" A simple friend wonders about your romantic history. A real friend could blackmail you with it."

- Unknown

Chapter One:  Social Casualties

Ron apparated outside of a house that he'd spent more time at in the last ten years than he'd ever imagined. There were the nights spent laughing, fighting, watching cheesy Muggle movies, throwing spaghetti at Harry (when Hermione was out of the room, of course), and talking about anything and everything. And then there were the days- when they weren't working, that is. They'd make fun of Hermione's cooking, laughing at her cranky next door neighbour who looked older than dirt, wondering exactly how old Mr. Next Door was- needless to say, they spent more nights together, as it was usually the only time the three of them weren't at work.  If anyone had told him ten years ago that Hermione's house would be his favourite place besides the Burrow, he probably would have laughed in his or her face. He walked around to the front door, taking in everything, the light hue of crème paint, the white shutters and front deck, and flowers everywhere- flowerboxes, planted around the white picket fence, hanging baskets on the porch, sitting in pots next to the wicker chair, and lining the stone path that led to the front door. So full of life, throughout whatever happened- if that wasn't Hermione, then what was? He walked up the porch steps, ready to stretch out on the hanging swing and nearly sitting on Hermione's tabby cat, Milton.

"Sorry, there, Milty," Ron said, as if the cat could understand him. Even if it could, that wouldn't have made a difference; the little bugger hated Ron. Actually, he hated everyone except Hermione. Hissing, the tabby ran under the porch, pursuing a particularly daring garden gnome.

Laying back on the swing, Ron remembered just why he loved being alive. It was a cool summer night in mid- August, and the sun had just retired to its' slumber on the other side of the world. Pinks, oranges and reds streaked the sky, a beautiful reminder that it would be returning tomorrow, and the next day and the next. When he was a young boy, Ron's mother used to tell him that the colours were the sun's dreams. Oh, it didn't matter that they couldn't tell what the sun was dreaming about, but it was certain that it was something wonderful. The young Weasley children would all lie in the dewy grass outside, trying to guess what it was that the sun was dreaming about. Bill would say that the sun was dreaming a great dream about some wonderful adventure in a faraway land; Charlie would tell everyone that it was dreaming about dragons- big, scary, fire-breathing dragons- and that was where the red and orange came from; Percy said that the sun just didn't dream; Fred and George would always come up with some crazy idea about what was going on in it's head, always different, and always entertaining. Ron always got very excited at his turn- he had to wait for five people to talk and he would be just bursting to tell everyone his idea. Ron's story was always the same- the sun was dreaming about a princess, a very pretty princess, but he could never seem to catch her. She would always run far, far away, and in his dream, the sun would have to chase her across the sky.

"How does the story end, Ron?" his mother would ask, smiling at her youngest son.

Ron would shake his head, sadly, "I dunno, Mummy. I just don't know."

The smells of the flowers surrounding him filled Ron's nose as the night crept closer around him. He loved nighttime.  The sound of crickets chirping, night owls hooting and the giggling garden gnome, and the gentle rocking of the porch swing were threatening to lull him into a sleep, so he got up reluctantly, and let himself into Hermione's house. As it was his second house, of sorts, he decided to make himself comfortable.

Hermione's house suited her in every way. There were pictures of everyone that she held dear hanging on the walls and sitting on tables. The colours were soft and relaxing, contrasting artistically with the dark colour of the hardwood floors. Being one who constantly had food on the brain, Ron walked into the kitchen and found three grocery bags on the counter with a note sitting next to them.

Put these away? Had a call. Will be late. Sorry.

- Hermione

Ah, so that was why Hermione wasn't bustling about in her typical crazy way to get ready for tonight's dinner party. 'Party' wasn't the best word, perhaps, to describe what it was that they had. Once a month, Harry, Ron and Hermione would have dinner together- a tradition that they had started three years ago and kept up. Over the past few months, Ginny had been joining them, and as things were getting more serious between Hermione and Andrew, the psychologist had been joining them as well.

Ron busied himself with putting away the groceries, wondering what had pulled Hermione away. Perhaps a patient had flat-lined? No, Hermione worked in the Emergency Trauma Ward at St. Mungo's. Strangely enough, that was where she'd met Andrew nearly six months ago. He was visiting with one of his patients, a trauma victim who had tried to commit suicide, when Hermione came in. She had treated the same girl that Andrew was visiting. And, wouldn't you know it, here they were six months into a relationship thanks to one suicidal witch.

