"He doesn’t love me," Narcissa murmured into her ear, as though she had guessed Hermione's thoughts. "At best he tolerates me. Our marriage was arranged by our parents. He hasn't touched me in years. At first I was jealous, the way you screamed his name. He's never made me scream like that," she said softly. "But tonight, when I saw you crawling for him, when I tasted you, when you were writhing in ecstasy on that table - for that snatcher and Yaxley, no less - I see what he sees in you, sweet," Narcissa said softly. "You are still property, but you belong to him - and so you belong to me. To Draco. I want to move you upstairs, where we can have easier access to you. I want you to serve us all. Not just him."