Sailing

(Rosier, according to medieval demonology texts, is the patron devil of seduction. He tempts humans to fall in love and causes them to act foolish. )

Evan Rosier enjoyed the Slytherin common room. It was, in fact, his favourite place on the Hogwarts grounds. Murky green light shone dimly from the windows of the dungeon, giving him the pleasant sensation of looking through the portholes of a tall ship. He rather liked the romanticism in the idea of a pirate, and occasionally allowed himself to lounge by the fireplace, picturing himself with salty spray in his hair, expertly maneuvering an expensive ship over dark water against a steel-grey sky.

Sometimes, he added Bellatrix Black to the daydream, where she would lay invitingly across his bed in the imagined captain's cabin. She would wear some sort of barely there, filmy robe, black hair spilling across his pillows and framing her beautiful, aristocratic face. Bella would stretch with a languid, catlike grace and smile invitingly, so different from her icy sister, Narcissa.

If he was feeling particularly decadent, Antonin Dolohov would join her, his fine Slavic features thrown into sharp relief by the wavering aquatic light. He would speak quietly in Russian, all resonant baritone and strong shoulders and pale skin.

Evan liked imagining the way their bodies looked against each other. He pictured Bella's smooth, golden skin, tanned from countless expensive vacations, and her glossy ebony hair, enjoying her body's sharp contrast to the masculinity of Antonin's muscular frame and skin liberally dusted with silvery-golden hair.

And when his daydreams faded into reality, Evan wasn't really surprised. It satisfied him to watch them together in the common room, yin and yang, exuding beauty and power as they kissed casually on a brocaded loveseat.

It really was like steering a ship. He liked the control, the strength needed to cause things to happen.

Control didn't stop in the common room, however. Sometimes, he would watch the Gryffindor seventh-years from across the Great Hall, carefully observing their interactions with quiet amusement. He laughed at the Head Boy and Girl and the way they circled each other, constantly erupting in sparks of temper.

It wasn't difficult, then, to turn the angry sparks into a passionate fire. It provided him with material for several weeks worth of dreams, all red hair and Quidditch-calloused hands.

Just as easily, he manipulated Bella's cousin, blood-traitor though he was, and the golden-eyed werewolf (obviously under the spell of the Black boy already). It was only a matter of days, he knew, before they'd fall into bed together.

Evan particularly liked to imagine them. The werewolf would scratch with his nails and bite just a bit harder than strictly acceptable. It would be rough sex, not like the gentle, vanilla-flavoured variety favoured by the redheaded, beautiful Mudblood and Chaser Potter.

Sirius Black's golden skin would have long, thin red marks marring its glowing perfection (so like his cousin's). Evan thought about that often.

He thought, in fact, about Sirius Black more often than many of his other amusements.

Perhaps it was the way his hair fell into his steel-grey eyes, or his straight nose and high cheekbones. Perhaps it was the air of casual elegance he carried about him, effortlessly chopping Murtlap tentacles with long, graceful hands or waving his wand in Advanced Transfiguration. Perhaps it was even the idea that he was dirty, a blood traitor, Bella's nemesis.

When he thought about it like that, it didn't seem so wrong when he caused Bella to creep into Sirius' room on vacation in Greece. He found, after all, that it wasn't easy to resist the temptation of matching coffee-coloured skin and perfect bone structure and glossy ebony hair.

Evan Rosier, murky green light playing across his face, lay in the Slytherin common room and imagined himself as the captain of a pirate ship.