Frankly My Dear

Chapter 1: The Devil’s Own Tongue

It had always shocked yet amused (he was a sick bastard) Lord Malfoy how much people assumed to know about him personally or his personal life.

One of the more amusing rumors had been the one where Malfoy had apparently been found with his britches down to his ankles with a certain lady-if she could be called that- and the said certain lady’s knickers on him. Supposedly, the said knickers were red and particular flattering to his personal family jewels. He had always wondered how the gossip mongers thought he could have put on the knickers with his pants still around his ankles and didn’t hesistate to mention that to those who mentioned this to him.

Yet those who had the honor, or were misfortunate enough if Zabini had a say about it, to claim to know knew that was not the nature of Marquess Draco Malfoy. He would certainly never be caught with a lady or her knickers on him unless he wished otherwise.

The press and the public with their fascination or revulsion of the Malfoy family published a great many tales about the Pureblood heir apparent. If his name alone were not enough to garner the publicity, his good looks alone kept many women stammering and fluttering their pretty eye lashes.

Yet how many countless rumors floated about him none of them ever said anything about one his personality trait that drove those who loved him bonkers. Draco Malfoy was a very fastidious young man.

Fastidious not just in the sense that he was picky, which he was, but that he hated leaving anything undone. He was meticulous to the point of obsession. Oh, it was not apparent to anyone not close to him. Those not close to him either assumed he was just another spoilt lord intent on going through his inheritence or that he was a stupid prat. Yet the meticulous personality of his that made him a perfect future leader for the purebloods.

Malfoy hated leaving anything undone. His Slytherine nature would not allow him to leave a job half done. Nott had once said that if Malfoy had been a muggle (do not ask what happened to the poor bloke when he said this) then the war with the damned French would have been over quicker than a wizard could say ‘portkey.’ Well- actually maybe it might not be as Malfoy was particularly fond of his French brandy.

And because of that precise nature of his sod of a friend, Count Balise Zabini- shirtless and shoeless- was now relegated to nothing more than an actor.

Bloody good-looking of an actor, Zabini thought. “After all- I am Balise Fucking Zabini,” he muttered.

Malfoy smirked. “How kind of you to inform me of a title I had not been aware which you held. I will be sure to remember that. Is that from your mother’s side or your father?”

Feeling as if there were little Americans brats in his brain pounding an anvil, Zabini gritted his teeth. It certanly did not help that Malfoy’s mess was screaming. Fuck if only it was a different kind of screaming that stroked a man’s ego rather than shrivel it.

Right now, his good friend was delivering the final touches to his plan. Draco Malfoy always had a fucking masterplan. The boy would not go piss somewhere without figuring out how it would be the most advantageous to him and uneconomic for someone else.

The bastard, not in a literal term Zabini was ninty percent sure, besides having his plans for everything- yes, everything¬- also had this list. Oh how did he know about thee lists- well he had been told by the sod more than he cared to know.

Zabini could list the top three things, as of last month, which Malfoy regarded as infallible truths.

#1) Being a Malfoy was the best thing that could happen to someone.
#2) Stupidity was something to be hated even more than foolhardy courage.
#3) All the women in his life, well those not related to Malfoy, wanted to be the next Duchess Malfoy, no matter how much they said to the contrary.

Therefore, thanks to a particularly scheming bint of number three Zabini got to display his acting skills. If one could call being shirtless and paraded as the other man skills. The quiver in his best mate’s voice wrenched him from a fantasy of the porcelain neck.

“I trusted you,” Malfoy finished in a shockingly pitiful voice.

If Zabini had not been in on the plan, he would actually believe that the sod’s feelings were hurt. It took all that he had to stop from snorting.

“Drakie, it’s not what it looks like,” Lady Astoria Greengrass interjected.

Zabini did not know he stopped his snort. The picture of Malfoy’s godfather in a pink dress probably did not help as he went into a choking fit.

The couple stopped arguing and looked at him with concern. Well the delectable Lady Greengrass had concern in her eyes while the Marquess merely looked amused and had the gall to arch his eyebrows.

Zabini rolled his eyes. “I am fine. No worries at all. Just dust in the room.”

Malfoy said coolly, “If we are done with your theatrics, Zabini? I would like to get back to the discussion in hand?”

Greengrass blanched. Her cheeks normally flushed prettily with color now had no color. Zabini almost pitied the girl, almost. If she wanted the infamous emerald ring and the title of Duchess Malfoy then she should have been Slytherine enough to understand Malfoy’s game.

However, the only one who could understand Malfoys’ underhandness were the Black women. Nevertheless, considering that the Duchess Malfoy had once been a Black, Zabini did not imagine he would see a women seeing through Malfoy’s nefarious schemes down.

Hell Zabini prided himself to be a sneaky Slytherine but he knew that even having grown up with the prat he still could not fully understand how Malfoy thought.

As if understanding that the title of the future Duchess Malfoy had slipped through her pretty fingers she turned to Malfy with pretty tears in her eyes.

Little belle of the ball...it takes more than tears to move a Malfoy, Zabini shook his head, especially if he planned for you downfall.

“I think it would be best for everyone involved if the incident remained in this room,” Draco smirked.

Greatfully, Lady Greengrass blinked back her tears. Fuck! She was damn pretty. If only she were scheming enough for D.

Zabini flashed her a reassuring smile. “Thanks Malfoy,” he managed, without rolling his eyes.

“Don’t mention it. Now get dressed and let us leave,” Malfoy ordered.

Pretending as if he always put his shirt on with a lady and her ex-beau in presence (sometimes it happened) Zabini strived for a nonchalant look. Dammit, he was not as good with his cravat*. Ah bugger it would have to do.

It was a proof of Draco’s underhandedness that the lady who had just been dumped by the Prince of Purebloods did not even question why she got caught. It certainly did not occur to her that the whole thing had been planned by her precious Drakie to escape unscathed and remain single.

Zabini wondered fleetingly if there was anyone out there who could handle Malfoy’s devious nature.