This Can Only End in Disaster [Romulus and Lovino]

(Hehee I stole your silly title bro bro~)

This school was really lovely. Yes, the castle was so big that he somehow found himself in the basement when he thought he was on the top floor, but everyone made mistakes. He would go with that excuse, but the truth was that Feliciano had a horrible habit of wandering off while daydreaming and getting lost. This was to be expected of the boy, but there was one place that he would never get lost during a trip to. The place in question was of course the kitchen. No matter where he was he could always find that area. That was actually Feliciano's favorite part of being sorted into the house of Hufflepuff! The kitchen was so close which meant he didn't have to walk as far for a snack at any given time of the day.

Everyone had access to the kitchen, so it wasn't exactly his secret hiding spot. It just seemed that he spent half his life in here. Feliciano was well aware that it was the job of the house elves to cook all the food of the school, including whatever tickled his stomach's fancy at the moment. This fact didn't change that he loved to cook. House elves made great meals but it wasn't the same as his own cooking. Feliciano was a bit of a pushover, so if told that they could make what he wanted, he often agreed. Truth was that on other occasions where he had cooked his own food, he left a big mess in the kitchen which wasn't too fun to deal with.

That was what Feliciano found himself doing today. He had felt a familiar grumble of his stomach and wandered into the kitchen while practically drooling over his food fantasies dancing in his head. So many delicious things to eat! He might have been walking at the moment, but he was certain he was going to die a sad and hungry death if he didn't get food within his belly in the next few minutes. After much whining on his end, he had reluctantly agreed to let the house elves do their job and cook him food. Sadly this required waiting on the Italian's end.

Feliciano was sitting at a table face down with his arms flattened out in front of him. So hungry. Yes, surely this was the end of him! Silently he prayed to himself that those house elves would bring his food soon. To someone walking in, he probably did look rather dead. He was far from it. He was just a drama queen.

His stomach growled. It roared. It near mewled. Romulus Vargas was near famished. Breakfast had been mere hours before and he did nick some extras to munch on later but those morsels of food, instead of satisfying his hunger, they taunted it. Was there any wonder that the man practically bolted out of his classroom the second the class was dismissed? The week before transformation was the worst, the man had to eat as soon as his stomach demanded it or he'd be outright snappish to everyone around him.

The older Italian found his way to the kitchens in record time despite the fact that his running turned into a swagger when ever someone else was passing him down the halls or on the stairs-he had to keep up appearances after all. He accidentally shoved himself through a haggle of cooking house-elves(usually the creatures were so useful but occasionally, they were more easy to trip on than anything else) to grab a loaf of bread.

Romulus wasted no time in eating it, tearing it in a ravenous manner with his teeth before grabbing some cheese and noticing something. A very familiar head of chestnut hair was in the kitchen. Of course, it wasn't just a head, that would be distressing, disgusting, unsanitary, horrible and an entire arm's length more of horrified adjectives; there was his youngest grandson, his little Feliciano laying face down on the table looking either asleep or dead.

"Hey, Feli-pumpkin," his grandfather walked over to him at the table and gently shook his shoulder, "you okay?"