Hello, my lovelies.

This fic was written for a fic exchange over at Granger Enchanted. It's complete, so I will be posting the chapters rather quickly (there's only four). It was written for the wonderful ArtemisGoddess.

This fic involves a coerced relationship. That's a trigger for some people, so I'm warning.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I am not profiting from this.

"Good morning, Severus!" Hermione cheerfully greeted her colleague as she hung up her jacket.

"You are awfully chipper for a Monday morning," he replied in his annoyed-sounding drawl, without looking up from the cauldron he was bent over. They had been working together for nearly four years, brewing healing potions for use in St. Mungos, and he knew from experience that as good a worker as she was, she was prone to the Monday morning blues, which wasn't uncommon.

"I am well aware of how much you enjoy having chipper people around. However, this morning I have good reason to be in good spirits," she beamed, setting up her workstation across from his. "Ron asked me to marry him."

His eyes shot up to look at the large ring now adorning her left ring finger. "That was quick," he muttered, turning back to his work.

"It's only been three months, but it feels right." she shrugged. "It is a bit quicker than I thought I would get engaged, but I can see this really working out."

He grunted, but didn't reply. The less he heard about Hermione's love life, the better. Just before she had started to see the Weasley boy, Severus had been considering asking her out on a date, but he had waited just a little too long. Her announcement that she was seeing Ron had caught him by surprise; he had known they remained friends after the Battle, as she had with Potter and the whole Weasley clan, but she had never mentioned viewing him as anything more than just a friend. From her constant prattle and what she had spoken about her friends, he would have thought her interest leaned more towards an older Weasley, possibly Charlie or George, but not Ron, who still seemed to have a knack at making her angry. Seemingly overnight, Ron had gone from a friend to the love of Hermione's life. Severus was wary of how quickly she had fallen for him, but not having much experience in serious relationships himself, he wasn't sure if her sudden fascination was out of the norm for a young couple.

Still, he watched her closely throughout the day. She didn't stop smiling, though she didn't bother going over wedding details with him. Spending at least eight hours a day, five days a week together, they naturally got to talking every so often about their personal lives, but she knew he wouldn't be interested in wedding details. However, he was a bit curious about something, so after lunch he started prying her for information.

"Do you have a date in mind yet?" he asked casually.

"We were thinking the twenty-ninth."

"Of this month?" he asked, pausing in his surprise.

"You know me, Severus, I'm not a fussy person. I don't want a big wedding with all the frills. We plan on having a very small ceremony and dinner with our closest family and friends."

"His family alone makes any wedding large."

"Some of them aren't coming," she said softly.

"Really?" he questioned with an eyebrow raised. The Weasleys were known for supporting each other through thick and thin. For some of them to break ranks, save for Percy, was very unusual.

"George and Bill have both said they aren't willing to come."

"Are they both busy that day?"

"No, it's not that. They said that we're moving too fast. They thought I was pregnant at first," she added with a chuckle.

"How is that funny?"

"It's just something," she murmured, and her cauldron started bubbling. The conversation ended quickly so she could attend to her work, but Severus' mind was in overdrive. Bill and George refusing to go to the wedding of their youngest brother to a girl they both knew for years certainly sounded like something wasn't sitting right with them. Perhaps he could stop by the joke shop on his way home...

No, he thought, shaking his head. Granger has made her decision. She's an intelligent young woman. She has her reasons for getting married so quickly, and if she wants you to know she'll tell you. If she's making a mistake, it's hers to make.

Severus vowed not to get involved any more than he already was. It wasn't his place to pry. Though, deep down, he still wondered if there was more to Hermione's relationship than met the eye.

XXXXXXX

The next Monday morning Severus had sincerely expected Hermione to arrive in a bad mood. Over the weekend a reporter from the Prophet had pictured Ron with a leggy blonde at a Quidditch game, and things did not look benign. He expected to see the dark side of Hermione's famous temper in full force, so he was shocked when she came in with a smile across her face.

"Should I be sending a search party out for Weasley's body?" he asked.

"What would give you that idea?" she asked, sounding genuinely surprised.

"I would have thought you would have been a little more upset this morning."

"Do you want me in a bad mood?"

He sighed, deciding to stop beating around the bush. "Did you not see the Prophet yesterday?"

"I did."

He stopped his work, suddenly concerned for her. "Did you see the picture they ran of your affianced?"

"Yes," she replied, refusing to look up as she prepared her station.

"And yet you are not upset in Weasley's antics?"

"He explained everything to me," she said, starting to chop roots.

"I'm dying to hear this."

"She is the daughter of the Russian Minister of Magic. She wanted to be shown around the Ministry, and Kingsley asked Ron to do that. The Russian Minister thanked him for showing her around by giving them Quidditch tickets. That's all that was going on."

"Do you honestly believe that load of rubbish? That story is so thick it may have come out of Goyle's head."

"Ron wouldn't lie to me."

