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Lady Molly Weasley was reading the latest article of Lady Whistledown in the drawing room when she suddenly sat up and gasped.
‘Blaise Zabini, Duke of Gloucester, is rumoured to be gay.’
Every Weasley family turned their head to stare at the youngest boy of the family, Ron Weasley, who was currently trying to make the tallest possible tower of playing cards. He panicked when he glanced up and the whole tower fell.
‘What does that have to do with me?’
‘He might be in want of a husband, dear,’ said Ronald’s mother. ‘And you’re the only child yet to be married.’
She made him sound ancient. He was only twenty. Charlie had only gotten married last year, and he was seven years his senior. And besides that,
‘I’m not even gay.’
Ginny snorted at this.
‘What?’ asked Ron, glaring at her.
‘Do not pretend we didn’t see how you used to look at my husband,’ she said.
‘Or Prince Viktor of Bulgaria,’ added George. ‘Before he went home and took your best friend with him.’
‘With friendship and admiration?’
Ginevra snorted again.
‘Well, even if he is gay, who said he wanted a husband? Men can’t even get married to each other, can they?’
‘The article says numerous lower-class men have been seen leaving his house in the early hours of the morning, never to return again.’
‘See, I’m sure he’s perfectly happy being a rake.’
‘It’s best to try. Before some other member of tonne does.’
‘You just want his money,’ sulked Ron, sinking further into his armchair.
‘I want the best for you, dear.’
The Weasleys weren’t particularly sane on a good day, but Ron had never seen them act like they did for the next four hours, trying to calculate the perfect plan for his first meeting with the duke. Percy had pulled out the blackboard he used to tutor his students and was gesticulating widely as he explained everything to Ron.
After lunch, he set off on his horse for the Zabini Manor. When he was close by, he pulled Errol’s reign to slow him from a canter to a trot, a black blur passing in front of the horse caused him to go full gallop. Ron lost his grip and found himself falling head-first into the Zabini’s perfectly trimmed hedges.
‘Sir? Sir, are you all, right?’
The Duke of Gloucester was running out of his house towards him. He was the most beautiful man Ron had ever seen. And now Ron had scratches all over his body and probably twigs in his hair.
This was not going to plan at all.
The duke bent down to look at him. ‘Can you stand up?’ he asked, offering a hand for Ron to grab.
Ron slowly started to get up, leaning on the duke for support. When he stumbled, the duke caught him around the waist with a ‘woah there, steady’ like he was a horse.
‘My horse is gone,’ Ron said suddenly.
‘I’ll find him,’ promised the duke, currently more interested in helping Ron over to his manor. He led him over to the drawing room, then left to acquire a cloth and some alcohol.
‘Ow!’ said Ron, minutes later, when the duke started cleaning the cut on his cheek.
‘What’s your name?’ he asked, trying to get him to talk to distract him.
‘Ronald Weasley.’
‘Ah, I’ve heard of the Weasleys, big family.’
‘Yes, I’m the youngest brother.’
‘I always wanted to be part of a big family. It’s just me and my mother here.’
‘It looks like a big house.’
‘It is. Oh, I forgot to introduce myself. I’m Blaise Zabini, the Duke of Gloucester. You can call me Blaise.’
Duke. Suddenly, Ron remembered the social hierarchy they were in and darted up to bow to the duke. But Blaise pushed him back onto the sofa by the shoulder. ‘Sit down, you’re probably concussed.’
‘Mother’s going to be so mad at me,’ said Ron, sulkily. Blaise had pushed up Ron’s sleeves and moved onto cleaning the cuts on his arms.
Blaise chuckled. ‘It will be fine. What caused you to fall off your horse?’
‘There was an animal or something. I just saw a black blur and then Errol was running.’
‘Ah, that must have been Nero.’
As if on cue, a black cat entered the drawing room and jumped straight into Ron’s lap. Ron had never met a cat before and wasn’t sure what to do.
‘Hi,’ said Ron in a high-pitched voice, petting the cat. ‘You’re so pretty.’
