Ronald Bilius Weasley was a liar.

He was lying to his best friends, he was lying to his family, and he found that he even had himself fooled the vast majority of the time.

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Ottery St. Catchpole was a nice place to live. Ronald wasn't sure he would call it exciting or even interesting. Perhaps that was because he'd spent his whole life there. Muggle and Magical Communities united in the same little town; except, the muggles didn't know this. So, at the start of the Summer when he and his brothers had gone out for a brisk stroll he was not surprised to find plenty of the non-magical people running about in as jovial spirits as himself. They pushed tikes in strollers. Some of them smiled and waved at the three red headed bows who were only passing through. While Fred and George were inside of a store getting ingrediants for tea and possibly things to wreak havoc with Ron stood outside the shop with his arms folded over his chest and his lips drawn in a frown.

"It's going to rain," he mumbled to himself as the thick black clouds began rolling in. He could smell the pungent and distinct smell that came with the rain. Lightning rippled through the sky after a cannon of thunder blew. Ron watched the visible fringe of water drops hurtling his way.

Fred and George came outside and saw this predicament. Quickly they eyed one another and then both began to grin. Ron knew something was being devised against him. The twins told him that since they could Apparate now he would have to walk on his own.

"You can't be serious!" Ron exclaimed as his brothers made their way behind the shop and out of muggle eyes.

Fred replied with an, "I'm certain we are quite serious little brother."

"Have a nice shower," George called.

Ron groaned and realized he had little choice left than to walk and get soaked. It had been such a nice day too. Where had the atrocious storm come from?

In a matter of minutes he was completely soaked. All the parents who had ventured out with their kids were no longer seen. Some people in ponchos and others with umbrellas hurried for sanctuary, but sadly, Ron's was quite a ways from home. He stepped down from curb and as he was crossing the street an umbrella was put over his head to shield him from further assault. "You're soaked," a gruff voice said. "Would you like my umbrella?"

Ron turned to see who he owed a favor. It was a man only slightly taller than he was with a face muddled by several dark freckles and some acne scarring. Ron laughed after the man asked him such a question. "I'm already wet. No since having two completely wet people when you have a perfectly good umbrella."

The man nodded with a smile playing at his lips. "It'll cover the both of us then. Might be best to take cover even if you are damp. Be terrible to catch cold in the summer."

Ron obliged, with little reluctance, for the sanctity of the umbrella. The muggles were a nice bunch—so long as they weren't aware of mischief. This man seem cordial and well kept. His face was broad with a strong jawline. His eyes were dark like dusk's sky… Ron quickly turned his eyes to the sidewalk. A blush had crept across his face and his ears were no doubt blended with his hair. What was wrong with him? Such a thought was ridiculous. There was just something about the man that gave him butterflies in his stomach. He's a man, Ron thought. He is quite obviously a man.

They continued walking side by side with their arms only brushing a few times. "So," the man began, "what's a boy like you doing out in this weather?"

"I was shopping with my brothers. They left me behind to stroll in the rain."

The man shrugged and claimed that he too had been shopping. "But now, I am just enjoying the walk."

It was not long after this discussion that Ron realized they were only walking aimlessly. He was no closer to home than before. His house was still some ways away. He was almost positive that his Mother was scolding the magic right out of his brothers for leaving him alone. Not that Ron was some baby. He'd turned fifteen near the beginning of the year. Ron knew the reason he forgot about home had been because his attention was on the battle which he was losing with himself. The struggle of keeping his eyes off the man and keeping his emotions from shooting butterflies into his stomach. He couldn't remember the last time he'd looked at a girl and felt half so much.

Luckily, the man asked, "Where are we heading then?"

"I suppose it would be best if I could just get back to my house."

The man chuckled and asked," Where is your house then?"

Suddenly, Mr. Weasley was coming up the way with an umbrella of his own and a vexed look plaguing his face. His sons had gone and left their brother and he was the one trudging toward the town to retrieve his son. They'd left him at the tea shop, but when Mr. Weasley arrived Ron had been gone. Then in the distance he had seen the fiery red hair under an umbrella up the way. "Ronald!" Arthur called up to his son.

Ron glanced sidewise at the man and chuckled nervously. "Um, I guess this is where we part ways."

The man just nodded curtly. "Perhaps we might meet again."

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It became part of Ron's daily routine to run toward town around the same time every day. The flittering in his stomach would consume him when he saw the man or there would be an emptiness when he was not. One evening at supper, Fred pointed out his little brother's removal from the home. It was more than usual for any summer holiday and the boy suggested that little Ronniekins must have met a girl.

Ron could not hide his embarrassment; so, it became a running joke to the rest of the family that Ron had fallen for some girl in town. Ron did not deny it, because in truth he was captivated by someone, but not someone he could talk about. The way his father watched him when anyone brought it up was hard to decipher. Ron had a bead of dread in his gut that his father was on to him, but if he was he said nothing. Since his father said nothing, Ron continued going to see the man.

