Disclaimer: Please see previous chapters.

A/N: Thanks so much for your response to the last chapter! Now, back to where we left them to see what Draco's thinking...

Stolen

Chapter 25: No Big Deal

Well that just figures, Draco said to himself as his door slammed shut abruptly. What a silly, little, mudblood, Gryfindor girl! That's Granger for you: act perfectly normal one moment and then freak out the next. That girl is not all there, he concluded.

Pushing him away was she? Who did she think she was turning him down like that, Draco Malfoy? After all the time he had spent with her, taking her out the first night, taking her everywhere, eating with her every day. He'd been nice for Merlin's sake- actually nice. She's the one who said she wanted to get to know him and he had tried at least to let her do just that. She'd been all too happy to do anything he wanted, very agreeable for a female, until he had come up with idea of getting to know each other in another way. Despite what he was certain she thought, it had not been planned. Shocked, that's what he'd been when she'd accepted his second offer of firewhiskey. He supposed it had something to do with his taunting about cowardice. She was too easy to read.

He had hardly noticed he was touching her until he felt her react to it, clawing softly at his chest like that. What was he supposed to do then? Sure, she'd enjoyed it at first, played along. Then she'd gone all funny, but she'd gotten over it. One wrong move and she became suddenly furious. It was weird the way she menacing when angry. He was no stranger to dangerous women, larger and madder than Granger, but she had made him take a step back when she had snapped at him. Maybe it was because he had fought her, seen her lose her temper before, and he had no desire to be on the receiving end of that again. She had been rude too, refusing to kiss him. It was plainly disrespectful. What did she think; she was too good for him? Overdramatic little…

He'd have none of her sourness tomorrow that was for sure. He had shopping to do anyway as it was. She'd just have to be sulky and resentful all by herself. She'd better behave at dinner in the evening, or he'd be the one to pay for it later. If he was he'd make sure she paid for it too.

All the family would be there and he wanted to look good, impress the lot of them. His father wanted that too, that's why he'd insisted Draco be back before five o'clock. That way he'd have more than enough time to get ready to make their appearance. Unfortunately, he had not been able to talk his mother out of accompanying him of his Christmas errands and what's more, she had further insisted on bringing along that girl. He had hoped to have some time for himself. With a heavy sigh he knocked on Granger's door, dressed to go out on the town.

She opened it, looking at him in surprise. "A bit over dressed for going outside aren't we? She asked with a critical eyebrow raised as she surveyed his tasteful attire. She had apparently already begun her snotty campaign for the day.

"You won't be needing that." He said indicating the coat she carried. "I'm going to be away for the day, Christmas shopping."

"In London?" she queried.

"Yes."

"Shall I dress? I'll only be a minute."

"That won't be necessary."

"Well I can't go into London dressed like this!"

"It won't be necessary because you won't be going."

"Oh." There, he grinned smugly, that would teach her to assume, take his kindness lightly.

"Mother and her guests will be accompanying me. I'll be back in the evening around five to prepare for our family dinner which you will be attending. Do try to look nice Granger. Father wants us to make a good impression on the family and as you are mud-muggle-born they'll be looking for any excuse to find you substandard."

"I'll try." She replied resentfully, putting bitter emphasis on the word 'try'.

"Good. I'll see you at a quarter until eight o'clock tonight."

"Draco," she said softer.

"Yes?"

"I wonder, since you are going into town, if you'd mind maybe picking up a few things-"

He did not allow her to finish. "Let's get one thing straight Granger. I am not you servant. I am not here to entertain you or run your errands."

"Of, of course n-not-" she stammered, taken aback.

Interrupting her again, he sneered, "I have tried to extend certain courtesies toward you it's true, but I am not required to take you everywhere I go, cater to your unpredictable and unreasonable moods, nor pick up your bloody shopping list."

"I know that! I didn't ask you to. I only thought since I'm not allowed to leave this place you might pick up a few of my Christmas things or I'll have no Christmas presents for anyone, including you."

"I didn't ask you to get me anything for Christmas!" he shouted.

"I know," she said, puzzled. "Who asks? I was just going to."

