Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Disclaimer: Anything you recognize is not mine.

Hermione was absolutely fine. Severus had just up and left her at the restaurant and she was fine. Or rather, she was tipsy. Well, perhaps not tipsy, maybe she was...

"I'm drunk," Hermione stated matter-of-factly, sloshing around the Merlot in her glass. She had the stem pinched between her thumb and first two fingers, the bowl wobbling as she swished.

Ron sank down next to her on the loveseat in her apartment. "You aren't drunk, you're tipsy. I know you aren't a big drinker, but trust me. Remember that Holyhead Harpies game?"

Hermione's brain navigated the light fog in search of the memory. Ginny's first game, the bone-crushing boredom, the beer too many. He was right; she was not drunk.

"You know everything about me, Ron," Hermione stated thoughtfully as she turned to eye her friend. "More than Harry. More than my parents. More than Severus, evidently. You know me. Why didn't you know we weren't in love? That I wasn't in love with you anymore?"

No, she wasn't drunk, but she was tipsy enough to poke the elephant in the room, regardless of its tusks. They had ignored it the entire way back from the restaurant, and even in the twenty minutes they had sat silently in Hermione's apartment as she enjoyed a glass of wine... or three. But she was ready to jab it in the ribs, kick it in the shins.

"Because I was in love with you," Ron replied with a shrug.

Hermione gulped down the remaining wine in her glass and rose to get another, only to be pulled back down by Ron.

"You aren't drunk yet," he reminded her, taking the glass from her hand and placing it on the end table beside him.

Hermione's right hand now empty, she grabbed Ron's left, braiding her fingers with his. "This would probably be a good time to apologize then."

She halfway expected him to snatch his hand away, possibly stand up and leave even, setting fire to random furniture on his way, punching a wall, overturning a table. She hadn't known him to be that aggressive, but she wouldn't blame him all the same.

Ron's fingers remained braided with hers.

"You don't need to do that," he replied calmly. "It was all a long time ago. I should have noticed..."

"No, don't do that!" Hermione turned towards him again, wanting to shake him. "Don't make me feel worse by acting as if I did nothing wrong. I will admit that there was never anything... physical. But I know I had emotionally checked out long before our engagement party. Aren't you at least angry about that?"

Ron turned towards her as well, giving her hand a small squeeze. "I want to be. I want to be angry enough to hex you or, I don't know, smash your wine glass. I know I should be. But I can't."

"Just can't bring yourself to care?" Hermione asked coldly.

"No! I just can't," Ron growled. He had finally snatched his hand back, turning away and folding his arms. "Are you happy now? I'm angry about not being able to be angry at you."

Hermione studied Ron's profile carefully. Even in her compromised state she could reflect on Ron's strange behavior throughout the week: the references to religious figures, random appearances and disappearances, his desperation to know about her and Severus and what had come between them.

"Ron, what's wrong? You've been acting strangely all week, and I don't think you've suddenly become Severus' biggest fan, so what's going on?"

Ron remained silent, contemplating the wood flooring below them. This only caused Hermione to worry more. After all, why was he being so tightlipped about it?

And then he sighed. "I've just been feeling strangely for the last couple of weeks. Haven't you been? Any weird visions or strange instrumental music stuck in your head? Anything at all?

"Well, there's been Severus." When Ron appeared to tilt his head in confusion, Hermione explained, "He's just been on my mind incessantly. I won't lie; I haven't stopped thinking about him since we parted ways, but certainly not this often, this obsessively."

"Maybe your thoughts aren't your own," Ron commented cryptically.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Severus Snape did not bewitch me! Not in the manner you're implying, at least."

"That's not what I meant!"

Hermione watched as Ron's frustration boiled over. He had abandoned the loveseat all together and began to pace the limited length of the cream-colored sitting room, muttering under his breath. Although she couldn't catch a word of it, it seemed that Ron had finally been able to get angry about Hermione and Severus.

"You want me to react? Fine!" Ron had stopped his progression to eye Hermione. "When were you going to let me in on your little secret? Because our engagement party seems very last minute. You know, other than waiting until our wedding."

