The holiday wasn't so bad, she thought. She saw the lord of manor maybe twice a week, always at meals, and always because he would be dragging Draco off somewhere before, or had brought him back from a meeting or the like.
It seemed he was finally getting on teaching his son everything needed to eventually take over the family affairs.
Narcissa was glad. Hermione knew the rift between father and son worried her, and the woman could have no other heirs for the man she'd married. Draco was the only Malfoy heir unless Lucius did the unthinkable and cast her aside.
Divorce was rare in the wizarding world, and nearly unheard of among the Sacred Twenty-Eight, but a house scion would do almost anything to ensure the continuance of their line.
Had she worried Lucius would sire a child on a mistress? That was another rarity, but slightly more common than divorce. The child of such a union could be acknowledged if the father so chose.
Hermione didn't lie to herself by imagining the lord was perfectly faithful to his wife, not even before she'd overheard Tom and that awful woman whispering the night of the gala, though infidelity with his sister-in-law was especially repulsive to her youthful sensitivities. Mistresses were an unfortunate part of the heavily patriarchal system.
"If a man is to have a mistress, it is best he does it properly," Narcissa told her when they discussed such things.
"There's a proper way?"
The woman smiled sardonically and sipped her tea. "Oh, yes. There's a proper way for almost everything under the sun."
She nodded and waited for her guardian to continue. This was a lesson, she could feel it, and she sat straighter and folded her hands to indicate her full attention.
"If a man takes a mistress, it is imperative he keep his wife satisfied. She must not feel neglected. Moreover, the mistress should not attend any events where a wife is the appropriate partner."
Did this mean there were events where the mistress would be the proper partner? That was… odd.
"I'm sure you've heard the phrase 'kept woman' used for mistresses?" Hermione nodded and Narcissa continued, "That's an important aspect. You see, a man should only take a mistress if he is affluent enough to provide for her. After all, being a mistress is damaging to one's own marriage prospects. She risks everything by laying with a married man, while the man will be forgiven by society the moment he turns away.
"Thus, having both a satisfied wife and a well-kept mistress is a sign of prestige when it is done correctly. The two should never meet, even if they are aware of one another." Narcissa paused to allow the lesson to sink in. "However, an affair is an entirely different matter."
"How is that?" the girl asked, unable to help herself.
"You see, Hermione, an affair occurs when a married woman takes up with a man who is not her husband. There is rarely forgiveness from society if that comes to light. The only way to handle the situation is to keep it in complete secrecy."
She frowned. "So if a married man and a married woman are caught with someone not their partner, the woman is the only one who pays?"
"The man will undoubtedly lose face as well, but not to the same extent, no."
"But that's unfair," she protested.
"Indeed it is, but that is the way of society," Narcissa conceded.
"Is there no equivalent for the mistress when it comes to women?" she asked after a moment.
"Well," the lady murmured, a sly curve coming to her lips. "When widowed, it is a woman's prerogative to have as many lovers as she wishes. After all, she has played the dutiful wife to its natural end. She has earned her freedom."
"I think," Hermione said after a brief deliberation, "that I'd rather be a widow than a wife or mistress."
Narcissa's laughter was beautifully melodious. "Unfortunately, one must come before the other."
They sipped from their respective cups as the topic unfurled to its fullest in their minds.
"I tell you this, my dear, because of your particular place in society. You are lovely, and intelligent, and will fascinate many men. Of those men, you will have offers to become a mistress. Even should you find a man desirable enough for a relationship, he might be disinclined to publicly wed you. In that case, should you choose to be with him, it's imperative you take full advantage of the system that provides a mistress protection."
She opened her mouth to protest, but Narcissa raised a hand to keep her silent.
"You may fall in love and be unable to wed because of his family, for instance. Do not judge the circumstances, darling, just accept the possibility. Now, in the case you choose to be a mistress, you should insist on certain things.
"The first is a home of your own. You should not be kept in his vacation home in France or some such. The moment he sets you aside, you'd be homeless. No, if he is affluent enough to properly keep a mistress, he should provide you with property of your own you can inhabit in case of the worst.