"You were?" he shouted, confused.

"Because it's Christmas." She informed him as if he were daft. He could not feel insulted. He was too shocked and she was at a loss to why. A total loss. They were on different sides of the world, though only inches from one another, he knew. Even though she was angry, they had discussed nothing of exchanging gifts, and they didn't even really like each other she was planning on getting him something for Christmas, just as she had gotten him a birthday present. It wasn't out of guilt, or to win his trust. She just really didn't think people should go without presents on their birthday or Christmas. Crazy Gryffindor.

He masked his softening demeanor with heavy sarcasm. "Oh, and did it never occur to you to ask me to take you Christmas shopping later?"

"Well, no. I didn't think you would."

Now, there was an idea. "Well I might just do that, if your behavior tonight leaves me so inclined."

"And if not?" she asked.

"Send for your things by mail."

"They won't arrive here in time."

"Then I guess you're counting on tonight," he said through clenched teeth. "As am I."

"Alright Draco." She sighed, agreeing to his terms. Legendary smirk fell back into place. "And don't even think about leaving this room today while I'm away."

"Oh really?" she asked, scoffing testily. That girl really did not like being told what to do.

"Yes, really. It's not safe."

"And what shall I do all day?"

Wheeling around to face her once more he shouted, "That is not my concern as I told you before! You think just because I've been nice I'm here for your entertainment?"

"No I don't think that way at all. For days it I who have been at your beckon call, doing whatever you want, getting to know you. I thought we were just spending time together. I thought we were having fun!" she napped, tearfully.

"So did I!" he spat back. Adjusting his gloves haughtily, he became suddenly calm, refusing to argue any further with this ridiculous muggle-born. "I'll see you at eight." He informed her evenly so that she would not forget, and turned to go. He smiled to hear the door snapping shut yet again. Silly girl, what did she think that would solve?

Oh well, he had better and more immediate matters that demanded his attention. Following the stairs to the main hall he made a graceful appearance. Below, his mother, looking beautiful and elegant as ever, waited with her equally exquisite company: Madam Gouge and her daughter Morrissa. If Granger had any idea… He had certainly been tempted to it slip who precisely the mentioned company was just to see if she got jealous. Although it would certainly have proved highly entertaining it may also have proved dangerous. If Granger was ignorant of anything, it was pureblood customs and propriety. She would plainly not approve and any misbehavior from her tonight could ruin everything. He dare not utter a word. In his mind, however, he was free to picture what may have happened had invited Granger along. Thinking on just that, a wide smile stretched his lips as he pressed them politely to Morrissa's hand. Draco and his haggle of ladies left the manor.

This was the first time he had ever really spent time with Morrissa unless one counted an adolescent, customary meeting and occasional chance meeting at public gatherings as quality time. When they had first met and spent that day together, he had tried desperately to impress her and spent most of his time starring at her beauty, waiting on her, and trying to look important. He had shouted at a waiter in the restaurant h recalled in adolescent attempt to look superior and she had been quite amused. Back then, she had represented a challenge; Pansy had been so willing, so flattered by his every move. She did not dote on him, but lured him to pursue her. He had gladly obliged.

She was composed, graceful, cultured. She knew her place, took his arm, followed his lead, and did not speak to servants or those of lesser blood. The very finest was her standard and it fit her well. There was no denying she was staggeringly beautiful. The image of perfection many would say, as her mother did often. Any man in their right mind would be mad not be pleased and beside himself to have her accompany him. Then why, for Merlin's sake, could he not stop comparing everything she did to Granger?

At first it had been a pleasant relief to reflect on the obvious differences of the two young women. Polar opposites, he had sighed contently to himself while holding lightly to her gloved hand as they apparated. He had directed her from shop to shop of his choosing and she had not once asked why, not once! She had not looked at him with reproach a single time either. With her, he was sure of himself. He knew what to expect from her whatever his move, but even as he sighed with relief, he also began to find himself a tad bored. Everything she did was so perfect; even he could not compete with the languid and flawless poise with which she executed every movement. There was nothing to pick on and he hardly felt teasing would be appropriate even in jest. Upon entering the bookstore he prepared himself for a long wait on his companion, but found she had little need for books. It was then he realized that he was too used to that Hermione's company. When he saw a beggar accost them on the streets, he braced himself for the embarrassment of having to drag that man in rags into a tavern to get him fed. Morrissa however, darted across the street and looked to him to do something. A real lady.