"Ron also wouldn't tell you that the girl happens to be Rose Zeller."

"Rose Zeller?" she asked softly.

"She started school four years after yourself; sorted into Hufflepuff."

"No," she shook her head, but sounded doubtful. "She was rounder, wasn't she? And she had brown hair."

"And no woman has managed to slim down and change their hair color before?"

"I think you're wrong." She shook her head.

He started at her, anger rushing over him. Without thinking he strode over to her, lifting her up by the elbow. "Look at me, Hermione," he ordered.

Reluctantly her face turned up towards his.

"Is he hurting you?" he demanded.

"What? No!"

"Did you do something to wrong him in the past?"

"Not hardly!" she protested, starting to sound angry herself.

"Are you pregnant with his child?"

"No! Why does everyone...?"

"I cannot believe your attitude because this is not like you, Hermione! Where is that girl from Hogwarts? The one who got so upset at the lack of her Defense education that she started an illicit club to learn spells? The one who punched Draco Malfoy in the face for daring to laugh at her friend's pain?"

"Why can't anyone see that he loves me?" she shouted at him. "Why does everyone have to question why we are moving so quickly, or imply that he's just using me?"

"Perhaps because that is just what it looks like? You, the good, respectable, loyal girlfriend, who, for some incomprehensible reason, refuses to see what is laid so plainly in front of your face. What the hell happened to you, Hermione? You refused to speak to the boy for months when he was seeing that wretched Brown girl, but when he takes another girl out on a date while engaged to you and gets the pictures published in the paper, you make excuses and believe a wilder story than even Lockhart could dream up?"

"Stop it!" she looked up at him in defiance. "Ron loves me. He wouldn't cheat on me. If he was out with another girl, there's obviously a reason."

He inhaled to keep the argument going, and there was something on her breath that gave him pause. Was it parchment? Or was it the intoxicating aroma of a well-stocked potions cabinet, and the deep, woodsy scent of the solitary sanctuary of an old forest? These were the the scents given off when he smelled Amortentia. Suddenly everything clicked into place. Hermione's sudden loyalty to Weasley, and her fierce defense of him and their love wasn't a leftover schoolgirl crush. Someone, obviously linked to Ron if it wasn't Ron himself, was slipping her a love potion. Few knew Hermione better than Potter and Weasley. Ron would know that Hermione didn't give up on something easily. If he could keep her long enough to marry her, maybe give them a few good months together, if her sudden infatuation with him wore off after that, she would attribute it to the so-called 'Honeymoon Phase' being over, and work to keep the marriage together. She didn't give up on anything, especially something as important as her wedding vows, even if she wasn't happy. And she would blame herself for her sudden shift in feelings.

Hermione spun and stormed off into the stores. He watched her go, and immediately thought himself a fool. Hermione was a Potions Mistress. She had studied all sorts of potions, including Amortentia, and would know if someone had slipped some into a drink by the distinctive odor. It would be nearly impossible to slip her a love potion without her knowledge.

Still, something wasn't right. Hermione was never one to do something on a whim, especially something as big as marriage. He vowed to watch her for a while, and do as much digging as he could. There had to be an explanation of Hermione's sudden change of behavior, and he was determined to figure out the puzzle.

XXXXXXXXX

Hermione didn't speak to Severus the rest of the day, and left at exactly five o' clock despite it meaning that she had to put off her batch of Pepper-Up potion for another day. She had never expected Severus Snape to be happy about the news of her engagement, but to accuse Ron of hitting her and cheating on her? That was beyond the pale. How dare he! She had waited a year for him, giving him hints of how interested she was in him, and he ignored her advances, but when she's taken by another man all of a sudden he has an interest in her personal life?

"Too late, Severus Snape!" she shouted into her empty flat. The outburst did nothing to stem her anger, so she stomped through the flat, coming to the kitchen to make herself a pot of tea. The tea took some of the edge off, and she decided to take the drink out to her patio. The morning's Prophet was still on the table, and she picked it up on her way out. She slowly sipped the tea, and when half of it was gone, decided it was time to take another look at the pictures.

The Prophet didn't dare conceal their delight at the scandal in the making. A picture of Ron leading the young woman by the hand into the stadium was prominently placed on the front page. The girl was not easily identifiable by her face; most of it was covered with a hat and sunglasses. Also on the front page was the mention of Kingsley meeting with "several foreign dignitaries". That made her feel a little better, as it backed up part of Ron's story. She took a deep breath before turning to the inside page, which promised more of the developing scandal.

The pictures on that page weren't nearly as close and well-defined as the one on the front page, but there was little doubt Ron was sitting quite close to the attractive young woman, and that he was certainly not keeping his hands to himself. One would be resting on her forearm or leg; occasionally he'd touch her face or shoulder. While they didn't kiss, they certainly didn't seem like a platonic couple.