He found the man's name was Lowell. His family came from France, but he was born and raised in England. Ron introduced himself easily as Ronald, but insisted that he was only to be called Ron. Lowell had laughed at him and his adamancy toward name calling.

Ron figured that he'd feel some sort of strangeness since he was spending so much time with a man who was older than him. And he was spending it in such a way that would insinuate interesting notions. Not that Ron was certain he was gay himself, but an inclination to kiss the man's stubble ridden face grasped him at all the wrong moments. He could walk side by side with Lowell and they would talk about trivial and arbitrary things. Living in the same town gave them enough in common that the age gap hardly appeared to matter to either of them.

He was thankful that his wants were quelled when they would enter areas where others typically dwelled. There were several mothers talking as they pushed children along. They were heading home as the sun decided to part as well. Lowell was watching the women with a strange and yearning expression on his face. Ron wondered if he was wrong about Lowell's infatuation with him, but Ron could not think of any other reason the man would so chose to hang out with him. It was hardly a father-son type relationship. That thought was rapidly dispelled when Ron felt Lowell's hand brush the back of his own. The travelled the perimeter of a small meadow where people tended to gather for recreational purposes. It reminded Ron of his yard.

When Ron felt the hand rub against his he began sucking on his lower lip to extinguish the urges that began to rise. This moment was the worst yet. In a hushed tone, Lowell asked him, "Are you of age, Ron?"

Ron would be sixteen in March. He would then be only a year away. It seemed close enough to him. His instincts told him where this was heading and he nodded. He was lying, of course, but he wanted to this so terribly bad. His attempts with Hermione had all but gone flat. He called off any more attempts especially after the dramas during the Tri-Wizard Tournament. He did not want to pass up on this new found crush. It felt dangerous and exciting. He wanted to just… try. If Ron said no then he knew that Lowell would say sorry and walk right out of his life in the same fashion which brought him in. That felt like it could break his heart. Just one kiss, Ron thought. I'll have this one kiss and I'll know I am straight.

"Have you ever bee with another bloke?" Lowell asked him. His voice was strained like he had to try to grab ahold of the words before he spoke them. Ron shook his head. "I've been waiting for some time… to do this then…" Lowell reached forward and rested his hands on Ron's waist and his lips came to rest on Ron's and it felt amazing. It was a fumbling event to start, but Lowell was possibly as nervous as he was. After a moment of holding him there, Lowell pulled back and smiled. They were only the nose length apart.

Ron smiled back and couldn't help but fill the space between them again and chance his own attempt at sealing a kiss. A moment after this kiss, Lowell stared into Ron's eyes and said, "You're very Handsome, Ronald." A grin spread over his face.

"No," Ron said softly. "I'm not."

Lowell frown. "Don't say that. You're very handsome."

"I find you quite handsome," Ron decided to say.

They ended up walking only a little further. When the man's hand reached down and took his he felt how rough they were. Lowell did appear like the type to do manual labor. He had the air of someone who was a little rough. Ron was certain that many people were propelled by the man's appearance on first sight, but his gestures were kind and gentle. The more Ron saw how similar they were in disposition the more he found himself falling. He knew he was awkward looking. He knew he was not so eloquent with words like Hermione. He didn't have amazing abilities like Harry. Ron was plain and had a short fuse.

Lowell told Ron that it would be best if they ran home or the evening. This time, instead of saying they may meet, he promised to see Ron again. It was then that Ron was certain he was in love with him

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On a delightfully calm and breezy evening, several weeks after their first fumbling kiss, Lowell invited Ron to his home. It was a small little place right on the outskirts of the town. It was a single floored house with only two bedrooms. The kitchen and sitting room were essentially the same room and divided by a dining table that could only fit two persons. When Ron entered, he was a little confused to find the muggle man used lanterns and candles rather than electricity as the rest of the town did. Had Ron been too hasty in his belief that the man was only a muggle? Plenty of Wizards lived in town as well.

The man made the room only bright enough to navigate without fear of stubbing toes and banging shins. "I'll make some tea," Lowell said. "Have a seat and get comfortable." After the tea was finished he sat two cups of it on a side table and wondered off toward one of the back rooms. Ron waited patiently. Uncertain about what Lowell was getting. When the man did return he had a wine bottle. In the other hand were two glasses. His shirt was slightly unbuttoned. Ron's eyes went back toward the tea which they were supposed to be drinking instead.

Lowell sat down beside him on the couch and poured their glasses. The rims were ready to spill over. Ron wasn't sure why he insisted on drinking all that wine when they could easily have the already made tea. Ron gulped down his fears for the time being. Lowell appeared much more relaxed in his own domain. He sank back against the arm of the couch and began to drink the wine in mouthfuls. "Cheers," he said after finishing his first glass.

The taste of the wine was relatively sweet, but it had a strong kick to it. Ron felt like it was going to pour forth from his nostrils when he nearly choked on it. He began coughing, but Lowell ignored this and topped Ron off, even when he was barely a quarter of the way through. Ron continued drinking.