Nero went to scratch him, and he reared his arm back. ‘Hey, I don’t need any more cuts. I don’t think he likes me.’
‘More than most,’ Blaise laughed. He had finished cleaning Ron’s arms now and looked to his trousers. ‘Now, are you injured anywhere else or is that it?’
‘No, I’m fine,’ insisted Ron, blushing.
‘I don’t want you bleeding out on my sofa,’ he teased.
Ron just glared at him lightly.
‘All right. are you feeling better now?’ he said. ‘I’ll take you home.’
Ron could stand up without feeling faint now, and decided it was time to go home. He and Blaise got in a carriage and rode back to the Weasley house. Blaise got out of the carriage first and held his arm out to support Ron.
‘I’ll visit you in a week to see how you are doing.’
Ginny came racing out of the house. ‘What on earth happened to you? Oh, sorry, hello Your Grace. I’m Ronald’s sister Ginevra.’
‘Hello,’ said Blaise politely. He was clearly amused. ‘Ronald fell off his horse in front of my house and I cleaned him up.’
Ginny looked at Ron pointedly as if to say, ‘did you, now?’. ‘I’ll help Ron to dinner. Thank you, Your Grace.’
Ron turned back to Blaise as he was guided to the door and smiled. ‘Goodbye.’
‘Goodbye,’ he smiled back.
He got into his carriage and rode away.
‘That went awful,’ said Ron, as soon as the front door closed.
‘I don’t know, he seemed smitten with you,’ said Ginny.
‘That was pity. He thinks I’m concussed.’
‘Pretty and concussed.’
‘Shut up.’
Instead of feeling sorry for Ron, the Weasley family spent the next week plotting again when they found out Blaise promised to visit. They found out Blaise was doing Chemistry at university and tried to get Ron up to his level over a span of five days. It did not work.
When Blaise entered the drawing room on a Saturday morning, Ron was sat on a chaise longue, pretending to read a chemistry textbook.
‘Good morning, Ronald.’
‘Good morning, Blaise. You can call me Ron.’
‘How are you, feeling better?’
‘Yes thank you.’
Blaise looked at the textbook Ron had placed on the coffee table when he started speaking with a hint of amusement. ‘What are you reading about?’
‘Dalton’s atomic theory,’ said Ron, reciting what Percy had taught him.
‘And what do you think? Do you believe in it?’
Ron didn’t know science was a thing you could agree or disagree with. ‘Um, yes,’ he squeaked.
Blaise laughed. He must have known Ron was only looking at chemistry because he had found out it was something he was interested in. ‘What do you enjoy doing?’
Ron thought about what to say and unconsciously looked over to the chess table in the corner of the room. Blaise was walking over to it immediately.
‘Knight to H3,’ said Ron, thirty minutes later.
Blaise took Ron’s knight with his queen.
‘Checkmate!’ shouted Ron, checking Blaise’s king.
Everyone in the drawing room shook their heads, except Blaise. Ron had always been a bit too passionate about chess.
‘Sorry,’ said Ron, blushing.
Blaise ignored his apology. ‘I’d like to invite you and your family to my mother’s ball on the 31st.’
When Ron took too long to respond, Lady Weasley stood up. ‘We’d love to go, Your Grace. Thank you for the invitation.’
‘Yes, thank you,’ said Ron, blushing even more.
‘Well, I must go. My mother is arriving today from our Gloucester home. I hope to see you soon, Ron.’
‘Goodbye.’
‘Goodbye.’
‘Ginny was right,’ said Fred, as soon as Blaise was out of earshot. ‘Really smitten.’
The Weasleys had determined that Blaise inviting Ron to a ball meant he was going to ask him to dance. This apparently meant that all Ron’s year of being taught to lead dances was to go to waste as now he had to be the ‘girl’.
Unfortunately, Ron had never been particularly accomplished at dancing anyway. He was forced to practice with Fred and George, who were the most similar in height to Blaise. He’d yet to get through a dance without stepping on their feet.