Outside of gossip, which he enjoyed for a while, there was little she could speak about. She did not seem fascinated by his affairs, but went asked about her interests she was willing to give him a lengthy spiel about her career as a dancer. She attended the finest school of dance in Paris and had her own private magical tutor. It was impressive, if not exactly his cup of tea. He tried to stop himself from sniggering when he picture Granger attempting a pirouette. Unfortunately, his attempts failed and Morrissa seemed offended by his amusement.

Lunch was terrible dull. The food was apparently not up to her standards and she sent it back twice. He apologized for bringing her there, embarrassed she did not like it, but she insisted it was not his fault that one could not get good help these days. Apart from that, she seemed to have no opinions of her own to speak of, where Granger was poring over with a deplorable excess of them. When he offered her an ice cream as a treat afterward she seemed mortified. She could not possibly be expected to eat anymore after that filling lunch and it would stain her gloves. It was cold outside besides.

When it began to rain she looked not unlike Hermione's cat and he had to insist they go inside. The tea place was stifling and crowded with shoppers trying to avoid the rain. After twenty minutes cooped up with the women Draco knew if he didn't escape soon he may as well excuse himself to the bathroom and take a flying leap out the window. He spotted something that made his day. In the back of the tea room pestering a ministry official was Rita Skeeter. When she looked up he actually smiled.

"Ladies, it you'll excuse me," he said smoothly, rising with kiss to the hand of Morrissa. "I have to pick up a few things myself. I'll be back in a few minutes and we'll be ready to go."

"It's pouring out."

"I'll be fine, mother."

"Don't be ridiculous. You'll catch you death." Morrissa stated plainly. He did not like that. She spoke to him as if, she knew better. As if she was to tell him what to do. He did not like that one bit no matter how pretty she looked. When he caught himself thinking disdainfully that her faultless hair of hers could do with a little more volume and perhaps some frizz he felt like kicking a chair. Imagining their shock and appall, he almost did. He didn't want to give his mother a heart attack for Christmas though.

"I think I'll live." He said with a much civility as he could muster. He was out of there before he could hear any objections about the weather. The air was cold and the water stung his skin, but it was refreshing for him. The cold air was a shock to his body that took away his thoughts momentarily. He needed a respite from those thoughts, God knew. He kicked the mud in frustration.

Something yipped in surprise and what may have been indignation. Draco grimaced at the man sitting dejectedly in the cold mud and rain. Disgraceful beggar. It wasn't his fault, wasn't his responsibility. That man was not his kin. Probably a damned drunk.

"Get out of here, you filthy drunk." Draco spat. The man looked at him, hard. He looked right through him with soft brown eyes. They weren't blood shot and they were not ashamed, dignity in the face of all tragedy. It reminded him of something that Granger would surly bring to his attention. He felt colder then and sick to his stomach.

"I'm not a drunk. Get out of here you pureblood snob of a kid." The man boldly told him.

"No sir. You are not. My mistake."

Draco cast a careful eye around and found himself extending a hand to the man at his feet. The man surveyed him skeptically before taking it. Without a word Draco slipped a few gold coins into his hand and removed his immediately. It wasn't much, no sense found in throwing away money, but it would get him supper and room for the night.

"Have you lost your mind?" the man said, fingering the money in his wet palm but not looking at it.

"Yes sir, I do believe I have." Draco informed him thoughtfully, twice as confused as he was. "Happy Christmas." He walked on before the beggar could ask questions, or thank him, or throw the money back in his face. He had things to do still. He had to pick up one more gift.