Hermione squirmed slightly in her seat, trying to remember why exactly she was so insistent that he react.

"I was confused," she pleaded. Then she threw up her hands, equally frustrated. "Oh that's a lie. I was a coward. I love you, Ron. I still do. But not the way I loved him."

"Why? Why him?"

It was the question she had been waiting for, and yet still, the one she was least prepared for.

"It's difficult to explain," she began, folding her hands in her lap, studying the tips of her fingers. "He loves the things I love: books, and brewing, and quiet conversation. All of the things that bore you. He challenges the way I think and the things I believe. He smells like sandalwood and has this oddly compelling tone to his voice. And for some reason, all of those things make him incredibly attractive to me."

"Then why wait so long to do anything about it?" Ron asked, his arms raised in typical exclamation. "You've made a fool out of all three of us."

Because I was scared.

"I should have broken it off. I know that. I just didn't know what he was thinking." Tiredly closing her eyes, she continued, "There were moments, like when we would share a cup of tea after a long day, or he'd lend me one of his beloved books with his comments in the margins, that it seemed like we were on the same page, but I wasn't sure. And I wasn't entirely sure that I wasn't still in love with you ... At the very least, I cared enough about you that I didn't want to hurt you."

Ron just exhaled, his arms dropping back to his sides. "I suppose I can appreciate that."

Taking that as her opening, Hermione rose from the loveseat and approached Ron slowly. When he didn't flinch away, she wrapped her arms around his waist, resting her head against his shoulder.

"I wanted to choose you, I really did. I wanted to want you more than anything."

She felt as his arms circled her own waist, one hand stroking her back.

"I know."

Pulling away gently, Hermione picked up her wine glass from the end table and started towards the kitchen.

"Don't worry," she called over her shoulder. "I'm just going to fix myself a cup of tea. Would you like one?"

"Please," Ron agreed, looking spent.

After sitting her wine glass in the sink, she filled her kettle with water, placing it on the stove to boil. Leaning on a nearby countertop, she voiced a thought that had been eating at her since she had first spied Severus in the restaurant hours ago.

"You know, I had built it up in my mind that I was tirelessly researching, making all of these discoveries, doing everything so that I could show him that I was above what he did to discredit me. Show him that I wouldn't allow his rejection to hold me back."

Ron, who had found a spot at her kitchen table, looked up from his game with the salt and pepper shakers. "And that wasn't why?"

"Not entirely," Hermione admitted, smiling to herself. "Of course, there will always be parts of me that will want to be top of the class, prove to everyone that a Muggleborn is just as capable. But it was also a way of remaining closer to him. Maybe if he saw my name, he wouldn't forget how he felt, just the way I'm reminded when I see his. I wouldn't just be some apprentice with whom he nearly had a fling."

Ron shook his head. "Believe me; you can see it in his eyes. He hasn't forgotten you."

The kettle whistled, causing them both to jump. As Hermione tended to it, Ron revealed something of his own.

"You know how you asked why I was acting so weirdly? If something was wrong?"

"Mmhmm," Hermione replied as she fished in her cupboard for the sugar.

"Well," Ron hesitated. "I had a religious experience, of sorts."

Pulling back from the cupboard, Hermione gave Ron a look. "I didn't realize you were interested in that sort of thing."

"It's not exactly what you think," Ron explained. "Someone just sort of showed me that I haven't been living. And maybe it wasn't entirely my fault, but I was comfortable. I didn't want to... deal with anything. You know, feel."

"Hence the lack of anger," Hermione said, as she approached the table, a mug in each hand.

"A bit, yeah. Thanks," Ron added when Hermione placed his tea before him. "But not anymore. I'm not letting anyone or anything run my life. I'm going to stop hiding and fight it."

"Bravo, Ron," Hermione said kindly, raising her mug in solidarity. "But what exactly is it that you're fighting?"

Ron stopped mid-motion, his mug an inch from his lips. "I dunno."

"Oh. Then do you need help figuring out what it is?"

Ron clunked his mug down on the round wooden table. Hermione flinched, almost spilling her tea.

"No. I already know who knows the answer. And he's going to tell me."

Ron sounded defiant.