The bottle of wine was finished. Ron felt what dizzy. He'd not meant to drink so much, but Lowell had insisted and poured and poured despite Ron's declarations that he couldn't drink anymore. Lowell had consumed much more than he had. Ron found that he was reclining back against the man's chest. Lowell began laughing and Ron soon joined in even when he was not sure what was so funny.

"Unbutton my shirt," Lowell breathed in his ear.

As Ron maneuvered and twisted to face Lowell he found that the room was trying to tip over sidewise. He pressed his cold hands firmly against Lowell's chest and the man hissed at the contrasting temperatures. Ron couldn't sit up straight and ended up yanking Lowell's shirt down and slamming his face against the man's shoulder. His nose was bloody, but Lowell laughed as if it were nothing. Ron soon believed it was nothing. Eventually, they were dropped onto the carpet beside the couch and their glasses had rolled off somewhere. Lowell hovered over him and pressed his fingers against the buttons of Ron's trousers.

"I'm… I'm a virgin…" Ron confessed a little embarrassed. He hiccoughed and Lowell snorted. He pressed his lips over Ron's and skillfully traced his tongue over the interior.

"I'll be gentle," he said, once he back away leaving a trail of saliva from his mouth to Ron's. When Ron went to protest he kissed him once more. Lowell began to trace kisses up Ron's body. His mouth knew just where to go to get the boy stirring. Lowell also found this amusing and chuckled.

Ron was chuckling because of the sensation on his exposed skin. "I love you…" Ron sputtered out. The man glanced up from his position near Ron's navel and said nothing.

They became a tangled mess of lanky limbs. Ron shifted uncomfortable at the feeling of pain. "It… It hurts," he whimpered, but Lowell shushed him. "Please… I don't want… I don't wanna anymore..."

"Relax. It's okay." There was a pause for some drunken slurred language that even Ron could barely recognize. He thrust slowly, but Ron felt like he was on fire. "Only relax," the man stated once more when Ron reached out to stop him. Ron received only a sloppy kiss as reassurance. After several strokes, Ron found a strange since of pleasure. It rose into his stomach. From there it went to his throat and he let out a load moan. "See," Lowell cooed, "It's not so bad."

As Lowell found release he climaxed in the confines of the boy below him. Ron had found similar release on the man's body as it hung over him. Something felt wrong… A strange stirring in his abdomen. Ron tilted his head to see if Lowell was stroking his stomach, but the man was pulling himself out and away from Ron.

"Did you enjoy it?"

Ron gave a subdued nod. The man stretched and the sudden visible outline adorned his left forearm. Ron knew that symbol from the Quidditch World Cup. It had flashed across the sky and brought nothing but screamed and panic which Ron relived in the boundaries of his mind. He was going to vomit.

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Ron's family all planned on packing up to go to somewhere called Grimmauld Place. Ron had spent the last few days locked in his room. Most of it was spent under his covers with the strong want to cry, but he could not muster up any tears. He was at fault too. He had fallen hard for someone… Someone that wasn't a muggle at all. While most of that night had been a muddled mess of memory he could remember the ending all too well. It had sobered him up enough to know that he had done something unforgivable. He could tell no one. His mother was insistently yelling at him to come down and get ready, but Ron did not move.

When Molly opened the door and saw her son on his side facing away from the door at noon on a Saturday she could tell something was wrong. "Ronnie?"

Ron grunted to at least acknowledge her presence in the threshold of his room.

"Are you coming?"

To her surprise, Ron stated, "No."

She glanced around his room and saw nothing out of the ordinary. It was true that he'd spent a lot of the earlier weeks out in the town. Perhaps that little girl he had been seeing was not there any longer. Maybe he was heartbroken. She sat down at the foot of his bed and placed a hand on his ankle. "You can't stay here by yourself. You need to come with us."

"I don't have to."

Molly glanced back in the doorway to see her husband standing there with a very puzzling look on his usually soft face. Molly glanced back down at Ron before standing up from the bed and walking out. "You talk to him, Arthur."

As Molly went down the steps with a sadness in her eyes, Arthur stepped in and closed the door. This got Ron's attention. He thought that everyone was gone. They were finally going to just leave. He couldn't stand the thought of seeing anyone. He barely wanted to see his family. Ron rolled onto his back and in the corner of his eyes he caught sight of his father.

"Ron, I think we need to talk."

Ron knew it. His father knew the whole time. He father knew he had slept with that terrible man. Ron wanted to disappear. His father's stern gaze suddenly softened and he looked quite upset. "Please tell me that you were not seeing that man…"

Ron had two options… Tell him he had… or hide it a little longer. Ron had gotten so accustomed to the latter that it was easy for him to say. "What man?"

"The one from a few weeks ago. The one who you were with under the umbrella."

Ron shook his head. "Nope. I was having a summer fling. I guess I got too attached… She's gone now."

Arthur stared at his son as if probing him for truth, but when Ron went unmoved and said nothing else Arthur sighed and said, "Promise?" Ron nodded. "Good."