He didn't know why he was doing it, no more than he knew why he had given to that poor man in the streets. It wasn't like him. He didn't know the first place to look to find something Hermione would like, the little oddball, but it had just occurred to him that this year Hermione Granger had no parents or family to speak of and no contact with her friends. Consequently, she was going to get nothing for Christmas unless he did something about it. She was turning him into a ridiculous specimen of man, soft and too sentimental. Weak minded. He hated it!

Gruffly, he entered a store specializing in gifts for ladies, one of the most expensive places on Knockturn Alley. It was called "Aphrodite's Hull, enchanting gifts for enchanting women". The man at the door recognized the familiar face of a Malfoy and offered his patron a cigar. Draco took it and examined the merchandise with a critical eye.

"You looking for something for your beautiful mother, young master Malfoy?" he asked politely. "I was just telling my niece here what a lady your mother is, not a more gracious lady there ever was on God's green earth. She is as pretty as any spring flower, is she not?"

That man certainly did go on and on. Father had been short with him on more than one occasion for it. It annoyed him. 'A man who says too much, Draco,' father had told him, 'Gives the impression of thinking too little.'

"That's my mother." Draco told the older gentleman, smiling at the description nonetheless. His mother was certainly a creature of beauty.

Examining the things on the shelves made him realize how useless they all were. For example, if he got Granger a tea set that serves itself with decorative flowers cascading in an imaginary breeze she would certainly look upon him with a mix of gratefulness and confusion. On one hand, she would be surprised he'd thought to buy her something, but on the other she'd be thinking the same thing he was then: when would she ever use that? He thought of a lovely fur coat as he noticed she looked much better out of her plain clothing, but Granger would never wear something that had been slaughtered. He could just see her throwing it back in his face now screeching about animal rights. He had a strong feeling that if he bought Hermione romantic, seducing lingerie she would throw it back at him as well screeching a lot worse than animal rights. He sniggered, considering buying it as a joke.

"See anything you like master Malfoy?" the foreign accent melodiously chimed at him. Hermione would love that voice; would ask Draco where the man was from. He did not know. He had never asked. "I can order something special if you like; have it shipped speedy in time for the holiday."

"What about this?" said Draco, indicating a set of brushes and combs in a glass case. "What do these do?"

"Ah. A very special treasure, I assure you. The handle is ivory, the back gold. Look at the engravings all over it, so intricate, no?"

"Yes, but what does it do?"

"What does it do? Oh! Nothing your mother would need with her beauty, I assure you, sir. This brush you see smoothes the hair as smooth as silk when you brush it and the comb, perfect curls! Oh such curls as you have never seen-"

"And the mirror?"

"The mirror is tricky. It shows its owner how other's see them rather than how they see themselves. It can be perplexing or a blessing, but here is the most important part of the set: the perfume bottle. It replenishes itself and there is not a finer scent in all the world, I can assure you."

"Why what is it?" he inquired in interest.

"That's just it, my lord." The man chuckled, pleased with himself. "It's anything you want it to be." Draco raised his eyebrows.

"Really? That sounds nice." Granger may like that. It was a respectable gift, a female gift. She could tame that bushy hair and that perfume was quite an incredible thing. He was tempted to give it to her tonight for the evening, but that would defeat the whole purpose of it being a Christmas present. He wasn't about to buy something he did not know worked though.

"Let me see it work." He requested, not rudely.

"Of course, my lord." The man called forward his wife and niece he had spoken of. His wife had tight curls put back in a bun and the little girl a bush of hair that would rival Granger. Sur enough, just as promised, the comb curled her hair in perfect ringlets and his wife's hair, after a few minutes of brushing, was smooth as silk. He doused the girl with two squirts of the perfume and Draco leaned over to smell it. Fresh rain and wild honeysuckle, then it was cider as on would enjoy by a fire in the dead cold of winter, then it was- what?!

He fanned a hand and jerked away. The girl's face burned with embarrassment. "Something wrong, sir?" asked the shopkeeper, worried.

"No, not at all. I'll take it. Wrap it for my please mister Pelotz."

"Yes young master Malfoy right away!" he announced with fervor. He seemed quite pleased. No doubt that item was of considerable value.

"How much?" he asked. A gentleman of his standing would never ask before hand, but examining it now he wished he had.

