`` heaven's colour . . . [sasha]

[quinn bernard grey]

`` Mr. Q. B. Grey_______________

The common room was quiet, a pair of Seventh years reclining in the corner, their homework fully forgotten as they conversed with easy smiles languishing on their relaxed faces – it was unsurprising that their conversation was the only noise on the cool air of the dungeon room, for classes were in full swing and the time remained firmly in the “school” part of the clock. Being a Sixth year, Quinn had gained the benefit of “study” periods, though very rarely were they used for that (he could lay honest claim to having never spent more than two of them doing actual work – and even then, those were forced upon him in the style of detention for, ironically enough, not having done a piece of homework) – but he maintained that he didn’t need them for that, that was what the wee hours of the night and a snatched thirty minutes before class were for. He had much better things to be doing with his free time, such as right then, indulging in a full double period of lounging upon the couch, staring at the dark ceiling without a thought in his head or care on his shoulders – relaxation was very important, it was said after all.

His eyes were staring unfocussed straight ahead of him, his senses dulled to the room – not that he was worried, no one would dare to have asked him for the space on the couch that his outstretched legs were occupying or have the nerve to take advantage of his non-attentions beyond sneaking by and hoping not to get noticed (even those little Slytherins weren’t safe when he was feeling in a particularly mischievous or sardonic mood). Yet his wand remained close to hand should anyone have tried anything, tucked in between the arm of the couch and the cushion, his arms folded behind his head and requiring only a tightening of his muscles for the wooden instrument to have been clutched between slender fingers. A small smile was tugging at the corners of his mouth, daydream having meandered along to memories of the previous week’s goings-on: the shocked faces danced across the inside of his half-lidded eyes, the squeals of embarrassment and encouraging words battling in his mind for precedence, his own words echoing as he responded to the inevitable interruption of a professor’s tones.

He yawned widely, stretching out his back and neck with satisfying cracks before sinking further into the soft leather of the cushions below him – anyone regarding him would surely have been unable to define him definitely occupying a solid or liquid state, such was his repose and, therefore, level of comfort. His mind ticked across plans for later in the evening: firewhiskey stashed behind the appropriate statue, plans relayed to those concerned, diversions suitably blackmailed. Satisfaction was shown evident upon his face, blue eyes now lazily closed and foot tapping to whatever tune may have been filtering through his subconscious mind. He adjusted the position of his hands, ruffling up his already ruffled blonde hair and allowing the arm to relax along the back of the seat, fingers drumming along in time with the subtle tapping of his foot.

It was good to be king.

STATUS;; done.
WORDS;; five-three-five.
NOTES;; sasha can be in on the plans if she wants... i don't really know what they are or where this is headed but yeah, hope that's an okay intro...
MUSIC;; lizard - d'espairsray.
OUTFIT;; [x].
TAGGS;; ms. s. r. king.