Disclaimer- The characters belong to the one and only, the wonderful JK Rowling. Though the plot is mine.

"BLOODY BUGGERING BASTARD!"

Lord Theodore Nott winced as his usually stoic-faced best friend shouted and slammed the crystal tumbler on the table letting the fine amber liquid slosh over the edge and creating a wet patch on the shiny white tablecloth. He let his mind wander imagining the harried housekeeper sweating, swearing and generally having a minor heart ailment trying to get that stain out. After all, the fifty-year-old damn fine whiskey, which by the way his best friend was imbibing like plain old water left a damn fine stain. And if he wasn't a slimy bastard himself he would have felt pity for the poor housekeeper.

He was pulled out of his housekeeper-pitying musings when something flew towards the general direction of his head and thanks to those fencing lessons his mother had forced upon him to attend during childhood, he ducked at the last moment. The tumbler went flying in the place where his head had been a moment ago, spilling whiskey in its wake like a blood trail after a murder and slammed into the back wall breaking into hundreds of shards of jagged glass. He looked at them, reflecting the candlelight and creating a macabre of ghostly twinkling lights.

"Will you bloody stop it? You could have taken my head off," he said calmly.

With narrowed eyes, he watched his friend who was stumbling and tripping in his drunken haze and he did nothing to help him than leisurely sipping his own spirit.

"That arsehole! Theo, he is six feet under and is still pulling the bloody strings of my life like I am some damn puppet."

Theo sighed. This had been going on for the last one hour.

A frantic looking footman had crashed into his humble abode spouting boloney about the Duke of Wiltshire having taking off on foot after getting blasted drunk and shouting obscenities about digging up someone's grave so that he could kill him again. And just like that the laidback evening he had planned with his mistress went out of the window. Oh, the things one did for their supposed best friends. Since then he had scoured every inch of London searching his friend- the mighty Lord Draco Malfoy, only to find him knee deep, or rather, face deep in whores in one of the London's most notorious whorehouses. No offense, they were beautiful, those soiled doves, and he would have gladly taken up one of those busty red-heads giving him come-hither looks but even he knew that Draco had enough class and understanding of his position than to visit those scandal houses. It had taken him less than a minute to see how sloshed Draco was. So being the kind and generous friend that he was he had forsaken any carnal delight the said red-head would have had provided and dragged the sorry arse of the drunk duke back to the Malfoy Manor. And after three cups of tea laced liberally with liquor and a tumbler of whiskey that was later thrown towards his head, Theo had unfortunately found himself in this position.

"Draco, how about you start from the beginning? Even the honors level knowledge I gained from the university isn't enough to understand your drunken ramblings punctuated with the healthy dose of words that would have made your mother wash your mouth with soap," Theo drawled.

"Three years, Theo. Three bloody long years I slogged over my family estate, spent my own trust fund, and made risky investments that no one of sound mind would have ever made. Now that I am not teetering on the precipice of going bankrupt. Now that I don't have to dismiss servants so that I could make ends meet. Now that I don't have to think hard before buying a damn waistcoat. He just had to extend his gnarled hands from his grave and yank the bloody ground beneath my feet.

I did not spend the last three years of my bloody life killing myself trying to keep the Malfoy name respectable so that he could wrap it up it up like a damn gift with a bow and pass it on to some obscure third cousin who wouldn't know his arse over his head about managing an estate of the magnitude of the Malfoys," Draco seethed.

"So you are telling me that he, who I suppose is your dead father had left your inheritance to the next in line? Forgive me, Draco, but I am finding that a bit difficult to believe.

Your father who, pardon me for saying, was an overzealous bastard about blood purity left all of the Malfoy holdings to someone who wasn't born of his loins."

"Yes, Theo, that son of a bitch might just have done that."

"I suppose your grandmother would take offense to that statement. But weren't you yourself present while your father's will was being read? And I remember you weren't even that drunk that you could have missed something as life-altering as this?" Theo asked, doubt coloring his tone.

He knew that the late duke, Lucius Malfoy was a complete bastard who got off on hitting his own family but he had never imagined him doing something as drastic as taking the inheritance of his own heir.

"Oh, I was present alright when the will was read. Dear father had left me with nearly empty family coffers, a crumbling manor whose upkeep nearly sucked the blood out of me, a bunch of other estates in horrible condition, a staggering debt in myriads of gaming hells, and a horde of whores whose contracts were yet to be fulfilled," Draco nearly shouted.

