Lucius' complexion was paler than usual, his silver-blonde hair appearing almost ghostly in the dim light, and his cold gray-blue eyes smoldered with restrained fury. How could Draco have failed to reserve even a modest portion of dessert for him?
Moriarty was only three years Draco's senior, yet in Lucius' eyes, the boy was leagues beyond his son in aptitude, elegance, and cunning. Compared to Moriarty, Draco wasn't even one-thirtieth as formidable.
Lucius' nostrils flared with indignation. If not for his refined aristocratic upbringing, he might have lashed out then and there. He turned his gaze on Draco with silent reproach, already concocting a plan to educate his son properly in the true ways of a Malfoy and a Slytherin.
"Mr. Moriarty, allow me to fetch you a dessert," Narcissa offered, her voice melodic and composed, her smile a practiced mask of politeness. "Forgive me, but I'll need Draco's help. I brought far too many confections."
"Please, go ahead," Moriarty replied with a courteous nod. He clearly understood that Narcissa was creating an excuse to remove Draco from the situation before he further embarrassed himself.
Narcissa gently placed her hand on Draco's shoulder, guiding her reluctant son down the stairs. Draco cast a last look at the table, his pride wounded.
With only Moriarty and Lucius remaining at the golden dining table, silence briefly reigned. Lucius' expression fluctuated between calculation and civility. His sharp eyes had already discerned the potential fortune behind the new broom. He softened his features into a calculated smile.
"If the new broomsticks enter the market before the Quidditch World Cup begins, the profits could be astronomical," Lucius said smoothly. "May I ask, Mr. Moriarty—do you have ties to any broomstick manufacturers?"
His tone was casual, but his intent unmistakable. He was probing. Lucius spoke as if merely offering friendly advice, but he had slipped in a boast, emphasizing his own connections.
"Comet Brooms is a venerable company," Lucius continued, swirling his wine. "Though its influence has waned recently, it's still a sponsor for several national Quidditch teams. Nimbus, however, has been the dominant force for the last decade. Their brooms are favored by most World Cup athletes."
He gave a meaningful glance. "A partnership with Nimbus would guarantee the broom's success. I have excellent relations with the boards of both Nimbus and Comet. Should you require assistance, I'd be happy to offer it."
Moriarty eyed Lucius, recognizing the snake behind the smile. He sipped his tea calmly, replying, "As I mentioned earlier, I've spent the last ten years in China. I've only just returned to Britain. My connections in the wizarding business world are nonexistent."
Lucius' eyes gleamed with concealed triumph. This was his opening. If Moriarty lacked allies, Lucius could easily ensnare him—gain his trust, inject him into his web of influence, and before Moriarty realized it, his revolutionary broomstick would be padding Lucius' vault at Gringotts.
The plan was elegant: leverage his social network, promise support, then manipulate the naïve innovator. All while appearing the helpful elder Slytherin.
Yes… this was true Slytherin style!
Lucius' eyes sparkled. "Let me offer you some guidance, young Slytherin. A lesson they won't teach at Hogwarts."
But before he could continue, Moriarty's lips curled into a subtle smirk. "Lucius," he said, his voice silky, "I possess far more wealth than Nimbus and Comet combined. In fact, I'd wager that even ten Nimbus companies and a hundred Comet companies couldn't rival my fortune."
Lucius' breath caught, but Moriarty went on, unfazed. "I've never been concerned with Galleons. The Slytherin family doesn't barter in petty currency. We pay with emeralds. Always have."
He set his teacup down with a soft clink.
"There's nothing a gem can't buy. And if one isn't enough, two usually suffice. A problem solvable by gems isn't a problem at all. Wouldn't you agree, Mr. Lucius?"
Lucius blinked, his composure wobbling. He had thought himself a master of grandeur—but this? This was a performance. A revelation in wealth and swagger.
This was how a true aristocrat showed off.
Lucius' mind raced. At the next pure-blood gathering, I'll try this…
"My Malfoy estate is overflowing," Lucius rehearsed internally. "I dare say the combined wealth of ten Pansy families and ten Greengrass vaults is still less than ours! And we, too, pay in emeralds!"
But as Lucius snapped back to reality, staring into Moriarty's calm and dominating presence, the flame of confidence extinguished. In the realm of social manipulation, connections were power. But when one had wealth that dwarfed nations, connections became trivial.
Lucius sighed internally. The golden goose was flying beyond his reach.
"You're absolutely right," he finally said aloud, masking his frustration with a forced smile. "Your insight is rare. Wizards, like all men, are susceptible to greed. Though most won't admit it."
"I, however," he continued, placing a hand over his heart with theatrical sincerity, "have always been forthright. Especially with my friends."
Moriarty sipped his tea and gave a subtle nod. "Dear Lucius, the Malfoy family's loyalty has been proven for nearly a millennium within Slytherin."
Lucius straightened, caught off guard but elated by the praise. Perhaps emotional leverage was the better route.
"Yes, yes, our bloodline is deeply tied to Slytherin," Lucius agreed. "And Draco—he will certainly continue that legacy. He'll be a Slytherin too, no doubt. I expect he'll join the Quidditch team as well…"
Lucius paused, gauging Moriarty's reaction. Then, striking with purpose, he added, "If that happens, it would be an honor for him to use your new broom."
Moriarty's smile deepened, amused by Lucius' flattery. This was classic Slytherin behavior—dangle a gift, manipulate desire, and hold all the strings.
And Lucius took the bait.
"I thank you for your generosity on Draco's behalf," Lucius said. "But I cannot let you shoulder the burden alone. No Malfoy lets a friend pay without recompense. Allow me to propose something…"
Lucius leaned forward. "Let the Malfoy family handle promotion. You may not know, but we engage in limited Muggle dealings—discreetly, of course. The Muggles have no idea they're buying from wizards. I've picked up more than a few tricks from their world. Especially in marketing."
Lucius looked pleased, imagining his name associated with the new broom. He even managed to make his shameless ambition look like genuine friendship.
Moriarty chuckled inwardly. Lucius was shifting gears rapidly, like a true political serpent. When wealth didn't work, he tried friendship. When friendship faltered, he offered utility.
This man was a chameleon.
"I truly appreciate your offer, Lucius," Moriarty replied, "but don't forget—the broom isn't mine alone. I co-developed it with Nicholas Flamel."
Lucius froze. The name hit him like a Bludger.
"Nicholas Flamel?" he repeated, voice rising. "Surely you're not giving the French wizards this opportunity? You know they've always coveted British innovation!"
Moriarty nodded gravely. "Indeed, but Flamel may favor his own people. He's stubborn—he's lived over six centuries, after all."
Lucius' mind raced again, gears grinding furiously.
Deal with Flamel? Impossible.
He didn't even know where to begin with such a legendary figure.
But for the broom… maybe… maybe he had no choice.
Moriarty watched the internal struggle unfold on Lucius' face, sipping his tea in calm silence.
It was a lesson in Slytherin style—elegance, manipulation, wealth, and psychological dominance all wrapped in silk.
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