Disclaimer: I wish I may, I wish I might: own them, but I have no right.

A/N: First and Foremost, let me just say how much I appreciated all the reviews for the last chapter. Thank you so much! That's the most I've gotten for this story yet. I love reviews and I need them! Thanks to you guys, I got over the problems I was having with chapter 8 by starting a new one and it's finished now! As a result, the action seems to be moving a lot faster than I thought it would, but that means less filler chapters. It will still probably be a long story. Let me know what you think about that. That being said...here's Draco.

Stolen

Chapter 4: Draco

Lucius Malfoy took the document to be carried by owl to the ministry immediately. He instructed Hermione to wait there and finish her tea. Things would be finalized, her personal effects retrieved, and then she could move into the manor officially. Until then, they would wait for the reply.

He left the room, and she took her seat once more. Hunched over, rubbing her trembling arms, and sucking in deep breaths, Hermione tried to console herself, while taking these few minutes to drop the act and wallow in a little self pity. It was only a few seconds she was to have to herself, however. The door swung open and she practically leapt to her feet as her fiancee entered the room looking positively livid, and- she nearly gasped to find- positively handsome.

The token smirk was gone, replaced by a face that was set in a stone, cold fury. His grey eyes burned like hot smoke. His body was drawn up to full height and his muscles tightened and rippled involuntarily. His chest was swollen, like an enraged beast's might be, making his heavy breathing obvious. She had never seen him so angry, and yet, she had never seen him look this attractive either. As much as the angry scared her, she had to admit, it made her feel, well, other things as well. Indeed, his form had undoubtedly matured. As she felt a wave of something unfamiliar wash through her, she mentally jerked herself from her immature and over dramatic reaction to a good looking young man. She hoped he stayed oblivious to the effect his true anger had on her. That certainly couldn't help her situation. As it was, he seemed too furious to have noticed, though she wasn't entirely sure that was a good thing.

"So..." he began, but didn't get much farther. "So..."

"How articulately put, Malfoy."

"I want to get one thing clear Granger: this was NOT my idea."

"I know."

"You do?"

"Yes."

"Oh."

"Oh indeed," she sighed and sat back down, hoping he would do the same. She wasn't in the mood to have a row with Malfoy right now. To her great surprise, he promptly shut the door and took the seat in which his father had previously been seated.

Gazing across the table at her intensely, though without the same sort of rage as before, he asked simply: "You talked to Snape, then?"

"Yes," she answered just as plainly. He made no further comment. Instead, with all his usual arrogant demeanor restored, he reached forward, retrieved a tea cup, and sipped absentmindedly. She watched him closely for any sign of emotions, trying to gage how affairs might be for her before the first of September, but she could sense nothing aside from the fact that he was preoccupied.

That was certainly an emotion she could relate to. Even now, a million questions were whizzing recklessly through her mind, but, as she had no desire to talk, she kept them to herself. Eyeing the young man sitting across from her, she noted how uncomfortable he had managed to make her once again. He had the upper-hand here. He knew what was coming where she could not guess. That arrogant face in place, with its aristocratic features, was such a blunt reminder of the pain and humiliation he had caused her at school. How could her anger have slipped her mind? Why had she thought she could pretend to love him? What had she gotten herself into? How could her feelings possibly shift so quickly about him? Why was he looking at her like that? This status quo made her feel like she was taking a test she had forgotten to study for, and that is not a feeling Hermione Granger was comfortable with, nor very fond of at all.

It was nearing the hour mark when Lucius Malfoy re-entered the room, looking not at all surprised to see Draco in there. 'His father must have made him come in here,' Hermione silently mused.

"Well, welcome to Malfoy Manor, Miss Granger. Your things are being taken to where you will be staying. Draco, please escort your fiancee to her room." It was a politeness of necessity, nothing more. However, it could have easily been snarled, so she was optimistic. At least they weren't kicking her around and pulling her by the hair yet.

"Yes, father," Draco automatically replied. He also did not seem surprised to hear of Hermione's visit, so he must have already heard she would be staying as well.

As she snapped back to reality, she found that Draco was standing at the door, looking at her with an expression she had never seen him wear before. He stood at half turn, awkwardly positioned with one arm held at a strange, rigid angle while the other one lay limp at his side. Hermione looked at him questioningly. The two Malfoy men exchanged a glance that could have meant they thought she was an alien. She flushed, realizing that he was extending his arm for her to take it and that the expression on his face was one of expectation. She quickly moved forward and laid her arm on top of his, gently.

He then proceeded to lead her out of the tea room and down the hall. It was a truly magnificent hallway; arched, tall and decorate. There was no carpet, but rather large slabs of lovely marble covered the floor she found herself admiring. They were so well polished that she could see her reflection in them. Then, she realized that they were probably kept that way by harsh slave labor, and, at the memory of Dobby, she turned away from the shiny marble with disgust in the floor, in the Malfoys, and in herself.

The hallway opened up on one side into a sort of entrance hall into which descended a magnificent staircase. The white marble floor here was streaked with black and the walls were of a dark wood where they were not completely covered in tapestries. She recognized one of these tapestries as a family tree, like the Black's in Grimmauld Place. The ceiling was nearly as high as Hogwarts' and she felt awfully self-conscious of her footsteps echoing loudly on the hard floor. A glance told her that Draco did not seem to notice. In fact, he looked rather bored. They began to make their way up the stairs.

Just when she was beginning to enjoy the quieter Malfoy, he spoke: "Like what you see, Granger?"

"It's huge." It was the only thing close enough to a compliment she could allow herself to utter. Besides, it was true.