"Two hundred Galleons sir." Draco handed him a coin purse. The man did not bother to count it. He knew the money would be there, all two hundred gold coins. Money wasted on someone who may or may not like and who didn't give to knuts how much anything cost. He was waiting patiently for the gift to be wrapped when a burette in another case caught his eye. Its red was brilliant. It must match Hermione's dress to a tea and may miraculously lend her elegance with its diamonds. That he could give her tonight.

"And I'll take that as well." He said, indicating the burette.

"Yes, sir. Would you like it wrapped as well then?"

"No thank you, just a box please. How much?" asked Draco extending his hand into his inside pocket again.

"No sir, please. Take it as a Christmas gift, for your faithful business."

"Don't be ridiculous. How much for the hair…er… decoration?"

"No charge for you mister Malfoy, please, I insist. Happy Christmas!"

Draco took his packages from the man with a queer look upon his face. "Thank you and happy Christmas."

The rain had turned to snow when he found three lovely blondes outside tea place waving to him. They were ready to return home to get ready and laughed lightly about men not understanding how long it took women to get ready.

"I don't see how you can make yourselves look any more beautiful than you already do." Draco informed them. They smiled gratefully, flattered, but did not blush. Another blonde suddenly joined them.

"Skeeter," Draco acknowledged.

"Out for a little Christmas shopping are we young master Malfoy? But where is your bride to be?"

"I can't bring her with me when I'm shopping for her gifts, can I?"

"Shopping? What did you get her?"

"I can't tell you. She might read it in the paper tomorrow and ruin the surprise."

"Of course. And who this young beauty? A friend?"

"Yes, this is Morrissa Gouge and her mother Clarisse, long time friends of our family."

"I was under the impression Malfoy's only took mistresses after they were married."

"How dare you? You dare accuse me of infidelity and in front of my mother and as well! You truly have no class miss Skeeter. Our conversation, and business with you, has come to an end. Goodbye." That woman had gone too rutting far! He held to his mother's arm and the group apparated on the spot, leaving the shameless reporter with no further words, unless she wanted to print the 'pop!'

Draco and his mother escorted the Gouge ladies home where Draco received a polite kiss on the cheek and was thanked for a lovely day out. She did not mean it. He bid his mother goodbye and all but scurried off to his room to get ready. Contrary to popular belief, he knew exactly how long it took women to get ready. Preparing himself for a night like tonight was no easy feat either. He would have to look even more handsome and charming than normal.

Once he got inside his room he heaped packages on his bed, sighing and stripping off his outer layer of clothes to prepare for his bath. A small box tumbling off the bed onto the floor stopped him dead. The burette.

"Just go give it to her," he snapped at himself. "She can't still be furious. She has to wear it tonight. Still, I could always give it to her later…" Frustrated yet again, he grabbed the box and went straight for her room where he knocked sharply.

"I thought you were coming until eight o'clock. I'm not ready yet!" she squeaked in panic as she opened the door.

"Relax Granger. I just brought you something."

"Brought me something?"

"Yes, as in a gift."

"A gift?"

"Yes have you gone hard of hearing while I was away or been jinxed into repeating everything anyone says?"

She shut her open mouth with a snap. He jabbed his arm forward to hand her the gift. She took the box and he turned to leave, not even wanting to see her reaction. He had just closed his door and removed his shirt when the door flew open again behind him. There was a shrill squeal and he was pounced upon by a hysterical Granger.

"What what is it?" He took her by the arms and, prying off his chest, held her still before him and demanded, "What in the bloody hell is going on?"

"Oh thank you, Draco! Thank you so much. I've ever seen anything so lovely in my whole life. You must have spent a fortune on it. You shouldn't have! Oh but it is gorgeous and it just matches my dress for tonight so perfectly. I can't thank you enough. How did you think of it?" she fluttered.

"Well," he hesitated, taken aback by her enthusiasm. "I just saw it while I was shopping and thought you might wear it tonight. It was-" He was going to say it was no big deal, but he remembered how poorly that had gone so he stopped himself. "It was no trouble." He amended.

