So this is a first of a series of Bellamort drabbles for TuesdayNovember's Times of Day challenge on The Dark Lord's Most Faithful forum. It'll get more Bellamort as it carries on, hopefully – I'm a bit rusty with those two =P oh well, I have Florence for inspiration. Godly stuff. I had to take out all of the lyrics because of copyright, though - so much for sharing…

Enjoy!

Times of day

For this challenge, I want you to set or focus your fic at a specific time, be that either an exact hour (X o'clock) or something more vague, like afternoon. The time can be either a prominent feature, or just a subtle reference, as long as it's included.

And, to return us to our challenge roots, so to speak, the word limits are either 100 or 500 words (give or take a few.)

She'd waited hours to sneak out of the Manor, anxious for the right second and frantic not to let it pass. She ran from the party and across the lawn, discarding her high heels on the way in her nerves-induced thoughtlessness. Barefoot and without a cloak, she materialized in the clearing looking like an eerie thing, white face and hair half-falling from its bun, throwing herself forward with a desperate cry.

Rodolphus caught her around the waist and she stumbled against his chest, the warmth of him, which should have felt reassuring, oddly wrong under her icy hands.

"What an entrance, drama queen," he whispered into her hair, his grip tightening ever-so-slightly, "Merlin, you're cold."

"Where is he?" she panted, feebly pushing him off. "How late am I? I came as soon as I could, I swear – "

"Bella, calm down!" He started laughing, while she stared at him in disbelief. "He's not even there yet."

"He's not?" she whispered.

"No. I told you one in the morning, remember?"

"I don't have a watch." She was starting to shake again.

And Rodolphus laughed once more. "Well that's unfortunate," he taunted, "the Dark Lord is extremely punctual. And he rather dislikes those who fail to imitate him."

"I'll remedy that," she vowed, her heart hammering in her chest. "I'll be there whenever he needs me, I'll never make him wait a second."

"Take it easy, he hasn't even accepted you yet. If he does you won't need the watch," Rodolphus chuckled, "and you won't get a chance to demonstrate your zeal by coming early and making a fuss either. Your wrist burns, you drop everything and join him at once. Simple."

"Simple," Bellatrix agreed, her throat dry. For now it was her insides which were burning and convulsing, her arms itching in the frigid air. She avoided Rodolphus' too warm, too natural embrace and paced the empty space, finding edgy, anxious delight in the extreme sensations, the turmoil of anticipation in her chest. She was feeling something. "What time is it?" she called over her shoulder.

"You're nearly one hour early. Give it a rest," Rodolphus mocked her. Breathing hard, she craned her neck to look for her star. She couldn't find her bearings in the sky. Tiny dots of white light were dancing, racing, twisting across her vision, until eventually she jerked her head, her heart in her throat.

"He's coming, right." Her voice was too high, shrill in the night. Rodolphus smiled. "Overeagerness," he commented. "It'll get you hurt."

"If she cannot control it, certainly," a smooth voice added out of nowhere, "then again, control, like time, is a notion the young need to learn in this world."

Bellatrix gasped despite herself, and then felt keenly how empty of air her chest was, and how she couldn't take a breath, as he stepped forward slowly and she could make out his features. All she'd been waiting for.

His smile was blade-like. "We'll have to change the world, then," he finished.