"Secondly, you should procure from him an allowance. If he wants you to look pretty for him, he should be willing to keep you dressed and pampered. After all, should the relationship end, it is far more likely you will be a mistress again rather than affianced.
"And thirdly, you should acquire a means of gaining independent income, so that you will not be left destitute if your reputation is ruined and you are untouchable."
"That's all… a lot," Hermione murmured.
"Yes." Narcissa laid a hand over the one she had on the table. "But I wish to prepare you for any eventuality. I want you to have options, dear. And know that, whatever your choices, you may always call on me. I am here for you, and I suspect Draco will feel much the same. I can only hope his eventual wife is understanding of the unique friendship the two of you share."
She was genuinely touched by the kindness of this lesson and Narcissa's words, and turned her palm up to squeeze the perfectly manicured hand against her own. "I will do my best to make you proud, Lady Narcissa."
The older woman waved her off. "I do wish you'd dispense with the title, Hermione. 'Lord and 'Lady' is outdated as it is in these modern times. Narcissa is fine, or even Cissa or Cissy. After all, you—"
"Well, isn't this cozy."
Her heart dropped from where it had buoyed in her chest and back to its proper place, if not lower. Of course, Lucius Malfoy would walk in on them while they were having a heart-to-heart.
"Lucius, darling, welcome home" The willowy woman rose to exchange a greeting kiss with her spouse. "Hermione and I were just having girl talk."
His cool gaze struck roved from his wife to his ward. "So I see. Miss Granger."
He's taken to calling her that more often, especially whenever it wasn't just the pair of them speaking, which was so rare as it was.
"Lord Lucius," she rescinded in kind.
Narcissa huffed. "Oh, the pair of you. Ridiculous. Lucius, you have known Hermione since she was a small child. Surely, you can use her first name. And Hermione needn't use such an official title. It's so old fashioned."
"What should she call me then?" He said it playfully, but in the way a knife might play over the flesh in a fight. "Mister Malfoy? No, I suppose that's too distant in the house. Perhaps in public. But not while at home, certainly. Master Lucius?" His eyes shone as he smirked at his wife.
"Do stop with your teasing, my love. Hermione is not a house elf."
Her cheeks had begun burning the moment the word left his lips, the same thought Narcissa voiced passing through her. She was human, a witch. Not only that, but she'd always found the subservience of house elves vaguely off-putting, though she understood there was a deep connection between the elves and the wizarding families they served that she didn't fully understand.
It was humiliating, and the gleam in his eyes made her suspect he was aware of the impact of his statement.
"Well," he said after a beat passed. "If Hermione is comfortable calling me by name, then I suppose it's harmless enough."
She swallowed thickly, moisture from her tea evaporating into her frayed nerves. Comfortable, she most certainly was not.
But Narcissa seemed pleased her husband made the concession, so she smiled and nodded. "If you'll excuse me, I am going to the library. Good afternoon."
Lucius' eyes followed her until she passed through the hall.
"What were you discussing with my wife earlier?"
She glanced up from her book, blinking rapidly as her eyes adjusted to looking beyond the near pages. Lucius Malfoy leaned against a shelf, staring at her with a pale intensity better suited to a leopard than a serpent.
"It was nothing, my lord," she murmured softly.
Lucius tutted and stalked closer, the click of his cane an ominous accompaniment to his footsteps. "You're supposed to call me Lucius now, Hermione. Or did you forget that?"
"R-right." Had her cheeks ever been so hot?
The cacophonous stuttering of a chair being pulled out catty-corner to her own snapped her from her mortification. Lucius was sliding into the seat near her. "Of course, I understand it's quite difficult to be so familiar with your lord and master. You've served my family for a decade, and unlike my family, I have kept an appropriate distance."
She laid the book on the table and smoothed her hands over the extended page. Her heart beat rapidly and heavily in her throat, and she didn't know what she was supposed to say.
"If you are more comfortable calling me master, I would not mind. After all, that's the term human servants use, as well. Isn't that right?"
