I believe I am correct in saying, none that threatened to tear apart your soul."

Ronald's skeptical look transformed minutely. Krishna had his full attention.

"Yours and the soul of another close to you are threatened if you do not approach this mission with the utmost diligence..."

"Wait," Ron interrupted. "Whose soul? Who else is in danger? I swear, if it's Harry again, I'm going to..."

"Not Harry Potter," Krishna replied quickly. "I think we can all agree that Mr. Potter has suffered enough."

"Then who?" Ron asked again.

Krishna considered the question. He hadn't planned on revealing the other soul in danger. In these situations, as frustrating as it was for those entrusted with a duty, less information always seemed best. But perhaps this time was different...

"Hermione Granger," Krishna finally answered.

"Hermione," Ron whispered. His brow furrowed and then arched, a look of realization forming.

"You understand the importance, then?" Krishna asked, relieved with the young man's reaction

"Yes," Ron responded quietly. "Please, tell me what you need me to do."

"First, I must warn you, Ronald Weasley, that what I will ask of you will not be easy. Not in a physical sense, but intellectually and possibly spiritually. What I ask of you may cause you to question many things you know and believe."

Krishna paused, allowing all of this to sink in.

"To save your soul and the soul of Hermione Granger, you will need to bring her together with a past mentor. You will need to reunite her with Severus Snape, and though not immediately, you will ultimately need to unite them in marriage."

Ronald's mouth lay open, agape horror painted on his countenance. Of the many emotions Krishna had watched spread across the man's face, this was perhaps his favorite. Not because he took any pleasure from his horror, but because there was no denying, even by a benevolent higher being such as himself, the humorous quality of young Weasley's bulging blue eyes.

"You... no... that's... I can't... I mean, what do you even mean by... What?"

Fearing that the man's brain might soon leak out of his red-tipped ears, Krishna stepped forward and placed a hand on his shoulder. The effects were instant, Ronald's muscles relaxing, his unconsciously heavy breathing steadying.

"I cannot explain the intricacies of this now," Krishna confessed. "All I can say is that you will find the answers you are looking for in time. It is not my place to reveal them. You must discover them on your own."

"But I don't understand. Why Snape of all people? Why me? I don't even know where to begin with all of this," Ronald said desperately. "Aside from the fact that I'm not Snape's favorite person, I'm not even sure why he and Hermione aren't in contact anymore. I didn't even know they needed... reuniting!"

"Then, Mr. Weasley, the first part of your journey is clear," Krishna replied calmly.

"But..."

"I have told you what is at stake. Two souls, yours included, are threatened. Now, off you go."

Ronald raised an eyebrow in protest. "Wait, that's it? You tell me that I have to hook my ex-fiancée up with her mentor, who is also our ex-school teacher, old enough to be her father, and kind of a git, by the way, or our souls will be... what? Destroyed? What does that even fucking mean?"

"Language," Krishna warned.

"With all due respect, Mr. Higher Being, I'm having a little trouble swallowing all of this at the moment."

Krishna smirked at this. "So you ask for more, Ronald Weasley? I'm afraid that you'll just have to trust me, and perhaps even more, trust in your own abilities."

And with that, Krishna turned to take his leave, his message delivered.

"Wait," Ron called out again. "There's someone else, isn't there? Neither me nor Hermione are followers. There's someone else involved. Is it Snape? Did he pray to you or something?"

Krishna continued walking, but turned his head to reply, "All will be revealed, Ronald Weasley. The truth is waiting for you to discover it."

Turning his head forward again, Krishna's delicate red lips formed a familiar smile, pleasant and serene. Though it wouldn't be easy, all would be well with Ronald Weasley, of that he was certain. As a second thought, he paused to pick up his forgotten flute on the floor. Despite his confidence, Krishna knew friendly reminders of his observation wouldn't be remiss...

November 3rd, 1998

Directing her glance at the dour man behind the desk, Hermione wondered what had prompted him to trust her with his own property. Perhaps he wasn't as cold as she had imagined.

Hermione was supposed to be focusing on the numbers: reaction times, dosage amounts, ingredient ratios, stirring counts, digits and decimals and commas. But they were no more than inscrutable symbols to her at this moment, because instead she was thinking about Severus Snape. Again.

This was not her. Hermione Granger, or at least the version of herself she had come to recognize, was not distracted by men or fashion or even, at times, proper hair care. She was not fussy. She was academic. She did not wile away hours wondering how she was thought of by that someone special. Well, there was that one time in sixth year... but she had maintained high marks even then!

And now as a full-grown woman with burgeoning eye wrinkles and dressed in a faded, lime-green lab coat and too-long slacks, Hermione found herself daydreaming about the adorable way ink would sometimes smudge Severus' nose when he leaned too close to the parchment as he took notes.

Honestly, she didn't know which was worse: how adorable she found it that Severus Snape clearly required prescription eyewear or that she found Severus Snape adorable at all. That was not the worst of it, however. She had only just snapped out of a daydream about Severus' hands. His long fingers, delicate as he drummed them against his chin in thought; his callused palms, roughened from stirring, and chopping and working with his hands; the way that combination would feel as they intertwined with her own, or perhaps cupping her cheek, or against her bare waist or... No, she would not allow herself to finish that thought. It was almost lewd the way she couldn't stop thinking about him, the manner of ways she kept imagining him. There might have been a time where thoughts like those may not have been... completely inappropriate, but not now.

Not after what he'd done.

"Hermione? Hermione!"

Though she remained inside her locked office, Hermione recognized Ron's desperate call immediately. She moved to stand, but instead retook her seat. She couldn't see him right now. She was guilty enough. Luckily, Hermione's lab partner was outside in the lab to greet him.