Theo wasn't worried about the help listening to the conversation and passing it to others over a scandal-filled cup of tea. After all, they were a bunch of loyal tight-lipped staff who knew how powerful the Malfoy name still was.

"So what happened now? How come your cousin is competing for the inheritance?" Theo asked exasperatedly, as Draco was talking in rounds making no sense at all.

"You know my father's flair for dramatics, Theo. When the will was read he had left a tiny condition to be unveiled only when the time was right," Draco replied sarcastically.

"And the right time has arrived, I presume?" Theo questioned already knowing the answer to it.

"Oh yes, Theodore it has," Draco growled.

"So, what is it? I can grasp from your drunken whoring stupor that you now know about this condition?"

"The condition was that if I am not married by my twenty and fifth birthday then all my inheritance would go to the next in line," Draco said before falling onto the chair in a graceless heap of arms and legs.

"But- that's – why? Did he give a reason?" Theo sputtered. It was bad, it was really bad.

"What can I say, my father was a sadistic arse! And yes, he was Lord Lucius sodding Malfoy, so, of course, he gave a reason. The same tripe about how big of a disappointment I am and how he would like to see the Malfoy line continue after his death."

"But your birthday … it's just a month away."

"Oh, thank you, Theo, for remembering. I had forgotten myself," Draco snarled back.

"There is no need to bite my head off, Draco. Your father had ordered to announce it just before thirty days till the time was up?"

"Upon his insistence I had started courting eligible women. And he must have known that I would rather take a bullet than a wife. So he made a last ditch effort to ruin my life as if he hadn't done that already," Draco snarled.

Theo knew what insistence meant in the dictionary of the late duke. It would have meant a blackened eyes and a couple of broken ribs for the duchess, for Draco's mother.

"We need a plan," Theo said with gravity.

In answer, his friend just bared his teeth. His eyes were bloodshot, the once sleeked back fine platinum blond hair had spilled around giving him a maniac look as his gloveless hands ran through them. The waistcoat was rumpled beyond recognition, his once perfectly starched and intricately tied cravat had come undone in one side, and there was a garish stain of mysterious origin on his breeches that Theo had no will to know. God forbid if Draco's valet saw him now he would probably die of shock. This was the worst Draco, Theo had ever seen.

.'.'.'.'.'.'.'.'.'.'.'

Lord Draco Malfoy, the eleventh duke of Wiltshire was always the epitome of gentlemanly behavior. He was renowned for his grace, his wit, his snarky comments, his nose-bleed inducing arrogance and his ability to trace his ducal family-tree back to a century. He was the silver-eyed favorite of the ton. There was not a ball or a garden party he wasn't invited to. And the parties his heavenly presence had graced had become overnight sensations gracing the society gossip pages with ardor. He was the most sought after bachelor of the season and had been since the time he came of age. Wherever he went the slobbering marriage-minded mamas of the ton had pulled down the hem of their daughter's décolletage and pushed them into the path of the said duke, hoping that their daughters became the next Duchess of Wiltshire.

At the age of twenty and one he had come into his inheritance and that too quiet unexpectedly when his father had died of unknown cause. The scandal that would have aroused if the information had escaped that the randy old goat was found naked and dead in his mistresses' bed was snubbed and hushed up with a few well-placed blackmails and a right amount of pounds exchanging hands. For all the London knew, the tenth duke of Wiltshire, Lord Lucius Malfoy had died in his sleep peacefully in his own bed beside his dearly loved wife.

So at the tender age where the heir to the most influential family should be bedding anything that had breasts and a cunt, getting drunk in the finest of liquor that money could buy, and waking up women with no recollection whatsoever of the previous night, Lord Draco Malfoy was racking his mind and his wit trying to make the ends meet. Oh, don't even think for a second that he had led a saintly celibate life. He was a healthy man oozing masculinity and had needs that he took care by tucking a handful of mistresses in almost respectable parts of London and visiting them when his mood strikes. He strove never to be as gaudy as his dearly departed bastard of a father. So unlike him who had bedded any streetwalker he could find, the now Duke selected mistresses on their ability to maintain his privacy. His mistresses were respectable widows, courtesans, and the occasional busty opera singers who knew how the gentry worked.

Draco rubbed his hands on his face trying to rub off the feeling of desperation and the smell of cheap rum along with cheap perfume.

"Are you sure that there is no way around it? Did you tell your legal advisers to find anything, any loophole?" Theo asked.

