Hermione was nervous when they returned to the manor without a fleshed-out plan.
It was good that the four of them were talking openly now, and that they all seemed more concerned with the overarching issue of muggleborn oppression than their individual interests, and even then, Hermione was at the forefront of their personal worries. However, it was disheartening to come up so empty with alternatives.
Before the weekend came to a close, even Ron had agreed marrying Harry might be the best course of action. The admission turned his face a smidge green.
It was fortunate that Lucius was a rare sight in the manor, and she spent nearly the whole summer holiday easily avoiding him.
If only her streak of luck had continued.
"Do you sleep in the library these days?"
His cool voice lifted her from the world of arithmantic equations, numbers leaving her dizzy and out of context. Hermione blinked rapidly to shake the numbers from her head, then focused on the sounds that'd extricated her.
"No, my lord. I just— I'm studying."
"Studying," Lucius repeated as he approached her little table. The click-and-step rhythm of his steps encouraged her heartbeat to pick up until it was racing when he stared down at her. "Studying. Always studying. And yet, you seem to retain so little. "
The word cut as much as his silver gaze, and she reeled through to figure out why. "M-my lord?"
"Tut tut, Hermione. I thought we'd decided to put to rest that old title."
Her cheeks flared. Ah, she remembered now. It had been so humiliating that she'd chosen to default to the older, familiar ways. "Sorry," she murmured.
"'Sorry,' what? Who ?" he queried as he leaned against the shelf beside her.
"S-sorry, Master Lucius." The words were hardly a whisper.
Had he been a cat with cream, he couldn't have looked more satisfied. His tail would have lashed with relish to match the gleam of his gaze. "Better. Now, what exactly are you hoping to accomplish by studying every hour of the day? I've told you've no need to worry."
"I like studying," she argued gently, worried about provoking the great predator of a man.
He tipped his head, loose platinum hair curtaining to one side. "Yes, but there are other subjects to explore now that you know your place after your education is complete."
The words bubbled up before she could stop them. "Like, what, how to remove a stain from silk sheets?"
"Perhaps." A Gallic shrug was the only indication of feeling. "That may prove useful for you. Though I meant broadening your horizons, silly girl."
"Broadening my horizons? I've taken nearly every subject Hogwarts has to offer. What could I possibly want for?"
He rolled his eyes. "You could learn the Dark Arts." That was the most obvious subject not taught at the school, and she snorted at the thought of her being allowed to learn it.
"Most of the books on the Dark Arts would probably hex me for my blood status."
"If you ask, I could assist you in that regard."
Was this a trap?
It had to be a trap.
She blinked owlishly up at him. "Why?"
"Why am I suggesting this? Why would I allow such a thing? Or why would I help you in it?"
"Any," she said. "All."
Lucius sauntered to the chair opposite her own, as though they were properly negotiating. "If you are to remain with my family, I will need to explore all of your strengths and weaknesses. Not only the ones suitable for polite society."
Her fear that it was a trap only heightened at that. "I don't think I could perform the Dark Arts, not even for the Malfoy family."
"What about for your own?"
The pair of them stared into one another's eyes for a long, heavy moment. His eyes were silver and sharp and cut through to the molten amber core of her so that she felt stripped bare in her mind. She was sure Lucius Malfoy wasn't a skilled enough legilimens to perform on her like this, but he knew her. He'd known her so long, he had to be able to read her like a book at this point.
"I thought—" Her brows twitched and warmth— embarrassment or sadness— rose in her heart. "I thought I wouldn't be allowed to have a family."
Triumph flared before it was quickly quashed by faux sympathy. "Of course, you can have a family, Hermione."
"How? You said—"
"Your family would exist adjacent to the Malfoy line."
The words stirred only confusion.
"Your children would be provided for just as you have been," he crooner. "Isn't that nice? They'll have the best of everything— education, clothing, food, care. All in service to the Malfoy family."
"But if I don't marry, then how would I have a family?"
This exchange was important. It was pivotal. It was the precipice of something, and she was trying desperately to absorb every flicker of his eyes, every movement of his brows, lest there be some meaning there.
"You don't have to marry to have children, Hermione. Really." He chuckled. "Did Narcissa neglect to discuss the topic with you?"
"I know how babies are born," she snapped, then planted her hands over her mouth in self-admonition. Lucius only seemed amused. "I mean, wouldn't it be unseemly? The Malfoy ward having children out of wedlock, oh my. The scandal."
He chuckled, a chilling sound. The darkness around his eyes that indicated lack of sleep seemed to deepen when he stared at her and made her feel somehow hunted. Or perhaps it was that the darkness had started creeping into his eyes. "House elves don't marry to procreate, but such a thing is necessary if the family intends to maintain their service."
"I'm not a house elf," she reminded him.
"No," he agreed. "You aren't."
She turned toward the bookshelf, skimming spines as she racked her mind for a proper response. "So, I'd engage in flings and pop out bastards so that your family would have more muggleborns to serve it?"
"I'd rather thought of reserving that privilege for the few," Lucius quipped.
