The two walked in silence, the echo of their footsteps a stark reminder of the empty grandeur of the castle. Draco, still shackled by the invisible ropes of his humiliation, followed Sebastian into the Muggle Studies office, which was far less like a classroom and far more like an elegant, minimalist study, furnished with deep leather and polished, dark wood.
Sebastian waved his hand, dismissing the flickering gas lamps and illuminating the room with a gentle, ambient magical glow that cast the shadows away, preventing Draco from hiding.
"Draco, sit," Sebastian instructed gently, gesturing to a luxurious armchair by a low table. "Would you care for something to drink? A simple glass of delicious, cold pumpkin juice to settle the stomach?" Sebastian offered, his tone polite, almost excessively solicitous.
"If you're truly in a state of distress, I might even make an exception and offer a non-alcoholic Butterbeer—though I assure you, it contains precisely zero magical solutions to your current predicament."
Malfoy remained hunched over, his hands gripping the arms of the chair as if it might float away. He didn't look up, his voice a tight, miserable whisper. "There is no need, Professor. My throat is too constricted for pleasantries right now."
Sebastian leaned back against his desk, assessing the boy. The internal damage is extensive, he noted. This isn't merely the pain of losing a duel; it's the fragmentation of his entire constructed reality. The Malfoy name did not protect him. Blood did not grant him superiority. His inherited arrogance proved to be a liability, not a shield.
If Sebastian simply lectured him on combat skill, Draco would rebel or retreat into self-pity. To fix this, Sebastian needed to appeal to the highest value in the Malfoy cosmology: family and power. A mental illness required a mental cure.
Sebastian pushed off the desk, his posture straightening to one of formal, powerful intent.
"Before we proceed with the uncomfortable reality of your current failure, I require you to answer a multiple-choice question," Sebastian announced, his voice suddenly sharp and serious, shedding the casual professorial tone.
"Do you wish for me to treat you like a child? Meaning, I will deliver a necessary, gentle lecture on the required humility and study habits of a first-year student, before sending you back to your common room with a mild sedative."
Sebastian paused, letting that sink in.
"Or," he continued, his eyes locking onto Draco with cold, calculating intensity, "do you wish for us to have a conversation between adults? A brutal, professional negotiation between two current heirs of powerful pure-blood enterprises—a conversation about power, market share, and survival."
His voice dropped, becoming a low, absolute challenge. "Draco, raise your head. Look me in the eye. Tell me with absolute certainty which path you choose. Choose carefully, because once the choice is made, there is no stepping back into childhood."
Malfoy's breath hitched. Sebastian's words pierced through the veil of shame. Adults. Heirs. Enterprises. This was the language of his father, the true domain he longed to inherit. To be treated as an equal, even in defeat, was a lifeline thrown to his drowning ego. He hated lectures, despised the idea of being treated like an inept first-year.
He slowly lifted his head, his eyes still slightly red-rimmed, but fixed on Sebastian.
"I choose the second one, Professor. The conversation between adults."
"Then understand this," Sebastian countered, his smile vanishing completely. "I am no longer your Professor. You are speaking to the cold, profit-driven mind behind Swann Alchemy. You will see my ugliest, most matter-of-fact side. Our discussion will be clinical, without sentimentality or sympathy. Are you prepared to face that absolute reality?"
Draco hesitated, but only for a fraction of a second. The alternative—being patronized—was intolerable.
"I am sure. I am the Heir of Malfoy."
"Very well, Mr. Malfoy," Sebastian said, now using the formal title as a weapon. "Let us begin your management apprenticeship. Assume your father, Lucius, has suffered a debilitating political misfortune—perhaps he is incarcerated, or incapacitated—and the Malfoy Family Enterprise falls entirely into your hands, effective immediately."
Draco felt a jolt of panic at the imagined scenario, but forced himself to remain stoic.
"What is your three-year growth plan for the Malfoy Family Enterprise? What new market sectors do you prioritize? Do you have an immediate plan to diversify assets beyond Ministry influence? Be specific."
Malfoy swallowed, utterly blindsided. Family business? Assets? His understanding of the Malfoy fortune was limited to the number of sickles his father allowed him for school supplies and the general concept of 'bribing the right people.'
He stammered, trying to hide his blankness. "I… I would maintain the current structures. I trust my father's existing vision. I would focus on stabilizing the current political investments."