"What do you think I am? A witless ninny. Of course, I did that. I stood over the shoulder of the bloody advocate and ordered him to read the will till his eyes bled. But the damn thing had no loopholes. What am I going to do, Theo? I … I-" he shuddered with desperation. "For the first time since I became the man of the house, I was able to breathe, Theo. For the first time, everything wasn't about to fall around my ears. For the first time, I was about to live. Just live. Last year the estate manager informed that for once we are going in profit. I had thought of taking a break and just enjoying the things that I have missed in the last couple of years. But now this," Draco finished.

"Draco?" Theo called softly.

Draco raised his head which was getting heavier by the minute and stared at his best friend, his confidant. He was the only one who had known pretty much everything that had transpired in his life.

"Draco, everything will be alright you know," Theo said.

"How, Theo? How?"

"You have worked damn hard to bring back the Malfoy name back to its original glory. And I will be damned if some stupid cousin reaps all your hard work. So the bastard wants you to get married? Then go ahead get bloody married. You are the most sought after bachelor of the ton, Draco. If the word gets out that the Lord Malfoy is looking for a bride, the marriage-hungry mama's will throw their daughters onto you so fast that your head will reel," Theo said.

"But I never wanted to get married. Never!" Draco shouted. All the desperation, anxiety, anger, fury and rage slammed into him like a boulder. He rooted for the tumbler of whiskey and upon realizing that he had already thrown the damn thing against the wall he grabbed the whole bottle and chugged. He drank till his insides were burning and his mind had turned into a sluggish mush. "I had made the decision to never get married, Theo. You know how my parent's marriage was. How my childhood was. I have no plan to bring a woman or a child into this mess."

And therein lay his biggest fear.

Draco watched as Theo got up and came around the table and pulled the bottle out of his unsteady grasp. He laid a solid hand of support in his shoulder. "You are nothing like your father, Draco. Nothing. You have never hit women or a child in your life nor you will in the future. I know that."

Draco knew that but there was always a 'what if' rattling around his brain. What if he was like his father?

He tried to nod but the nausea was so overwhelming that he was sure best friend or not, Theo would have his bullocks if he retched all over his posh shoes.

Theo clapped his hands the loud sound hurting Draco's delicate sensibilities. "Okay, let's get you out of this rut. We need a plan. A plan to get you into a connubial bliss within the next thirty days."

"I have not yet decided to get married," Draco said indignantly.

"Fine be a stubborn arse! Why don't you wrap your bequest and hand-deliver it to your cousin? Which cousin exactly will it go to?"

"That stupid perfect saintly Potter! With his shiny badges and honors for winning the war. He is the heir to the Black family and next in line for Malfoy family." Draco ground out.

"Bloody hell! Potter! Well, then you have no choice but to get married, Draco. Lord Harry Potter is the last man you would want all your legacy to go to. You have been whining for years about how he gets everything with too little effort from his part right from when we all were in school. And after having won the war against the French for the Queen, Lord Potter is now her favorite. No jury will go against the green-eyed golden boy if you contest the will in the queen's court."

Draco closed his eyes all of a sudden feeling tired. Exhausted. "You are right. And how the hell do you know that the bloody git's eyes are green," he sighed.

"I know everything, Draco. Now come back to the pressing matter at hand. What about the younger Lady Greengrass? I still don't know why you broke your courtship with her?" Theo wandered.

"Astoria? Oh hell no! Not that imprudent bint. Not after what she did to Mother," Draco glared back. "And damn you for snagging the better Greengrass sister."

"Oh forgive me dear friend for the blunder. I perhaps should have wailed a little louder and flailed my tiny infantile arms in a huff a little longer while we were being betrothed to each other at the ripe old age of three years so that you could have married her now," Theo said with profusely laced sarcasm.

Draco would have rolled his eyes if he had the energy.

"How about the Parkinson girl?"

"Oh no! I don't even have the stomach to bed her. Have you seen her face? She looks like a pug and the laugh of a hyena. And I would go insane with the amount of inane chatter that escapes her mouth. Besides call me hypocritical but I mandate that the next duchess would be a damn virgin, not someone who had unlocked her legs for the half of the London."

"And Lady Millicent Bulstrode is out too, I assume?"

"Have you lost your mind? Of course, she is out. Theo, she is taller than me and fatter than a cow ready to be slaughtered."

"The younger Weasl-"

"Don't even complete that thought. I will rip my guts out before I even touch a Weasley."

