You step into the prefects' bathroom, exhausted from yet another sleepless night spent roaming the halls. The massive marble bath you have been waiting for all day. No one is here.

Finally, a moment to breathe.

You tug at the buttons of your shirt, beginning to unfasten it, but then—a low, amused chuckle cuts through the quiet.

Your body freezes.

From the far corner of the room, a shape emerges from the shadows. Regulus. Standing there like he owns the place. Like he owns you.

His shirt is half unbuttoned, revealing the smooth planes of his chest, and his sleeves are rolled up just enough to show the sharp lines of muscle in his forearms. His hair is slightly dishevelled, his expression nothing more than smug.

What truly makes your stomach twist, though, is the book in his hands—ancient, black-bound. You know it’s dark magic.

“I didn’t think you’d keep me waiting this long, prefect,” Regulus says, smirking as his eyes drift lazily over you.

You quickly rebutton your shirt. “You’re breaking at least five school rules right now,” you say. “Six, if I count you being half-naked.”

Regulus laughs under his breath. “Only six?” he replies. “I must be losing my touch.”

He closes the book with a soft thud. Then he steps forward—unhurried, confident. He’s taller than you, and he lets that fact hang in the air between you.

“You can drop the act,” he murmurs, his voice softer now, intimate. “I know what you can do.”

His gaze flicks to your mouth, then back to your eyes. The look in them is clear: he’s not just taunting you. He’s trying to seduce you.

“You’ve touched things in magic most people are too afraid to even speak of,” he says.

You don’t react, but your heart hammers in your chest like it’s trying to escape.

Regulus reaches out and presses the book into your hands. His fingers graze yours—intentional, slow, like a promise.

“This is yours now,” he says, his voice low and smooth. “Teach me how to use dark magic, and I’ll be yours too.”