Glancing at the clock, Ron realized that Hermione would not be home in time to make dinner. Why not help out a friend? He started cooking what Hermione had bought home for the night, and the salmon was broiling, decided that they would eat outside. Hermione's patio table in the back yard was big enough for everyone. As he was walking back inside, he heard a voice from inside the house.

"Hermione, darling? Are you here?"

Ron walked in to find a very confused Andrew Lewis holding flowers and looking around for his girlfriend.

"Oh, honey! You shouldn't have!" Ron exclaimed as Andrew turned around and scowled. "Hermione had to go to work. I made dinner."

"Is it edible?" Andrew asked with a sneer that reminded Ron of Malfoy.

Ron ignored this and went back to the kitchen to make the salad. It wasn't that he didn't like Andrew. He liked him all right, but he just got the feeling that he wasn't quite in the older man's good graces. Hermione had told him once that Andrew was jealous of the time that the two of them spent together. Andrew followed Ron into the kitchen and began hunting around for a flower vase, seeing as Hermione loved flowers, there had to be hundreds around.

"Under the silverware drawer," Ron told him, as he sliced tomatoes.

"Yes…erm, right," Andrew said with half of a smile as he opened said cabinet to find the stash of vases.

"Her favourite is the glass one with the sunflowers painted on… but I'll bet that you knew that," Ron said, glad for the excuse of searching for carrots in the refrigerator to hide his smirk.

"Thank you, but I can find it myself."

"I was just saying…" Ron trailed of, dicing carrots. He glanced at the clock as he scooped the vegetables into the large bowl of salad. Harry and Ginny would be arriving shortly, Hermione still wasn't home, and it was getting dark. Putting down the cutting board and knife, he began to search through some of the higher cabinets until he found candles. "Here," he said, thrusting them into Andrew's hands. "Take these outside and light them, will you?"

Andrew turned and walked outside without another word, and came in moments later looking quite proud of himself. Quite concerned, the redhead turned to see what the cause of the self-gratification was and found the backyard practically glowing. Andrew had been quite productive, Ron saw, as he had lit the stone chiminea. Andrew stood in front of him with his hands clasped behind his back and rocking back and forth on the balls of his toes, smiling in that obnoxiously perfect way, as if just waiting for Ron to comment on his wonderful decision making skills, as the night was getting colder and some heat in the backyard would be nice.

"While your busy setting the mood, Andy," Ron said, sarcasm dripping from his voice, "Pick out some music, eh?" Lately, when Ron and Harry had been around Hermione's boyfriend, they had lightened up a bit on bashing the psychologist. It wasn't just him; all of Hermione's boyfriends had undergone such torture. Ron was the same way when it came to Ginny (which is what cause Harry to rethink his position as acting as a big brother, of sorts, when around one of Hermione's boyfriends). Ron and Harry figured that since Andrew had stuck around this long, he was for keeps. They should ease up on him, seeing as he didn't quit on Hermione just because of her friends, like a few other men had. In Hermione's experience with relationships, there were more first dates to count, but most of her blossoming relationships ended on the second date- the traditional night out with Harry and Ron. It was their way to weed out the wankers who were only after what all healthy males were after. If he wouldn't stick with Hermione just because her friends knew how to rib the guy, then he wouldn't stick around when things got tough.

But Andrew had stayed. That, in and of itself, was quite commendable.

"Hello?" He heard being called from the living room. Thank God. Ron walked out to meet Harry and Ginny, quite glad that someone was rescuing him from spending some 'quality time' with Hermione's boyfriend.

"Where's Hermione?" Ginny asked as soon as she saw Ron.

"Not like I'm your brother…" Ron said, although his smile gave away his amusement. "She had an emergency call, but she'll be back. I cooked."

"Is it edible?" Harry asked.

"Ha ha ha. We all know that I'm a better cook than Hermione."

"Here, here!" Ginny piped in. "Speaking of food, I'm hungry." Right on time, as if the oven knew never to mess with a hungry Weasley, a buzzer signalled the completion of dinner. Harry and Ginny made their way outside, and Andrew followed while sorting through CDs. Ron was on his way outside with plates when he heard a pop! from the living room. Hermione, still in scrubs and lab coat, was looking quite flushed although very please with herself. Ron could only imagine whose life she had just saved.

"Thanks for making dinner, Ron," she said, kissing him on the cheek in greeting. I'm going to go change; tell everyone I'll be out soon."

"Hello, Hermione," Ron muttered with a smile as he walked outside.

