Recipe for Me

The Wrong Sort

"Well as I live and breathe, to who do I owe the pleasure," Roman declared striding into the lone compartment. Save for a lump of purple and black.

So much darkness in such a fair package.

Lump didn't respond just staring out the window.

He shrugged. Not like he said get lost or threaten hexes.

He tossed aside the simple black bag to settle next to the sleeping beauty.

Now the boy did notice and snarled at the interloper. Not again.

"Hello there. Had a nice--"

He did look nice in his black and purple striped long sleeve shirt and a head of tousled brown hair. His equally soft eyes gleamed behind his large round glasses. 

"Are you done gaping so you can clear out? Or at the very least get me my bag?"

"Fine, fine but you could at least add a please zebra stripes," he laughed obliging the catty boy. 

"I just don't like uppity jerks thinking they can trounce in wherever they want."

"Well you don't own the compartment either."

"Kind of an unwritten rule to avoid the simmering vampire knockoff."

"Oh honey, you'd be hissss-tory before a real vampire. You're just a bug eyed fledgeling snarling his baby fangs."

"Why are you here?" he groused anger ready to boil. 

Virgil was seriously considering casting a blue fire to melt his skin off.

"Fine. Some people for whatever reason just couldn't take my company. Went sooo far as to draw wands. Savages."

"Too bad."

"I know right."

"I'd've liked to see some magic in action."

Roman gasped and huffed. The sheer audacity of this-- this commoner. Must have been Muggle raised or he'd know better.

"You're not gonna split are you?"

"Nope and purely to spite you crazy hat," he said flicking out his tongue.