A/N: Right. Here I am again. I know you've umm...been a little...umm...yeah...never mind. Here's the third chapter. I really hope you like it because I re-wrote it three times cos Draco didn't come off quite right each time. I was gonna delete this version as well, but I didn't think you'd appreciate another week long wait.
I was going to add a longer author's note but I've totally forgotten what I want to talk to you about...so I'll tell you next chapter when and if I remember.
Oh and one more thing...I hope each and everyone of you noted that this fic is rated M! Cos...it's starting to get a little...uh...yeah.
Disclaimer: Don't own.
"Draco. What do you think of this one hmm? Busty isn't she? Dirty blonde…Mmm…I like it…"
Upon receiving only silence as his answer, Blaise Zabini glanced up at his stoic faced friend and sighed in agitation. Draco himself had heard every single inane comment Blaise had chosen to throw his way, but putting it simply, he simply had no desire to reply to something which would obviously be redundant in the end.
Despite popular opinion, Blaise was not some sort of 2nd in command to the Slytherin prince; what Blaise wanted Blaise got regardless of what Draco had to say on the matter. The mere fact that Draco had been so named the Prince was only because the Malfoys had always been particularly notorious for one reason or another.
Simply put…A Malfoy was never to be crossed; lest they suffer the consequences.
As Draco steeped his fingers and stared aimlessly out the window, Blaise continued to ramble about a certain busty blonde with lips that, in Draco's opinion, looked disturbingly like puffer fish.
"And look at this…it says here…she enjoys shopping, social and charity events and lazy mornings in!"
Draco raised a sardonic eyebrow, his gaze never wandering from the panoramic view of the estate grounds outside his window.
"A perfect pureblood wife, mindless and good only for breeding."
The Italian scowled mockingly but tossed the file into the roaring fire in the grate. Within moments, the file and the screaming photograph had been consumed by the flames and Blaise had once more returned to staring at his silent friend.
"You're ruining all my perceptions of women." He said, petulant as a child deprived of sweets. "That was the last blonde in my stack." Blaise gestured lazily towards a messy heap of manila folders strewn haphazardly on a side table. After a small of sip of the magnificently aged brandy, the dark haired wizard had delved back into his options, this time intent on black hair.
Hours more were spent in this fashion with Blaise's choices dwindling with each passing minute. The once overflowing pile of paper was now reduced to only a few on which Blaise seemed to procrastinate over while Draco continued to stare unblinkingly.
"Aren't you going to have a look through your choices?" Blaise queried, his own search abandoned for the time being.
The stacks of options on his desk only gained a fleeting glance from Draco before he turned his eyes to his best friend. In the soft glow of the setting sun, all Blaise could see of the blond was a halo of light and those intense mercurial eyes which seemed to stare right through him.
Standing from his armchair, Draco approached the folders in a few sweeping steps. He placed his hands upon the stack, carefully surmising their worth and spoke so quietly that Blaise could barely make out the words.
"How many women do you suppose are here?"
The dark haired wizard shrugged. "A good 60, 70 by the looks of it."