A few minutes later, just as an awkward silence was falling over Andrew, Hermione walked outside devoid of horrid green scrubs and now sporting her typical jeans and shirt.

"I'm so sorry that I'm late, everyone," she apologized immediately. "You see, there was this critical care patient who had a reaction to the potion that we put him on, and we had to-"

"Eating!" Ginny warned, as a gesture for Hermione to please stop her story.

"Sorry," Hermione replied with a sheepish smile. She lowered her eyes as they met Andrew's with a shy smile. Ron inwardly groaned. It was a strange thing to watch your best friend fall in love in front of your eyes. Andrew rose and wrapped his arms around her waist, leaning in for a kiss.

"Eating!" Harry warned, as a gesture for Andrew to please refrain from snogging Hermione in his presence. The couple reluctantly took their seats as they relapsed into a somewhat strained, although pleasant conversation that drifted back to their Hogwarts years.

"You know, I don't remember you at Hogwarts," said Harry to Andrew.  "What house were you in?"

"Ravenclaw," Andrew replied, "And, strangely enough, the only thing that I remember about ever seeing the three of you in Hogwarts was when they sorted you into Gryffindor, Harry."

Ron nearly spit out his pumpkin juice.

"You're not serious!"

"No, I am," said a confused Andrew.

"Do you mean to tell me," Ron continued, leaning in, "That you never went to a Quidditch match?"

"I never really enjoyed Quidditch."

Ginny gasped, as Ron continued, "What about on feasts at the end of the year? Gryffindor won both years that we were in school together; Dumbledore mentioned all three of us by name in first year, and in second, why Hermione was petrified! How could you not remember?"

"I was never very… social in school. I typically kept to myself and the library."

Oh no… Ron thought, Hermione's dating a Percy wannabe…

He decided, upon reflection, that it was best not to voice this opinion.

Dinner was going well, Hermione thought, and the fact that she didn't have to make it made the night all the better. She sat back and watched the interaction between her boyfriend and best friends, attempting to read Ron, Harry and Ginny's expressions. The three of them seemed to be enjoying themselves, and Andrew had managed to steer away from topics that generally rubbed Ron, by far the most explosive at the table, the wrong way. She was also quite enjoying his hand on her knee.

As the meals were very close to being finished, a phone rang. Andrew soon found that it was his, and he excused himself to take the call.

"Dessert, anyone?" Hermione asked, standing to clear the plates. Harry, Ginny and Ron also stood, to clear their own. "Oh no," Hermione chided them, "I'll do it; it's fine. Sit." She gathered up the plates, and Ron insisted on helping her, as he had cooked it. As they were walking inside, arms filled with dishes, Andrew was on his way out, manned with cell phone and jacket.

"Hermione, love," he said, "I'm sorry; I've got to run. One of my patient… you understand, don't you love?"

Hermione nodded.

Ron didn't understand.

"I'll see you soon," Andrew said, kissing her cheek and disapparating.

Ron and Hermione walked inside to place the dishes in the sink. Before Ron could stop himself, he let his mouth slip again.

"Well that was rude."

Hermione shot him a death glare. "He cares about his patients, Ron," she told him, scrubbing down dishes manually.

"Oh, I see," said Ron, joining in the scrubbing, "He cares about his patients… more than he cares about you."

She glared at him again. "I would have done the same."

"No, you wouldn't have. Not the Hermione that I know." Ron removed the strawberry shortcake that Hermione had made earlier from the refrigerator and stole a lick of frosting. Strawberry shortcake was Hermione's specialty.

"If someone's life was on the line-"

"He's a psychologist. Someone's life is not on the line if they've just seen their grandmother in the shower. That's hardly what I'd call life-threatening… although I can see your point; it certainly would be traumatizing."

Ron stared at her as she gave him the unimpressed look. But she cracked first, and had to smile, laughing quietly at the marvel that was Ronald Weasley.

"Somehow I don't think that he would leave because of that."

"Well he just did."

"Stop, Ron," Hermione commanded, removing dessert plates from a cupboard. "Don't judge someone that you don't know."

"I know him well enough to know that he's not good for you."

She set the plates on the counter, composedly, and turned to look at him, clearly not happy.

"Excuse me? How is it that you presume to know what is and is not good for me?" she asked, her voice shaking in anger, although it remained at a normal volume.

Ron shrugged. "I've known you forever. It's not that hard."

"Look, Ron, if you think that you can just come in here and tell me how to live my life-"

"I'm not, Hermione. I'm not. But is Andrew what you really want? That's all I want to know. Is he really what you want?"