"Draco, stop being a snot. If you go on like this all the well-bred ladies will be finished. It's not like you have to live with them. Just bed them enough times so that you have an heir and a spare, even better, do it in the dark so you won't have to look at them. And after the deed is done put them in some estate with a generous pin money. As long as they can buy their gowns, bonnets, and all those feminine fripperies they will be happy. You can continue as you are doing now. You know how the ton marriages work. Even these women don't expect you to give up your mistresses after marriage. And after a month or so you won't even notice that you are leg shackled with a wife."

Before Draco could say something a slight scratching on the door pulled his incoherent attention. He frowned but gave the permission to enter. The door opened to permit his butler, Winston, who walked in with his soundless steps like a ghost.

Draco had never heard his footsteps and trust him he had tried when he had been a spoiled bored brat of eight. He had dogged him for the better part of the day trying to find the rationality behind his silent steps and peppered him with questions until… until his father had slapped him across the face and reprimanded him not to get friendly with the help.

Winston had been in their family long before he was born. And to Draco, he looked like he hadn't aged at all. There were no lines or wrinkles on his stone-like face probably because he never showed any expression. He had never seen anything other than the polite disinterest on his butler's face.

"What is it, Winston?" he asked as soberly as he could.

The butler looked at him with a blank face as if the sight of the duke shit arsed drunk was nothing different from the usual. He curtsied him and said in a monotonous voice. "My Lord, a lady … without a chaperon has requested your presence. She didn't give a calling card. I have placed her in the blue room and the tea tray shall arrive soon," Winston intoned, his voice wavering slightly at the part calling her a lady. As if he was doubting the possibility of the woman being a lady. A lady who called upon an unmarried gentleman's house in the night and that too without a chaperon.

"Tell her I am busy, Winston. If she wants to call upon, she can come in the morning along with a chaperon."

"I did, My Lord. But the lady insisted. She was a bit distraught," Winston added the last part in an afterthought.

Draco frowned, he knew of no lady who would dare upon to call at this time and that too in the Manor. But nonetheless, he nodded slightly in Winston's direction who then backed out of the room inaudibly.

All his mistresses knew never to call upon when he was in the manor. He generally cut their contract off before they tended to get clingy. He might be a rake, a cad, a libertine of the worst reputation nevertheless he was a gentleman. So he would meet her and if she was one of his mistresses then a parting gift and the end of the contract will the last thing she will get from him. All of them knew how the game was played.

"Your butler is damn frightening. How come he never makes a sound when he walks?" Theo said.

"Devil if I know. It's going to be one of those mysteries that the world has no answer to," Draco answered absent-mindedly. His mind was still stuck in conditioned inheritances, whiskey, and unknown unchaperoned ladies calling upon him in the night.

"You sly dog. I didn't know you were entertaining women in your house and that too with your mother in residence," Theo said shrewdly.

"Sod off, you arse! I don't," Draco bit out. His head was pounding, his poor stomach was revolting, his eyes were gritty as if someone had rubbed sand in the insides of his eyelids and all he wanted to do was let his valet pull his boots off and undo the damn cravat before he fell onto his bed and forgot the whole day like the nightmare it was.

But he couldn't do that like the hundreds of other things in his life.

He had a will to sort out, a marriage to arrange, and a meeting to attend with a distraught lady of questionable reputation whom his ethereal valet had placed in the blue room where nothing was blue. And for this, he needed a lot more aptitude than his slothful brain could procure. So he pulled the bell-pull twice ordering the maid to bring in a fresh pot of tea, which he would strive to drink without tainting it with spirit.

And thus Draco Malfoy closed his eyes and waited for the tea to arrive while Theo hummed a discordant tune in the background which reminded him of the last opera they had attended together. The opera, where later on Theo had sneaked off with the voluptuous singer to spend a drunken night of debauched delights.

The same busty singer had warmed his bed a week later. And Lord Draco Malfoy had learned about her expertise that lay in areas far more than singing

So coming back to this story. This is going to be Regency Era MUG-AU Dramione with Theo/Daphne as side pairing and Harry too, who pops up here and there much to Draco's distress. I will try to not make it too angsty (there will fluff too. So yay!). The English might not sound of that era at places and that fault lies entirely with me (my first language is not English, sorry).

As always constructive criticisms are loved and will be acted upon. AND I AM IN DIRE NEED OF A BETA (for grammar, punctuation, line construction, etc.). So anyone willing please PM me.

And last but not the least, review, favorite, follow and let me know if I should continue this story. Or not.

Love.