Taking a quick sip of her tea to prevent overflow, Hermione watched as Ron stood up from his chair, his tea still untouched.

"And you're going to go find out right now?"

Ron's blue eyes had taken on the same possessed gleam she had seen days before in the Ministry, and it was worrying to say the least. But before she could even try to reason with him, his long legs had taken several strides towards her fireplace.

"I'll owl you tomorrow, okay?" He had already grabbed a handful of Floo powder and was in position to leap into the green flames.

"Ron, shouldn't we talk about this? I really could help."

"I have to do this alone. I've only just realized it, but it's the truth. I promise I'll find you in the morning."

And with that the redhead jumped into the green flames.

Glancing around her empty apartment, Hermione drank her tea. Tears rolled down her cheeks, dripping on to the table cloth, on to her dress. She felt overwhelmed, but after seeing Ron, she decided it was just nice to feel. Things would probably be worse before they were better, but she was ready too. She was ready to face Severus again.

"Krish-naa!"

The yell was feeble at best. Ron sat on a faded red rug in the middle of his sitting room, his knees bent and his arm spread out on either side. He had been calling and calling, his voice raspy from his failed efforts to summon the deity. He wasn't sure how long he had been at it, only that it felt as if his throat might bleed from further efforts. It had never taken this long for Krishna to respond to his call. It often felt as if the god was following him, only waiting for the right moment to materialize.

Near to the point of exhaustion, Ron allowed his arms to give way, collapsing backwards. Lying flat on the thin, yarn-like fibers, he took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Exhaling, he allowed his eyelids to flutter open again. And there was Krishna, standing over him like one of the brass statues in the temple.

"You called, Mr. Weasley."

It wasn't a question, but a statement of exasperation.

Ron nodded sheepishly, still spread out on the rug. "Yes, I called. And called, and called. What took you so long?"

Krishna crossed his cerulean arms, which suddenly appeared particularly muscular in the light of Ron's apartment, prompting Ron to quickly sit up. Though he had only known him a few days, Ron could already read Krishna's body language, and what he read was that his face was dangerously close to being stepped on.

"You do realize that there are many who seek my help across the globe."

"Yeah, I know," Ron replied, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. "Sorry."

Krishna exhaled and smiled – with an effort, but still. "All is forgiven, Mr. Weasley. Now, please, why have you summoned me?"

Ron scrambled to his feet. With his chest slightly puffed, he said, "I just wanted you to know that I'm ready."

Krishna raised an eyebrow.

"I apologize, but ready for what?"

"The truth, the secret, you know, the thing that's going to tear my soul apart," Ron relayed. "I'm ready to face it."

Krishna studied the man's face carefully, as if he could see through his skin and bone and into his mind.

"I see," he finally replied. "And how have you come to this decision, Mr. Weasley?"

Ron sucked in his lips in slightly, stuffing his hands into his pockets. The time he had spent fruitlessly hailing Krishna had given him an opportunity to consider the answer.

"I realized that you were right," Ron admitted. "I haven't been taking control of my life. I've been letting whomever, or whatever, run it. I've been hiding, in my dad's department, behind my failed engagement, reveling in my numbness." He paused to exhale. "But this thing, whatever it is, won't win. I'm Ron Weasley. I wear my emotions on my sleeve, I enjoy a good adventure, and I am not still in love with Hermione Granger. And this, this thing will not convince me otherwise."

Krishna nodded solemnly before a satisfied smile spread across his full lips.

"Well done, Ronald. It is often most difficult to defeat one's personal demons. It is only once one steps back and reflects that they recognize the roadblocks they have erected for themselves."

Although Ron too had begun to smile, his face froze as he considered Krishna's word. "So, there isn't any soul destroying ... thingy that's threatening Hermione and me?"

"Yes, of course there is, Mr. Weasley. But that does not render your personal success any less powerful."

Are you bloody kidding me? Ron fumed internally while staring incredulously up at the half-dressed being.

"No, not at all," Ron agreed sarcastically. "At least not until I'm soulless. Then I think all of my personal growth is pretty much a loss, don't you?"

