Disclaimer: Still not mine. Darn it.

It was nearly noon when they finally arrived at the pond. The rest of the Weasleys were resting in the shade. Ron glared enviously at Fred as he sipped at a cold glass of lemonade.

"Why, what's the matter, brother?" George asked as he poured himself a drink. "You look a bit thirsty. Mmm, pity." He raised the glass to his lips.

Before George knew what was happening, Ron had reached over and snatched the glass from his hand. He greedily gulped the sweet liquid until nothing was left in the glass. "Ahh," he sighed, and then he squeaked as the ground suddenly rushed to meet him. Fred and George roared with laughter as he realised what had happened.

"Lizard Lemonade, little bro," Fred crowed. "The latest addition to our all-new summer prank kit."

"You really should learn, Ron," George added as he watched his brother scurry up a tree to escape Crookshanks' pointed claws.

"Fred, George, I told you if you tried out that vile invention on one more person, so help me, I'd—"

George sighed and stretched. "Fine, fine." He carelessly flicked his wand at Ron. "But just so you know, Mum, it's our vile inventions that could help pay for Ron and Ginny's books this year."

Mrs. Weasley pursed her lips but didn't say anything. In fact, ever since she had awakened to find the latest Witch Weekly robes hanging in her closet, she hadn't said much at all about the twins' new business.

Ron suddenly realised that he was much heavier than he had been seconds before. And that was funny—he seemed to be upside-down. Ron understood a second too late. With a strangled yell, he plopped down from the tree branch on which he had been hanging. He stood and dusted himself off. "You bloody… You…" gasped Ron. He charged George and tackled him to the ground.

"Oh, honestly, you two," Hermione chided as she watched the pair roll around on the ground. "Stop being so childish. Quit your squabbling and let's go swimming."

The two boys stopped fighting immediately and jumped to their feet. "Last one in is a rotten potions master!" cried George as he shed his clothes. He and Fred splashed into the water and dove beneath the surface. Hermione and Ginny removed their shirts a bit more demurely, but their 'casual stroll' was really more of a hurried dash.

"Look out below!" a voice yelled from above. Ron looked up and felt his heart flutter. Harry was poised on the edge of a branch with his arms outstretched. His golden-tan chest glistened with beads of sweat. Suddenly, with a smooth and silky grace, Harry leapt off the branch and dove perfectly into the water.

"Nice one, Harry!" Ginny applauded as Harry reemerged. "Where'd you learn to do that?"

Harry grinned and pointed at the twins. "Four weeks to learn, but it was worth it," he admitted.

Fred slapped Harry on the back. "Good job, mate. Couldn't be prouder." He looked back at the shore and then laughed. "Oi! Ron! You like being a rotten potions master, yeah?"

Ron realised he was still standing on the shore. He held his shirt tightly in his hands. He could feel something that… well… He fumbled with his shirt and held it in front of his waist. "Er, I… I'm… still tired, er, thirsty, er… I'm not in the mood now," he finished lamely. He turned and walked briskly to the table. He grabbed a pitcher of water and hurried into the woods.

"Suit yourself," he heard Harry say as he left the lake behind. Was it just his imagination, or did Harry sound slightly disappointed? Well, no matter, Ron had other—er, more pressing issues to deal with now.

Seven minutes, fifty-nine seconds, and ten scratches later, Ron found himself in the middle of the woods. He was tempted to stop and just take care of his problem then and there, but he really didn't want to take a chance of anyone finding him when he was, well…

Ron always felt guilty when he wanked. Or rather, he felt guilty when he wanked and thought of Harry. He couldn't help it, though. After seeing that sweat drip down Harry's chest—down his tan, muscular chest—and soak into the waistband of his swim trunks, well…

It hadn't always been this way, though. There was a time when seeing Harry with his clothes off hadn't done this to him. Granted, Ron had been eleven at the time, and neither of them had really had much to show, but still, that had to count, right? Ron shook his head and pushed his way further through the bushes. Yeah, sure it counted, just like he didn't like Hermione anymore.

That was another troubling thing. Ron had finally come to terms with his sexuality, but that little thing with Hermione just wouldn't go away. He had hoped A History of the Gay Wizarding Community would help him figure it out, but it had only confused him more. "Some wizards prefer both men and women," it read. "However, this author in particular thinks women parts are icky and should be avoided at all costs. Besides, it's impossible to love more than one person."

Well, Ron was used to the impossible happening with his two best friends. He smiled. He could just imagine what Hermione would say if she read that part.

"What?" she would exclaim. "How can he say that? Has he done all his research? Ron, this really isn't a reliable book. How many did you take out of the library? Only one? Really, Ron, you should know better by now. Haven't I taught you anything? Always quadruple-check your sources! Oh, here, give it to me; boys don't know how to do anything right." Then she would take the book from Ron and race to the library, her hips swiveling and her chest bou—

"Oh, bloody hell," Ron said into the empty forest. He stopped walking and dropped his trousers. He couldn't take it anymore; he felt like he would explode. He took one last look around and began to satisfy his urge.

It was the best he had had in a while; all that tension had really built up. As he came, he struggled to suppress a yell. It was too hard; he had to do something. Ron gritted his teeth and let out a muffled, "H-h-h-h-!"

It was as he moaned that he missed the sound of twigs breaking.