"It is, isn't it? Size has always been of great importance in the Malfoy family." Ugh.

"I was talking about the manor."

"As was I."

She was sorely tempted to let go of his arm, but then he may get angry with her and leave her to find her room herself. Considering the size of the place, she could very well spend hours looking. Therefore, she thought it better to play it safe and kept a hold on her temper and his arm.

"How has your summer been? I see you've been hard at work." She sounded pleasant enough.

"How's that?"

"You've developed manners."

"I always had manners, Granger, I've just never had a reason to use them around you or your pathetic friends."

"I see. What's changed?"

"We're engaged." He answered simply. It was somewhat disturbing to hear him announce it like that, as if that suddenly made it become real.

"So we are," she sighed. "Does that commitment override your hatred of mud bloods?"

"Yes, but it was close race," came his snide reply. She could not pretend the answer was expected. "It does not, however, erase my hatred of you." The direct insult stung enough to make her grab her arm from him, as if shocked.

"What reason have you to hate me other than that?"

"Well, let's see. You're a friend of my enemy. You're a Gryffindor. You're a know-it-all. You've gotten me into trouble. You saved a beast that tried to kill me. You helped put my father in prison! What else? Oh I know there's something. What was it? Oh yes! You punched me. I think that's enough for now, don't you?"

"Well," she stammered angrily. "Well,"

"Yes?" he turned and waited, looking smug.

"You're a friend of my enemy. You're a Slytherin. You've gotten me into trouble. You made my teeth grow that time. You call me mud blood every chance you get. Oh and what else?" she mocked him. "What was it? Oh yes! You wished me dead!

"Besides, half of those are the stupidest reasons I've heard! They're not even reasons. Who cares if we're in different houses, or our friends don't get along, or that I'm not a pure blood?" she demanded.

He opened his mouth to retaliate. The argument was so reminiscent of their usual school encounters that she half-expected professor Snape or McGonagall to walk up behind them at any moment and dock off house points. So much for being mature adults. She just couldn't seem to keep her bearings when it came to him. Hell, she had punched him.

"Also, just for the record: when I punched you, it was only because you sorely deserved it." She huffed when she finished, out of breath, as he leaned leisurely against the wall on the landing.

"Well, you've really proved my point Granger."

"What? That you hate me?"

"No, my other point: that this engagement is the most absurd idea I've ever heard."

"My God. We agree on something."

"Don't tell me that. You'll give me nightmares."

"I wouldn't worry, unless it happens again."

"Too late; I'm already trembling in fear."

"I'm sure." He seemed content to end it there, and, smirking, turned sharply on his heel and made his way off down one of the corridors. She groaned mentally. Great. He'd left her. About twenty yards ahead, however, he stopped, and looked back at her.

"Why aren't you moving?" he asked, truly puzzled. On the other hand, maybe he hadn't left her. She walked quickly forward and, as she arrived at his side, he turned to the door on the left and opened it. What she saw utterly took her breath away.

The room they were looking into was roughly the size of the Gryffindor common room, complete with a huge fireplace. One wall was taken up completely by a massive set of windows. The giant curtains drawn from these windows, along with the fluffy canopy bed, the mantel piece, settee, and furniture were all of a lovely pink, fading into lavender, fading into magenta, ending in a deep purple. Even more impressive than that was, in place by a writing desk similar to the one in the tea room, a lavish bookshelf just itching to be touched.

Though the room itself could pass for any generic guest room in the manor of a wealthy family, the colors matched her robes and, she recalled at the sight of them, her dress from the Yule Ball. Could that have been intentional? Was the bookshelf another small amount of courtesy, or had it been in there before she arrived? Then again, maybe it was coincidence, or maybe it was to keep her from wandering around the manor, or maybe, and most likely, the room was prepared by a house elf who was of a more thoughtful disposition and the Malfoy's knew nothing of it.

'That must be it,' she concluded. Accident or not, it was quite a room.

"This is where you will be staying. I see your things have been brought up," he said, gesturing towards her trunks set at the base of a wardrobe. "Father has planned to throw us a little party this evening, but that won't be for several hours."

"Party?"

"An engagement party is tradition. It's thrown, arranged, and organized by the parents of the groom-to-be."

"Is it formal?"

"Usually."

"I'm afraid I don't have anything to wear," she was a little embarrassed to admit.

"Don't be ridiculous. Malfoy's always acquire custom gowns, robes, and costumes for each formal occasion. We have an entire ensemble of house elves that are quite gifted seamstresses. Call one to you to help you prepare. I'll warn you though. They're supposed to keep the theme a secret from the both of us until the last minute."

"It's all happening so fast," she let out, breathlessly. "A party this evening? Your father did seem confident that I'd accept, but I had no idea he was this sure."

"Engagement parties are planned out when the first born son is still a child. Even the guest lists are drawn up ahead of time and mostly include family, political alliances, and friends of the groom-to-be's parents. Since it's a surprise for the couple, who they are wouldn't change that or the theme," he summarized for her. "It's also custom to have it on the evening that the engagement is finalized and announced."

"Oh," she stated.

"Oh indeed." he mocked her. She shot him a harsh look, as, smirking, he closed the door behind her. "See you this evening," was all he said.

A/N: I hoped you liked it! It was a tad short, I know. So, party anyone? Please review! Let me know what you liked in this chapter, what you didn't, what you thought of Draco, the party, and/or what you're looking forward to seeing happen next. Also, I have some bad news and some good news. The bad news: I won't have access to a computer for about 5 days. The good news: I have the next chapter all ready to be posted as soon as I come back, so they'll be no delay!