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Why Couldn't it Start With Hello?

Chapter 1?

Ron had to get out of the house. Absolutely had to. It wasn't that he didn't love his family- he did. He absolutely did, with all his heart. But that didn't mean his family wasn't driving him absolutely insane. He couldn't get a moment to himself, and he was finding that he desperately needed it. The time had come when he needed to find himself, and he couldn't. The loving, warm burrow had become increasingly stifling, where every room had a Weasley or two without him. Even his own room was no sanctuary, as he had found one particularly hot afternoon.

And in a wonderfully trite and hackneyed way of thinking, Ron would admit (later...much, much later) that the heat had nothing to do with the temperature.

Ron had pulled one of his most ragged possessions out from underneath his mattress. It was in worse shape than the mattress he had gotten from his grandparents, more dog-eared than any of his second- (and sometimes third-) hand textbooks. With a happy sigh, Ron gracefully flopped onto the bed, pushed the bangs out of his eyes, and prepared to spend the afternoon with the gorgeous, sexy men of his sister's stolen copy of Wizards of Sex (she was too young for that kind of vulgarity anyway). It wasn't the best copy he had ever written (and the title- it almost put Ron off reading it entirely) but the pictures! The glistening, lovely, perfect bodies of the most sexy men Ron had ever seen; flexing, winking, licking their lips and crawling across the page, muscles rippling as they pretended not to see Ron's eyes darting over their bodies. They didn't notice the tinge of pink around Ron's cheeks, or how full his lips got as his hand crept closer and closer to the raging erection just under those robes…

Usually, this is where Ron would watch the fireworks behind his eyelids, and be washed over with pure pleasure. But of course, happiness can't be achieved through pornography (all of the time) and his mother decided that even though Ron's door was shut, it was a good time to drop off his clean laundry. And that's when he was caught- his robes above his midriff, his stolen magazine with pictures of well built men garishly displayed all over the front, calling to Mrs. Weasley to come and play, hiding what, according to his mother, "should only be seen by your wife."

His mother completely blamed it on herself. She wailed and fell to the ground, lamenting in a wounded tone only a mother or dying animal could make, "It's my fault! I should have known better! It's all my fault, how you turned out like this!" And the hurt and pain quickly turned to anger, with her screaming, "How could you do this? Don't you know what this will do to us, to your family?"

And as the anger subsided, she whispered in a loving, scared voice, "We just care about you and your safety. Do you know what a hard life you're choosing?"

Yes, Ron absolutely had to get out of there.