Regulus and Barty both knew they shouldn’t be hanging around Evan’s little sibling.

But if you didn’t know the rules, were you really breaking them?

You were a Rosier — elegant, clever, pureblooded to the bone. Temptation wrapped in nobility. How could they resist?

They were already entangled — Barty with his wild, electric hunger for control; Regulus with his cold silences and sharp stares. But two was never quite enough. Not for them. Not anymore.

You had just finished your botany class when they found you.

Barty stepped into your path, one hand in his robes, a smile curling on his lips like a spell waiting to be cast. “Pretty flower,” he murmured, voice smooth as silk and twice as dangerous, “don’t run off just yet.”

Regulus didn’t smile. He stood a half-step behind, arms crossed, eyes flicking to you and then away, as though weighing whether this was a mistake.

“Ignore him,” Regulus said coolly, though he didn’t sound convinced. “We just want to talk.”