And then there's life, its enemy.
-- Jean Anouilh
Tuesday, March 14th - Long After Dark
Floor boards groaned and Roman heard the faint telling creak of a door opening seconds before an ancient wrinkled house elf appeared at the top of the small flight of stairs. He moved slowly, carefully holding a goblet.
Roman watched from the pitch black darkness, the only light coming from the candles in the room above.
"Master," the elf acknowledge, its eyes firmly fixed on the small table where it was placing its offering. The elf knew that Master was not fully well yet and prone to fits of temper and its mate had already been severally punished for daring to look upon the Master just last month. There could be no more mistakes.
"Leave me," a harsh voice croaked from the shadows and a pale, clawed hand reached into candlelight to take the goblet full of the foul slop the Ministry provided to nourish the tame creatures of the night on its registries.
Tame, that's what they think of me. They believe I'm content to live my solitary existence wandering amongst the live ones, listening to the blood pounding in their veins and not take what I want. What I need. What I deserve.
He was tempted to throw the goblet at the door the elf had disappeared through but he needed the horrid slop, as much as it galled him to admit it. It had taken nearly a week to make his way back to the safety of his home and his injuries were too severe to allow him to hunt any of the wildlife or vermin, leaving him too weak to do more than keep himself moving.
Blood - real blood, warm and flowing from a willing donor - would speed the healing process greatly but Roman knew he needed to be extremely careful.
I can't give the Ministry any reason to suspect I'm not what they think. Nothing will come between me and my brides.
My fair, sweet Izabel. You were the first. I know you feel the connection, my love.
The dark Rose. My fragile flower.
Daphne, the titan haired beauty who reminded me of a time long before.
We were so close and then those fools -
Roman's hand clenched and the stem of the empty goblet snapped as he remembered the ones who had dared to come between him and his women.
You will pay, each of you. Potter. Lupin. The others. I may not know your names, but your faces are burned into my memory.
Lupin and Potter, your suffering will be - eternal.
Roman dropped the ruined goblet to the floor and closed his eyes as visions of the tortures he would force his brides to inflict upon the men. There was a feral look in his red eyes seconds before he dissolved into mist.