Chapter 7: The Meeting

It was nearly three in the morning, a cold wind chilling Bellatrix to her bones and irritating her even more. Snape was half an hour late, and she kept attracting odd looks due to her wild hair and strange clothing.

Her robes were a shade of deep blue that night, silken with a velvet lining, but they weren't thick enough to keep out the early morning chill. She stomped her booted feet, angrily shooting a curse at a passing cat from under her robes. The cat ran off, hissing.

Suddenly, a figure dressed all in black to blend with the night popped into existence behind her with barely a noise. Dark hair framed his pallid face, which was twisted into a sneer.

"Dearest Bella," he said. "So you've decided to join us."

She responded with a curt, "You're late."

"So I am."

"Yes," she said after a long silence. "I have."

Snape offered his arm. She stared at it blankly, questioning.

"Shall we go?"

Then Bellatrix understood, and a delighted, slightly mad smile broke out across her face. Gripping Snape's forearm, the pair whirled into darkness.