"Oh thank, thank you, thank you," she said, hugging him again. "Well, I'll leave you to get ready." She said pulling away with a blush creeping into her cheeks as she suddenly realized his shirt was gone.

"Okay." He responded dumbly "You're welcome." Were those tears in her eyes? Ridiculous. One would think the girl had never been given something nice. Then again, maybe she hadn't. That was embarrassing. Still, it occurred to him, Morrissa did not thank him once all day.

By a quarter to eight he was examining his own figure in his floor length mirror. "Not bad, Draco you devil, not bad at all."

He wrapped on her door a moment afterward. His gut felt light. What he saw when the door opened nearly winded him. Was that the dress? It looked better than it had in the shop window on her slender figure, hugging it tight. Of course, he reminded himself, it had been fitted for her. Per Hermione's modest request, cleavage did not show, but most of her upper chest and collarbone was exposed along with the tops of her shoulders looking alluring. It may be slightly shimmering, if h were looking closely, which he was not. He had never noticed her skin being so flawless before. Even the most unfortunate dog had at least one good feature, he supposed. Her hair, effectively tamed in a way similar to her style for the Yule Ball years ago, fell softly onto those shoulders. Glimmering in her locks and pulled sweepingly to one side was the delicate burette, a scarlet Phoenix with rubies and diamonds shinning in grandeur and grace. Below the soft whiteness of her chest, a light gossamer cloth was draped elegantly across her breast line and under it a red silk corset seamlessly encompassed her tiny waist ending with a large ribbon of gossamer. It widened at the hips and silk gave way to an even darker, blood red in velvet that trailed to the floor and lingered in a small pool behind her. A slit, however, also ran up the side almost all the way to the hip in a manner he suddenly felt far too seductive. It was not an extravagant dress by any means, fairly simple, but it fit her well in all manners. As much as he may hate to admit it, she looked, well, classy. There was an expectant look on her face. Oh yes, she must be waiting on him to stop starring and speak. Good lord, Draco, don't go funny over one pretty girl, part of him told himself. Then again, this wasn't just any pretty girl, another part spoke up. It was Hermione Granger and she looked, well…

His mouth had gone unreasonably dry and his mind incredibly blank. "You look-" he began, but faltered.

"Yes?" she asked, hands wringing nervously, hands that bore white gloves with red decorative trim, the intricacy of which lent further elegance to the ensemble.

"Nice." Articulate, Malfoy.

"Thank you." She smiled, bowing her head shyly. "I tried." She quipped. The smartness of the remark made him more comfortable. "You look dashing." The remark was not sarcastic.

"Well, that's to be expected." He joked. She smiled and the two fell quiet for a moment. What harm could come from paying the girl a reasonable compliment? It was the gentlemanly thing to do and he was a gentleman was he not? She looked pretty and she deserved to know she looked pretty. The last thing he needed was her entering that room with those people unconfident. "Oh, sod it Hermione you look, well, stunning. Absolutely stunning." He blurted. Don't you dare blush Draco Malfoy! He then added happily, "We're going knock them dead!" Smiling wickedly, he took her arm and walked slowly. Hopefully, by the time they made their entrance he face would be a calmer shade than her dress. That would look terrible tacky, he thought.

As they stepped into the hall soft chatter hushed as did the small orchestra. Draco tried not to look too smug as they made their way past the speechless table to the end where they would sit together, opposite his parents. Some of the family had stood in respect at their arrival, some refused to stand. She held herself composedly at his side, following his lead as he waited for his father to sit. When he sat she knew to stay standing until his mother had done so as well. As everyone was seated and meal blessed it soon became apparent that she had remembered everything they had discussed in their tea times together about the proper etiquette of this meal. For once he was grateful for Hermione Granger's quick wit and intellect. He lent her a quick smile to show his approval and she returned it. He could not tell it if was genuine or not, but it hardly mattered.

Draco was quite enjoying his holiday dinner, until something happened that upset everything.

A/N: Well this was quite a lot of Draco... what did you think? Any questions? Ready to what happened? Let me know in a review! As always, thank you for reading.