On Thursday, Ron received a letter:
Dear Ron,
I’ve found your horse, Errol. Don’t worry yourself – he was starving but he’s been fed now. You are welcome to collect him any time this week.
My mother is looking forward to meeting you. Not that I’ve been telling her about you.
Yours sincerely,
Blaise
The Weasleys moved on then from dancing to finding out everything they could about the Dowager Duchess. She was a beautiful woman, much like her son. She’d had seven husbands, all dead long before their time. Some rumoured she’d killed them for their money and titles. Ron couldn’t say he was excited to meet her. What if she didn’t approve of his union with Blaise and killed him? He was getting ahead of himself. They weren’t even engaged.
The next day, Ron hailed a cab to take him to the Zabini’s manor. Blaise answered the door, looking as handsome as ever, and said he take him to the stables so he could see his horse.
A cough echoed from the top of the stairs. ‘Don’t think you can get away from me so easily, son.’
Mrs Zabini was an intimidating woman. Beautiful as she was, her eyes had a coldness that could only be acquired from being widowed seven times.
‘Your Grace,’ Ron said, bowing as Mrs Zabini reached them.
Then, Mrs Zabini smiled, and the light returned to her eyes. She pulled Ron into a tight hug like they’d known each other for years. ‘So, you’re the boy my Blaise has been talking to. For a while I thought Draco Malfoy would be his only friend. I detest that family.’
Ron whipped his head back to Blaise at that. Draco Malfoy? He’d have to ask him about that later. What would Harry think about Ron fraternising with the friend of his mortal enemy?
‘Draco might have been raised to be like them, but I know behind that he doesn’t really believe what they say.’
Blaise almost convinced him, but Ron couldn’t forget the amount of times Draco had called Harry’s mother Lily, or Hermione a ‘peasant’ because they’d married into upper class families.
‘Well, I’ll let you go. I’m sure you’ve been worried about your horse,’ said Mrs Zabini.
‘Thank you, Your Grace. It was lovely to meet you.’
Blaise took Ron to the stables. The Zabini’s had more horses than they could possibly need between the two of them, while Ron’s family could only afford one.
‘Errol!’ shouted Ron, running over when he spotted him and stroking the top of his nose. ‘Never do that again, you clumsy idiot.’
Errol whinnied, like he was offended.
‘Come on, let’s go home.’
Blaise helped Ron lift himself onto the horse and walked with him past the front gates. ‘Don’t fall into any hedges before the next time I see you.’
‘I won’t,’ Ron laughed as he trotted off. ‘Promise. Goodbye!’
‘Goodbye.’
Ron was back at the Zabini Manor the next week, this time with his entire family and their families, for the Dowager Duchess’ ball. He’d been expecting to dance with Blaise, or at least speak with him, but they kept getting interrupted.
Minutes after the Weasleys had walked in, Miss Lavender Brown had forced Ron to do a waltz with her. She huffed when Ron messed it up the second time, mixing up what he was supposed to do for the ‘boy’ and ‘girl’ parts of the dance, and went to stand with Miss Parvati Patil. That seemed to be how she wanted to spend her night anyway.
Ron stood chatting with Harry after that. Blaise spotted him and started to walk over, but someone else had spotted them too.
‘Potter. Weasley. I see Mrs Zabini has taken to inviting the dregs of society to her balls,’ drawled Draco Malfoy. He was trailed by his new fiancé, Astoria Greengrass, a beautiful girl who did not seem to enjoy his immature antics.
Harry retorted back, and so they were in a full-blown argument. Blaise reached them and stood next to Draco, watching them for a while, and then raised his eyebrows at Ron. Ron giggled back, covering his mouth.
Soon, it was getting a bit embarrassing. Especially when Mrs Zabini come over to pull Blaise away to talk to some other noble family. Ginny seemed to feel the same and told Harry she was ready to go home. Ron said he would join them. Once again, the night wasn’t going according to plan.
They told their parents they were leaving, and Lady Weasley looked at Ron with some sadness. They walked to the carriage, and Harry and Ginny got in first. Ron was about to get in too when he heard a shout.