Krishna clucked his tongue. "Such an impatient young man. Things will resolve themselves, of that I am certain. But you must remain on the path you are on. Trust your destiny. The next step will appear very soon. Her face will be the beacon of hope."

"Her?"

Just as Ron had managed to utter the question, a familiar voice echoed out of his fireplace.

"Ron, are you there? I think I know what's going on! Could I pop by?"

Padma, Ron realized with a jolt. He wasn't sure if he wanted to laugh or kick Krishna (though he did realize the latter would be a poor decision).

"You're not serious," Ron exclaimed in a loud whisper, throwing Krishna an accusing look.

"Yes, of course I am," Padma said, sounding as if she was at the bottom of a well. "Do I really seem like the type of person who makes late night prank Floo calls?"

Barely containing a groan, Ron threw Krishna one more look before calling out, "No, no, of course not! I wasn't, I mean, yes, come by. Now."

It took Padma only a matter of seconds to step over the fireplace grate and into the sitting room, still dressed in the flattering black dress she had worn to the restaurant. Her hair hadn't fared as well and was now sticking up in clumps. Ron imagined she had spent the hour they were separated trying not to pull it out.

"You still have that dress on," was his brilliant greeting.

Now he just wanted to punch himself.

"And you're still wearing a tie," she pointed out, still stationed just outside of the grate. Her eyes swept the room curiously. "Were you just talking to someone before I arrived?"

"No, I wasn't, really," Ron rambled, his eyes making their own sweep. And as he had assumed, Krishna had done a bunk. "Well, maybe to myself, you know. Hard night and all."

Really, if he didn't punch himself, he'd be fine if she did it. Someone had to shut him up.

"Sure..." Padma agreed, her dark brows furrowing. "Anyway, the reason I'm here is that I think I have a working theory, but before I explain that, do you still have the engagement ring you gave Hermione? Or did she keep that?"

Why was Ron's heart suddenly in his throat? He could just feel it there, pulsing. "Yeah, I have it... somewhere. Not too fussed about it though. I'm completely over it."

"But you can find it?" she asked with concern.

"Yes, sorry," Ron quickly answered, deciding that stepping on his own foot might at least be more discreet than taking a swing at himself. "I'll go get it."

Dashing off into his bedroom, he couldn't help watching over his shoulder several times, as if to make sure she didn't leave. As he dug through his sock drawer for the not-so-forgotten ring, he began to wonder when Padma had turned into Padma. She was just standing there, in his sitting room, in that dress. The thought of it gave him indigestion, or was it that sharp pain from before?

Returning to the sitting room and out of breath, he immediately noticed that Padma had moved. Luckily, it was only to the couch. Joining her, he plopped down hard enough that Padma sprung up a little.

"Here," he said as he dropped the ring into Padma's outstretched palm.

"Ouch!" she exclaimed as the ring made contact with her skin. Her sudden flinch caused it to jump out of her hand and onto the nearby rug.

Bending down to retrieve it, Ron asked, "Are you okay?"

Padma shook out her hand and then examined it. "I'm fine. The ring just burned me."

"Really?" Ron responded, rolling the small metal loop between his fingers. "It feels perfectly fine to me."

"Well, that just confirms my suspicions," Padma said. It was only then that Ron noticed she had lugged an extremely large briefcase with her. After extracting a notepad and quill, she inquired, "When exactly did Hermione break things off?"

Ron snorted, leaning into the couch cushion. "In the middle of the bloody ceremony." Shifting his head to watch her, he asked, "Don't you remember? You were there too."

Padma didn't bother to look up from her notes.

"I know it was during the ceremony, but what was the exact moment? I remember you did some old-fashioned ritual."

Ron rubbed his stubbly chin thoughtfully with his thumb and forefinger. "Yeah, it was a binding spell. Kind of a preliminary to the wedding. Something Hermione had dug up in some ancient tome," he answered slowly, the memories filtering back. "She said she borrowed it from you."

Padma stopped scribbling and placed her quill flat against the notepad.

"She did borrow it from me. Oi." The latter was said with a look of regret. Turning her body slightly to face Ron's, she asked, "Can I start off by apologizing for that?"