"Of course he is, Ron. I love him; he's all that I've dreamed of since I was ten years old."

"He's what you want? He can be all that you want?"

"Yes, I've told you-"

"I don't think so," Ron said. "He's not right. Something doesn't fit."

"Then what do I want, if you're such the expert, Weasley?"

"That," Ron said, pointing out the window to the backyard. "That is what you want."

Hermione smiled at the sight that was before her. Harry and Ginny were in each other's arms, gently swaying back and forth to the soft jazz music that was wafting through the yard. She watched as Ginny smiled when Harry spun her around. She saw the contentment in Harry's face when he rested his chin upon the top of Ginny's head that she had laid on his chest. He kissed her flaming red hair, and leaned down to whisper in her ear. Her smile broadened, and she tilted her head back as a light-hearted laugh trickled from her throat. Harry kissed her cheek, and then her neck. She laughed again, and swatted at his arm, saying something to him with a look that quite reminded Hermione of when she was eleven years old. Most likely, she was reminding the man of her dreams that her brother was right inside. Harry didn't appear to care though, as he spun her around once more, this time dipping her back on the final chord of the song. As she stood straight, he kissed her in a way that surely must have stopped her heart. As if afraid to break the spell that they, the music and the moonlight had cast, the rested their foreheads together, smiling a secret smile.

"Now if you think that Andrew can be all of that to you, then fine," Ron was now saying. "Go off and marry him, move to your fancy house, have your freakishly smart children, go to your PTA meetings in your matching BMWs and live in the utopia of middle-class suburbia. But, Hermione, if he isn't everything that you want, if he can't be all that you've ever hoped for, then I'm asking you, as your best friend, please don't throw your life away for someone who doesn't… who doesn't stop your heart and doesn't love you as much as you deserve to be loved. You're an amazing woman, Hermione. You deserve better."

She turned to look at him, now, tears streaming down her face. "Thank you."

Ron had to grin. "For what?"

Hermione wrapped her arms around him and buried her head in his chest. "For caring so much."

Ron chuckled as he returned the hug. "It comes with the territory," he told her.

"But, really," she said, pulling away slightly to look him in the eye. "I do love Andrew. I really do, Ron. This is it; all that I'll ever need. It's sweet of you to be protective, really it is… but… I'm a big girl now. I can take care of myself."

"Just as long as you're sure," Ron prompted, only to be silenced by her broad smile.

"I've never been more sure of anything. He's going to propose, you know."

"Really? Mione, that's wonderful. How do you know?"

She giggled in a very uncharacteristic way- but then again, Ron had never seen her this much in love before, and love can do strange things to people.

"He left his day planner here," she said as Ron fought the temptation to roll his eyes. Of course the man would have a day planner, "and he made dinner reservations for Friday night at my favourite restaurant, he had an appointment with a jeweller, and the other day, he excused himself to go to the bathroom, but I found him in my room, looking at my rings. It was so funny, to see him all flustered. He told me that I had small fingers, and then, as if he were being so smooth, he asked me how small were my fingers, exactly? What was my ring size? I had to keep myself from laughing in his face. And unless you start being nicer, then you're not invited to the wedding."

"You're going to say yes?"

"Well, obviously."

Ron smiled. "Let's go outside," he said. "Harry and Ginny are probably wondering where we are."

He picked up the cake, leaving Hermione in charge of plates and forks.

"Ron," she said, stopping him before he could go back outside.

"Hmmm?"

He turned to face her, the door propped open with his foot, letting Milton the cat run inside.

"I meant what I said," Hermione said, in her cryptic female way.

"About what?"

"Thank you…for caring so much. Thank you."

He nodded and smiled with a glint in his blue eyes. "It comes with the territory."

Author's Note: And another chapter bites the dust! *Spins mouse around by the tail and blows on the smoking clicker in manner of Clint Eastwood* The feedback from the last chapter was awesome guys! Dare I say it? Keep it up! I tried to send an email response to all of you, but stopped somewhere around reviewer fifteen or so. There were just so many of you! *Author puts arms over her head and lies in the corner of her room in the fetal position in an attempt to shield herself from the swarms of mass reviewers until she realizes that her computer is not attacking her. Sighs in relief*. I had to say that it was hysterical to see you saying, "Andrew should die" in your reviews, as my brother's name just happens to be Andrew (you can see why I would use his name for a character that, under principal, no Ron and Hermione shipper likes). Anyway, this is a really long AN, with one point- REVIEW!!!