Sebastian offered a short, brittle laugh that carried no humor. "Maintain the status quo? I had assumed the Heir of Malfoy had greater ambition than becoming a caretaker for a declining portfolio. I thought you would seize the opportunity to elevate the Malfoy position, not merely cling to survival."
He pressed the first knife in. "Let's address human capital, Mr. Malfoy. When you take over, and you need to scale operations, what is your hiring strategy?"
"Pure-blood employees, of course," Malfoy replied instantly, the one constant in his world.
"And why, precisely, would a competent, talented pure-blood—one with ambition and capital—choose to work for the Malfoy Family, rather than managing their own affairs or, perhaps, building a superior competitor?" Sebastian countered smoothly.
"Even assuming an unlucky pure-blood wizard exists, which sector of the Malfoy enterprise would attract them, given the alternative opportunities in the wizarding world?"
Malfoy's confidence wavered visibly. "Then… then I would hire Half-blood employees. And if necessary, Muggle-borns."
"Ah, Muggle-borns," Sebastian said, his tone turning dangerously cold. "The very students you have historically referred to as 'Mudbloods.'"
Malfoy opened his mouth to protest, but Sebastian cut him off, his words like razor wire.
"Let's be brutally honest. In your eyes, Half-bloods are marginally tolerable maggots, and Muggle-borns are less than worms, undeserving of the breath they draw. Is that not the truth of your conviction?"
Draco flinched, unable to deny it.
"And yet, you expect these 'worms' to deliver their best, most loyal labor to an Enterprise whose Heir treats them with utter, public contempt? You think a minor wage increase is enough to overcome years of institutionalized pure-blood arrogance? You believe their loyalty is so cheap?"
Sebastian leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees, his expression utterly serious. This was the crescendo.
"Mr. Malfoy, twenty years ago, your arrogance might have been survivable. At that time, pure-blood families controlled over ninety percent of the lucrative magical industries. The alternatives for Half-bloods and Muggle-borns were negligible. They had no power; they had no choice. Arrogance was an affordable commodity."
Sebastian paused for effect. "But did you ever consider that everything changed after Swann Alchemy began its reforms? The moment the market received a major disrupter with principles?"
"On one side, you have Swann, the Alchemist, who actively courts and defends all skilled wizards, regardless of birth, building a massive, loyal consumer base. On the other side, you have Malfoy, aloof, demanding loyalty while offering only contempt."
"Now, I ask you a vital market question: What happens the day the Muggle-born and Half-blood employees and consumers unite to boycott the Malfoy Family Enterprise? What happens the day Alchemist Swann publicly declares the Malfoy partnership is detrimental to brand ethics and cuts off the primary supply of modern alchemy? What is your immediate contingency plan to avoid total financial collapse?"
Malfoy's pallor deepened. He remembered his father's tense conversations, the constant reassurance that the Malfoy name was vital to securing political favors for Swann. He knew the truth: the Malfoy fortune was inextricably—and terrifyingly—linked to the steady stream of modern, essential goods from Swann Alchemy.
"That… that's impossible," Draco whispered, his composure breaking. "Swann Alchemy and the Malfoy family are long-standing, excellent partners."
"Partnership is a fickle concept, Mr. Malfoy," Sebastian stated gently, his eyes showing no pity. "It is based entirely on mutual benefit. If the Malfoy reputation—the very thing you cling to for pride—becomes so toxic that it starts affecting Swann Alchemy's bottom line and political stability, do you genuinely believe the partnership will survive? How many competitors do you think are waiting in the wings, ready to offer Swann a less arrogant political front?"
He allowed the terrifying silence to linger, letting the full weight of the financial threat crush Draco's remaining pride.
Sebastian finally leaned forward, his voice softer than before, yet somehow more devastating.
"Mr. Malfoy, you have demonstrated that you are truly not as prepared as your father. At your age, Lucius was already thinking about political expansion and strategic alliances, not merely reciting outdated dogma. If you continue to act as a spoiled, reactionary brat, relying solely on a tarnished family name and an inherited set of toxic beliefs, I guarantee you: the Malfoy Family Enterprise will not survive the next five years."
He straightened up, standing over the boy, demanding a response that could only come from a place of true, desperate ambition.
"I have given you the facts of your political and economic situation. Now, tell me, Heir Malfoy," Sebastian challenged.
"What do you want to do?" "What should you do?" "What will you do?"
Do you think Sebastian's ultimatum worked, or did it just push Draco further into self-pity? Should he focus on teaching Draco some dueling skills right away to rebuild his confidence, or keep applying strategic pressure?