She closed the paper and shook her head. Ron loved her. She knew it. She hadn't doubted for a moment since they had started seeing each other. She vividly remembered the day they got together. The night before had been filled with lust-filled dreams of her former friend. She woke up in the morning to knocking: Ron was at the door with breakfast, needing a sympathetic ear over some frustrations he'd had with his job, and Hermione, ever the dutiful friend, settled in to listen and offer advice if needed. But she couldn't focus on the story. She could only focus on Ron; his bright eyes, lopsided smile, everything down to his long fingers were enticing her to the point of distraction. Ron seemed to catch on fairly quickly to the fact that she wasn't listening to him. Somehow it turned into a confession from both of them: he admitted to wanting her for a long time, she saying that the attraction had hit her hard, but now that she felt it, she couldn't imagine how she didn't see it before. The attraction quickly led them to the bedroom. After, she was convinced she had something she would want for life. Ron seemed to think the same. He spoke about how much his family liked her, and how they had been hoping that he would to give up his carefree lifestyle for a girl like her, and now that he had her, he could see why they were pushing him in that direction.

Still, it was unsettling to see pictures of him with a pretty girl. After the war, Ron had gone through a playboy phase, moving through girls quickly, spending the money the Golden Trio had made from book deals and payments for their deeds from the Ministry on luxury items like a large house, new broomsticks, and choice seats at every World Cup. It wasn't a bother to her before, they were each going through the sudden fame in their own way, and while she and Harry seemed content to move away from the public eye as much as possible, Ron, who had never had much and had always been Harry's second-fiddle, happily spent his money and enjoyed his time in the limelight. But the fervor over anything related to the Golden Trio had died down. Requests for appearances had started to slow, books had been released years prior, and the Wizarding World was starting to move past the dark war with Voldemort. Ron seemed to realize that his name wasn't as important as it once was, and this was when he started seriously dating Hermione. The news had whipped up interest in the Trio again, and Ron was enjoying another bout in the limelight. Hermione, however, knew Ron was just being Ron. He may be enjoying the limelight, but she really should draw a line in the sand. The longer she sat there, the more the picture started to irritate her, and by the time she would normally be having dinner, there was anger coursing through her veins.

She heard her door open and close, and knew Ron had let himself in. They were going to be married soon, but they weren't living together, and the apartment was still her space. Part of her wished he would at least knock.

"Evening, love," he kissed her forehead and sat next to her.

"We need to talk," she murmured. "About the paper."

"Sure," he nodded.

"The girl, in the paper. She wasn't really the Russian Minister's daughter, was she?"

"What? Yes, she was..."

"Someone told me she was Rose Zeller," she interrupted, studying his face.

He swallowed hard and averted his eyes.

"Ronald, was that Rose?"

"Yes," he replied in a whisper.

"Why did you lie to me?" she asked evenly, though her blood had started to boil.

"Because I was afraid of your reaction. Rose was having a bad day. I found her crying in the hall outside Courtroom Ten. She apparently messed up bad on some paperwork. Harry was unable to go to the game, so I offered to take her. There's nothing else to it."

"Where were you last night? You normally come back after games."

"I went out for drinks with Robbins. You know, the Chaser. I talked to him about training camps. I was thinking of trying out next year."

There was something in his eyes, something that made it hard for her to believe him.

"Did you sleep with Rose?" she asked.

"No!" he denied quickly, face turning beet red. "I would never... Hermione, I love you!"

"I'm starting to wonder if you really do," she hissed before standing up and storming into the house.

"Wait, Hermione," he called, hurrying after her. "Hermione, please. I didn't do anything. What can I do to prove that to you?"

"What could you do?" she snapped, hands on her hips. "I don't know, how about not going out with some pretty young girl, holding her hand and putting your hand on her leg, especially not in full view of the press? How about not disappearing for a night after being seen with that girl? How about not feeding me some cock-and-bull story about her identity, Ronald? Is that clear enough for you?"

Her clock chimed six, and she scoffed before Ron could answer and walked through the house to her bathroom. She got her pills down from the cabinet, one to counter the effects of her torture, one for the migraine she felt growing, and a birth control pill, and took them all with a quick drink of water. She turned back to tell Ron to get out so she had time to think to find him staring at her from the hall.

"You're still taking them?" he asked, nodding towards the birth control pills.

"Yeah, why wouldn't I?" she asked, confused. "I'm not ready to be a mum."

"I get it," he said slowly, studying her face.

"Ron, I think..." she started, but she cut herself off as she looked at him. Slowly her anger with him drained from her body. Ron could be an insensitive prat at times, but she knew that. She had no proof of his infidelity. She decided she could give him the benefit of the doubt.

"Yes, love?" he asked quietly.

"In the future, please remember that you are a taken man," she said softly, moving forward into his arms. "I don't want to have to pummel a girl for touching you."

He chuckled. "It won't happen again," he replied, kissing her forehead and causing her heart to flutter.