Her head snapped back so she could gape at him.
"I wouldn't want you to mix with someone who might sully your line. No, if our family is to retain the service of your descendants, any children you bear should reflect improvement in quality."
"Now I'm a crup?"
He shrugged again, and she hated it. "It's no less than we Purebloods do with our own families. It's your mindset that insists it's beneath you."
"It's barbaric," Hermione murmured.
"It's common sense," he said sharply. "Marriage is to ensure bloodline, status, and loyalty. You have status as the Malfoy ward, and your loyalties are our loyalties. We needn't worry about marriage when considering offspring, because I assume you're capable of keeping your legs closed until I've given you permission."
A torrent of blood roared through her ears, her mouth gaping wide, expression slowly morphing to one of outraged incredulity. "I beg your pardon!"
"Oh, do be quiet."
"I do not need your permission to— to—"
His voice dropped deadly quiet, like the hiss of dry scales across the desert, but she could make out every consonant. "You'll find, in fact, that you do."
She was half-raised from her seat, voice stuck in her throat, but his tone made her drop back down.
"You belong to the Malfoy family, Hermione. Surely you remember our last conversation."
She nodded as tears blurred her vision. "B-but Harry said the law—"
"There will be a special vote here soon, and the support for this little law will far outstrip any opposition. As it is, you belong to us until you graduate. The new regulations will come to fruition far before that day." He spoke so calmly, so evenly, and she realized suddenly it was the first conversation she'd had with Lucius Malfoy. There had been individual exchanges in the past, but even the last they'd had in the library it was more like he was taunting her than talking with her.
No, he was actually having a discussion with her, informing her of upcoming changes to her situation. It was strange and off putting all at once.
"That's unfair," she whined hopelessly.
"Yes, but life is often unfair. I daresay it'd also be unfair to have raised you with so little asked in return only to let you take everything we've nurtured to another family with no thought on what you owe."
Hermione drew herself up a touch. "I've performed exactly as intended."
"Yes, I suppose," he agreed again. "But that doesn't negate how much more you've gotten in the bargain. You owe it all to the Malfoy family, and the Malfoy family will reap the benefits."
"Draco will not allow this to stand when he takes over," she countered.
" If ," he stressed in return. "Draco will have children of his own before that day comes. He may very well change his mind. And if he hasn't, I'm sure one of his heirs will have the correct mindset."
She wiped at the spill of tears blotching her cheeks. "He'll never change his mind. He views me as a sister."
"Do you imagine he'll just send you away if he becomes head of the family?" Lucius scoffed. "He wouldn't want to turn out you and your children. I'll make sure of it."
"Setting me free is hardly the same as turning me out. And— and I won't have children like this. I refuse."
The darkness in his eyes further coalesced. "You imagine you'll have a choice. How cute."
"You'd let someone—" she struggled with the words— "force me? No. No. Draco would never— Narcissa would never— you wouldn't dare."
"I would dare a great deal. If you will not come willingly, then, yes, I have no issue using force."
The tears wouldn't stop. "You've known me since I was a child. Could you really just sit and watch while someone— while they— while..."
"Watch? Perhaps not. I've never been much of a voyeur. I'm more of a man of action."
How could he be so unaffected by what he was saying?
"Oh, I see." She chuckled bitterly. "You'll just leave me helpless for him, walk away and not have to see or hear it at all."
A muscle in his jaw ticked, but she didn't see it, eyes glossed with tears as they were.
"I will do what I believe is best for my family, Miss Gra— Hermione. However I feel about your blood, you have undoubtedly influenced my son to become more studious and less spoilt. As you come to your senses, you will see this is a boon for you as well. Surely you remember what Narcissa told you about mistresses?"
"I'm not going to be your mistress , Lord Lucius," she hissed, each word sticking in her throat like sharp, bitter glass. "I'm going to be your servant. Your slave. "
"Think of yourself as a prized pet, if it helps." She sobbed out a laugh. "A pet is treasured so long as it serves its purpose— companion, hunting animal, beast of burden. A pet can take on many roles. And, in a way, a mistress and a pet can be much the same." The man heaved a sigh, then reached over to push a tear-soaked curl from her cheek and behind her ear. The large, cool palm cupped her there for a bare second before he pulled away. "Think on it, and you'll realize this is the best for everyone."
Hermione broke down as the tap of his cane faded from her hearing.
Tom, I think I need your help. There's something happening, and it's all too much to write down. Please, I need to see you.
Notes:
We're truly diving into the depths now.
I've written more than 30k words this month, and decided I'll now take novella and novel length commissions, since I seem to be writing a novel a month anyway lately.
Next month, I have an Ouran High School Club fic coming out. A group of us realized the absolute dearth of dark content in that fandom, so decided to make a college-reader-centric universe with all the guys. I kinda wanna add a Haruhi one later, too. Haruhi is awesome.
Life is going okay enough so far this year. Slow and steady, but slow is smooth and smooth is fast, so...
Thanks for sticking around. See y'all next week!