"Yes, sir," she said at last, hoping that was suitably polite.
Lucius hummed. "I think I'd like to hear it." Her eyes widened to amber saucers. "That way we can ascertain the appropriateness. Here, between the two of us."
She swallowed and licked her lips nervously, wondering if he was serious even though she knew the answer. "M-master Malfoy—"
"Lucius, pet." The endearment was more of an insult, a reminder of her place. "After all, my son shares the same surname. Let us be specific, shall we? Now, again."
The order left no room for disobedience, but she struggled to keep still beneath the ice of his gaze.
"Master Lucius."
He regarded her for a moment, tilting his head as he considered the epithet, then nodded. "Not so terrible, is it?"
"No, sir." She cringed. "No, Master Lucius." It felt somehow more intimate than calling him lord, but also felt debasing despite the truth that it was what a butler might call the one he served. Like it was an acknowledgement of something she didn't want to fully know.
"Now, Hermione." His smile was as sharp as it was saccharine. "If you would kindly inform me as to the discussion between yourself and my wife. I caught something at the end. A conversation about your future options?"
Hermione nodded. "Yes, sir. That's it. N— Lady Narcissa was teaching me about different relationships among the upper classes."
"Relationships as in husband and wife, or perhaps more servant and master?" She could feel the edge of his curiosity prickling against her.
"Yes, but also…" She didn't want to say it, but there was no actual harm in the discussion. It was perhaps a bit sexist, and uncomfortable to discuss with an older man much the way discussing her menses might be. But that was all, right? It was just a little embarrassment. "We discussed mistresses."
His dark brows rose as that, apparently not at all suspecting that particular topic. Thoughtfulness followed surprise, then he nodded. "That was perhaps wise of my wife to teach you. She'd feel it important that you know the treatment of a proper mistress, since I doubt any respectable Pureblood will marry you." When she began to draw up her shoulders, he added, "You needn't worry about that. You will remain in service to the Malfoy family."
A frown flickered across her features as she processed the words. "But once I've graduated, I thought—"
"Yes, I'm sure you had many thoughts. However, legislation will soon pass which states mudbloods are to remain wards of their families until and unless such a time as they are released."
"Well, if I get married and—"
"You'll need our permission to wed," he interjected smoothly. "And should you have children out of wedlock and while in our service, they will be similarly retained."
"But, that's, that's ridiculous," she protested. "Why would the children of a witch—"
"If their mother comes from muggles, then are they not of that same lineage?"
He was so cool about it in the face of her utter disbelief. "Children are not chattel."
"Oh?" Here, his cruel lips curved upward. "Did we not buy you as such? Really, Hermione, I'd thought you were cleverer than this. You've lived in this world for more than a decade, and you're still surprised that we are endeavoring ways to keep your kind in their place?"
The words struck a chord and indignance marched out. "Narcissa will not—"
"Narcissa is my wife and has no say in the matter."
"Draco will—"
Again, his voice cut through her own like a knife through thinnest silk. "Draco is my heir, but he is not yet head of the family. Not for some time, as I am a healthy man and intend to live a long, fruitful life." His eyes narrowed. "Really, Hermione, I had thought you'd be glad. We will not attempt to wed you off, and you needn't struggle to find gainful employment. We will find uses for your talents, and you will remain with the Malfoy family."
"Glad?" she echoed. "I am being told I'm trapped, practically enslaved. What do I care if my needs are met when I'm not free to pursue my own desires?"
Lucius leaned closer. "You should be grateful for the care you've received in my household, girl. We have given you every advantage, and will continue to do so, so long as you remain well-behaved to justify the treatment. Do not test my generosity."
The last was a threat, terrifying in its subtle delivery. She wanted to scoff, but he wouldn't take that well, and she had no desire for a caning.
In place of anger she should feel, sorrow lapped at the edges of her vision. "I—"
She didn't know what to say. She didn't know what she could say, not safely.
Tom. She needed to write to Tom.
"May I be excused, my lord?" she said at last. He wave acquiescence, and she fled his presence.