‘Ron! Ron, wait!’ It was Blaise. ‘I’ve been wanting to speak with all night.’
Ron turned to tell Harry and Ginny they could go without him. They both grinned at him. Harry waggled his eyebrows.
‘Hi,’ said Ron quietly, walking up to where Blaise was leaning against the balcony, face lit up by oil lanterns hanging over the manor gardens.
‘Hi.’
They just stood in silence for a few seconds, looking at each other.
‘I’m not a fan of balls,’ said Blaise eventually. ‘Mother ends up dragging me around, talking to all the noble families, and I never end up getting to do what I want.’
‘And what do you want to do?’ asked Ron.
Silence again.
‘Do you want to dance?’ asked Blaise, holding out his hand.
Ron curtsied. ‘Of course, kind sir.’
And then Ron’s hand was on Blaise’s shoulder, and Blaise’s hand was on Ron’s waist, and they were dancing, laughing all the while.
Maybe it was just because they had been so enamoured with each other, but Ron could have sworn they were the only people in that garden. And yet, the next morning’s Lady Whistledown made sure everyone knew what happened.
As usual, the Weasleys went on a rampage, knowing Blaise was probably going to be calling on Ron that morning.
‘I don’t think Ron needs a plan,’ interrupted Ginny. ‘It’s clear that Blaise likes him no matter how many- ‘
Ron shushed Ginny loudly. While his family had been scheming his life away on the other side of the room, Blaise had come into the house and was standing in the doorway, holding a bouquet of red roses.
Ron stared at him in horror. The rest of the Weasleys left the drawing room, closing the door behind them.
‘I’m so sorry, Blaise,’ said Ron, pacing back and forth. ‘I wasn’t trying to trick you, I promise. I really do like you- ‘
‘Ron.’
‘I was never pretending, not really. All the plans my family came up with went wrong- ‘
‘Ron,’ repeated Blaise, walking up to him and holding his face in his hand so he had to look at him. He didn’t look angry or upset, maybe a bit amused.
‘…You knew they were planning everything?’
‘Yes, Ron. When you fell off your horse you said your mother was going to be angry at you. Your sister called me “Your Grace” before I’d even introduced myself. That chemistry textbook you were pretending to read the first time I came here is more advanced than I’ve learned in two years at university.’
‘And you’re not annoyed?’
‘No,’ he said like he meant it completely. ‘I don’t want you to pretend, to impress me. I like you when you’re you. When you’re beating me at chess because you’re passionate about it, when you’re too delirious to act because you’ve just fallen off your horse, when you’re dancing with me without focusing on getting every move right.’
‘Really?’
‘Yes!’ insisted Blaise, as if he wasn’t sure how else he could prove it. ‘Can I kiss you?’
Ron leaned in first and then they were kissing. It was magical.
When they pulled apart to catch their breath, Blaise asked, ‘Whose permission do I need to get to marry you?’
‘My dad,’ said Ron, beaming. ‘And all my brothers maybe.’
Blaise went to leave the room, but Ron pulled him back by his sleeve.
‘Wait, isn’t it illegal for two men to get married?’
‘We can change that,’ said Blaise casually, pecking him on the lips again.
‘Hmm, all right. When we get married, can I have one of those fancy chandeliers you have in your ballroom in my bedroom?’
‘Our bedroom,’ said Blaise, pulling him up closer. ‘And every room of the house if you want.’
‘I thought husbands and wives slept in separate bedrooms?’
His parents definitely did.
‘Then its good we won’t be husband and wife, isn’t it?’ said Blaise, winking, as he went to talk to Ron’s family.
Their ceremony was a small one in the Zabini’s drawing room. Well, as small as any ceremony can be that the Weasley family was invited to. Bill’s daughter, Victoire, was the flower girl. Harry and Draco were the best men for each side, and for once they weren’t glaring at each other.
When it was time for the vows, Ron pulled out the piece of paper he’d written his on. Blaise leaned in with a smug expression and asked, ‘Did you come up with those, or was it Percy again?’