"Would you stop yelling like an idiot?" Padma asked.

Oh, boy, Hermione thought, her office chair squeaking as she settled in.

Unsurprisingly, Padma was not Ron's biggest fan. Throughout their ten-year partnership, Hermione had honestly found Padma Patil to be kind, generous, intelligent and open-minded. She had been there to pick up the pieces after... well, after. And aside from the occasional argument about who was hogging the better quills or the actual benefits of bat spleen, they hardly squabbled. This all boded well for their experiments, not only because the duo was now world-renowned, but also because Padma seemed to be very capable of holding a grudge.

Closing her eyes, Hermione listened to the conversation. In her mind, she pictured Padma's hands raised in exclamation, her elbows tucked closely to her torso. It was about an hour from packing up, so the baby hairs along her temple were most likely standing straight up from the fumes, as if attempting to escape from her scalp, and the rest of her long dark hair lank from the lab's humidity. She also tended to press her full lips together when provoked, as if she were preventing her true thoughts from escaping.

"Look, I just want to know where Hermione is. I really need to talk to her!" Ron responded.

Yep, she loves when you ask about me, Hermione thought grimly.

So maybe there was that little chink in their partnership. And it wasn't about Ron brooding over her through the entire Yule Ball. They had been fourteen after all, and since then, Padma had dated many more attentive men. It was the after. How Hermione had continued to defend Ron after they had ended things. How Hermione hadn't exactly corrected her when she had assumed that it had been Ron's fault. How she wouldn't just shut Ron out. So Padma, being a loyal, though misguided, friend, had taken it upon herself to do it for her.

"It's pathetic, you know," Padma said. "It's been a decade and you're still not over her. She's moved on."

"Oi, it's not about that," Ron argued.

Her eyes still closed, Hermione imagined his hands were now raised in exclamation. Funny how they both did that.

"I... I can't explain what it's about," he continued, obviously frustrated. "But it involves the two of us, Hermione and I, and I need to... to discuss what it means."

"Well, she isn't here," Padma lied, sounding unconcerned. "I'll let her know that you stopped by."

"Fine," Ron muttered.

Hermione heard as his footsteps retreated, but then paused.

"Damn it, enough with the bloody woodwinds!"

To say this was a strange utterance might have been putting it lightly. Hermione quietly walked towards the office door and silently unlocked it. Peeking through a crack in the doorway, Hermione watched as Ron stood frozen at the lab's door, his head in his hands. Padma stood a few feet from him, also frozen.

"Ron?" Padma asked, her tone softer.

"It's nothing," he grumbled, reaching for the door handle. But he didn't take it. "Padma, did Hermione and Snape have some sort of falling out?" His gaze seemed to wander toward the office door.

Hermione felt her heartbeat jump, her hands slick against the metal door knob.

Padma snorted. "Really? You came to ask about that old news?"

"So they did. Did they have a fight or something?"

"Or something," Padma answered, left eyebrow raised.

Ron nodded. He went to reach for the doorknob again, but abruptly stopped.

"Have you... Have you ever heard of someone named... Krishna?" As he asked the question, Ron nervously pushed back the long hair falling into his eyes. If she hadn't been so focused on the interaction, Hermione might have affectionately reflected on how long he kept it now.

"You mean, Lord Krishna? Or just someone named Krishna? Because it's a pretty popular Indian name."

"No, the Lord one," Ron confirmed, meeting Padma's gaze. "Blue, kind of tall, not a lot of clothes from the waist up but a big fan of the gold jewelry."

"What about him?" Padma asked slowly. She looked as perplexed as Hermione felt.

Ron's mouth opened and closed several times before he finally replied, "Nothing. Er, yeah, I don't know. I should just go." This time, his hand gripped the doorknob securely and turned it. Shaking his head and mumbling, he walked out of the lab, the door closing behind him.

Deeming it safe to come out of her office, Hermione delicately stepped out from behind the door.

"So that was strange," she said casually as she walked into the lab.

Padma startled slightly before turning to face Hermione. Leaning against an empty black lab table, she uncrossed her arms and took hold of the table's edge on either side of her body.

"Has he been okay?" Taking in Hermione's questioning look, Padma continued, "Look, I know I'm the last person to be asking, but he had a bit of a crazed look in his eye. And the question about religion, where did that come from?"

Shrugging tiredly, Hermione took a seat on the opposite table. "I don't know. He has been acting strangely. He wouldn't even look at me when I ran into him and Harry in the canteen earlier, and I saw him leaving the Ministry in a weird huff a couple of hours ago. And now he's asking about Severus..."

"Yeah, about that," Padma said. "Why didn't he know what happened between you and Severus? I thought you two were still talking back then. And it was pretty big news."

It took choking on her own saliva and the entirety of the resulting coughing fit for Hermione to remember that Padma didn't have the entire truth either. Managing to regain her voice before Padma Summoned a glass of water, Hermione croaked, "He's not exactly up on the goings on of the Potions world. It's not really on his radar."

"But still," Padma insisted. "I would have thought you might have told him."

Hermione shrugged. "It didn't seem that important."

Both women seemed to know that was a lie, even if one of them wasn't completely sure why. But neither addressed it, instead sitting silently as a cauldron bubbled in the background.

A/N: Written as a gift for bardsdaughter1 for the 2012 SSHG Exchange. Given the specificity of the prompt, I will wait until the last chapter to reveal it. Thank you to my awesome editing team, which included the amazing alpha/beta/cheerleader combo, desigrl, as well as ofankoma, quaffswinegaily, and wildmagelet, who all stepped in at various points in the project to help edit and britpick.