"Well, I think we both know she was going to break things off, regardless."

Shaking her head sadly, she insisted, "Yes, but everything that's happening right now, it's from that book."

Perplexed, Ron leaned forward on the couch, resting his elbows on his knees.

"Is it cursed or something?"

"No," Padma answered carefully, "but you might be."

Ron opened his mouth several times, no sound coming out.

"The spell she found, it's an engagement enchantment, Indian in origin," Padma explained, practically covering her face in her hands. Sighing, she settled her hands in her lap and continued. "The myth is that it was created by the god, Kamadeva. In mythology, he's a bit like the Hindu version of Cupid, bow and arrow and everything. The thing is, it's meant to bind together those who are truly in love. Except..."

"Hermione wasn't in love with me anymore," Ron finished, pushing back the ginger fringe tickling his forehead.

"Exactly. She didn't even take the vow, did she?"

"No, I said my part and she said, 'I can't do this,' and ran out of the room."

"Well, that's it then," Padma reasoned. She was scribbling on her notepad furiously. "You're bound to her and she isn't bound to anyone. And like you said at dinner, it's been exactly ten years. The spell is probably itching to complete the process. It's incredibly unsatisfying to do these things halfway."

Ron felt deflated. He really had gotten in his own way.

Staring straight ahead to the bare wall in front of him, Ron muttered, "So the ethereal glow, her voice in my head, my inability to move on ... "

"All side effects most likely," Padma replied. "I think the first two might have been last-ditch efforts to force you to complete the ritual, but the latter..."

"I allowed it to go on too long."

Abandoning her notes, Padma place a hand on his shoulder and tried to offer him some comfort. "Honestly, with this type of spell, it only becomes harder to fight it the longer you submit. In the first couple days, had you say, burned all of her possessions and developed some vitriolic hatred of her, you might not be feeling anything at all now, might even have moved on."

"But instead I've just been waiting around like an idiot," Ron grumbled. He wanted to shake off her hand, but resisted, even if he didn't deserve her pity. "I honestly thought I was completely over her, but I guess some little part of me is still in love with her."

"I'm guessing some little part of you always will be, Ron," Padma said quietly. "That being said, it shouldn't stop you from moving on. Allowing the enchantment to keep its hold is probably what's 'destroying' your soul, Hermione's too."

"Probably," Ron agreed. "She did say something about thinking about Severus a lot, so I guess it's affecting her as well."

Padma scrunched her nose and then relaxed it. "Sorry, still getting used to that. He's brilliant and all, but not exactly my type."

"I'm right there with you," Ron replied before quickly rephrasing the statement, his hands raised in a surrender-like fashion. "I mean, in general, men aren't my type, but, you know, even if they were, you know, in some far off universe..."

"I get it," Padma assured him with a smile. Her hand had slid from his shoulder to wrap around his elbow. "So it seems like the only way to shake this will be for you to let go. Declare that you're not in love with Hermione and that you no longer want to be bound to her, but really mean it. I'm assuming that's why Krishna asked you to reunite Hermione with Severus. It's the ultimate act of moving on."

Ron nodded in agreement, leaning back into the couch cushion again. He could feel Padma lean against him, their shoulders touching and her arm caught in the crook of his. He ached to wrap it around her shoulders, but he satisfied himself with brushing her hand with his.

"Who would have thought ten years ago that I would be hooking Hermione up with Snape?" Ron wondered aloud.

Whether it was nerves or stress or the sheer absurdity of the situation, Ron wasn't certain, but something triggered Padma into a fit of giggles, one that had her trembling in her seat, her arm still wrapped around his.

Ron began laughing as well, the two of them practically tearing up as the true cause drifted away, leaving them laughing just to laugh.

Of course, everything seemed to be pretty fluid these days, so it probably shouldn't have been too surprising when the fireplace flashed again with green flames.

In Ron's mind, it really was only a matter of time before Severus Snape showed up to murder him.

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 desigrl - the amazing alpha/beta/cheerleader combo - as well as ofankoma, quaffswinegaily, and wildmagelet, who all stepped in at various points in the project to help edit and Britpick.