Frankly My Dear
Frankly My Dear
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Title: Frankly My Dear
Author:
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Twisted
Rating: PG-13 (for now but eventually will be NC-17 or
something of that sort)
Disclaimer: Harry Potter is not mine and it is 100% Ms.
Rowling's. (As much as I wish it were to be otherwise). No profit is being made
in borrowing the material.
Paring: Draco/Hermione, Blaise/Hermione,
Harry/Pansy, Balise/Ginny etc.
Synopsis: AU. Takes place during regency. Draco
Hermione is still the bookwoorm. The war against
Boy-Who-Lived. Ron is a nice guy *gasp*. Oh and a marriage law thing.
Genre: Romance, fluff, marriage law, mystrey
Wordcount: ~466
A/N: I have a plot in my mind. Actually I know my endgames
and all that jazz. It is a slow building romance (if it can be called that).
They will not declare their love for each other in Chapter 3 and then have
babies in Chapter 5. Just a little FYI :D because I am
experimenting.
Prologue: A
Major Case of Brooding
The dying embers
in the hearth put up a last futile fight. The struggle lasted little more than
five minutes.
Marquess Draco Socrpius
Malfoy watched the dying embers dispassionately from
his position behind the imposing desk. The dying flame cast his face into a
sinister shadow. The shadow highlighted his high cheekbones in a rather austere
manner. Maybe it seemed rather austere because the blond hadn’t moved from his
chair for a while.
Fuck, he thought. Brooding rather sucks.
He smiled at the thought. He was aware that the smile did not reach what one of
his mistresses had referred to as a molten silver.
Even in his depressed mood he had to snort at that description. Women!
He was aware that his gray eyes were rather unusual but combined with his pale
blond hair it was not much to remark on.
This was not to imply that Lord Malfoy was a humble
man. Oh, no! Draco Malfoy was one good looking
may not be the bravest, smartest, or the most honorable
wizards but by Merlin, they were good looking."Damn
you Malfoys! What the fuck was it about you fuckers
that made women swoon," Zabina had once confided
to Draco. Of course, one had to take into account that the comment had followed
after a witch Zabini had fancied had swooned after
seeing Draco.
Yet..here he sat in his
study and brooded. Brooding for god's sake! What the fuck was wrong
with him? Malfoy did not brood. He sauntered,
taunted, stalked (in a rather sexy term of course), wenched,
drank but he definitely did not brood. It was almost nauseating. Brooding was
for wankers like Potter who thought that if he did
not try to save the world he would pay for it. Or his mentor
his cousin had in what he could surmise a moment of weakness deemed to be a
suitable partner.
Hmm I am getting a pattern here, he smirked. The idiots who
brooded were not good looking. Not to say that they were horrifyingly
ugly but when compared to me they were lacking in the looks department.
But try as he might to shake off his depressed mood he could not. It was
like a stink that followed that no-good Weasel freak. There was nothing he
could do to help it. It was like a constant stomach ache.
He could still see her face.Who the fuck would have
thought that face would haunt him? His reason for this brooding.
The eyes widening with hurt and shock. Her walking away.
His words echoing and bouncing against the walls of the
cathedral.
"Frankly my dear....."