Incomplete

Obsession In All of Its Forms

A/N: Hey y'all. As y'all already know...

Drrrrrrumrooooooll.

I AM BACK.

And I can. Not wait to plunge back into the adventures of an... eclectic... bunch of young wizards. Not the word McGonagall would use I can tell you that.

Be ready for a lot more draaama and a lot more cute fluffiness because Hogwarts and all of you deserves some nice things. 

Without further ado... do leave some comments and especially those lovely, lovely votes.

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Mother married. 

Roman did not like the fellow all that much. 

A well worn predictability at that point. And try as the rabble might, Blaise still sat as the head of the table, intent on his Daily Prophet. 

It was a fact that amused Roman even as he shuffled and wriggled to be free of compulsory tartare and eggplant reduction. 

The Mr. Lyle liked to bare down on Roman as he ate requiring him to challenge stiff upper lip and snide disdain tinged murmurs in return. 

So he gobbled down each and last morsel, using his fork and knife as he would at Hogwarts. 

As double dip, lick utensils. 

Slurping luridly ostentatious at his soup making the new couple both grit their teeth. 

Even Blaise couldn't hide a sly, bemused nod to his brother's action. 

A celebration to be had indeed. 

While in reality such performance served to his own ends. The quicker his family's patience thinned than the faster he would be shunned to his room and more importantly, his luggage.

The letter had come a whole month ago. 

And it was stiiiiiill August. September eternally out of his reach. 

Books all bought, Potions supply and snack things all replenished, and not to mention tokens and relics for his many good friends. That had to go in a carry on tote of some kind. Like Virgil and Logan do with their things. 

"Up straight Roman," Lyle hummed otherwise ignoring his existence. 

Instead he slumped in farther, flicking away globs of purplish veg. 

"No thank you."

"I-- I must have misheard," Mother beamed. "You must have misheard. Surely a lashing isn't needed."

Rather than plead as many others would do in his place Roman joined amongst the laughter of the adults. 

"Well all has been lovely--"

"Sit down," Blaise said and then in a leering croon, "you weren't excused yet. And Inky, would you please afford us some privacy."

And of such point Roman knew he had failed. 

Bowing his head passivity exuded from his body language. Voice condemnatory in his next words. "I apologize."

All would have been well. 

"Then sit down brat. Try and do so properly," Mother hissed. "I swear, you aspire to ruin a good meal."

Except there was still a crackle of malice in his eyes. "For--"

"Mother please," Blaise enunciated in a putrid veneer of sweetness. "You can hardly take responsibility for Roman's missteps. After all, it wasn't you who tended to his needs nor his successes."