Okay, so I was super nervous about publishing this, as I don't think it's very good, but it's been on my iPod for weeks and I figured, hey, just go for it. Apologies for any format/spelling mistakes, it was written on my iPod. Also, I wrote it as slash, but it's very light and could be read as friendship (but what Starkid doesn't ship this?). Without further ado, the fic! Please don't flame! *hides in corner*
"Where are we going again, Quirrell?" Voldemort asked for what must have been the sixth time. "Wally-"
"Wal-Mart, Voldemort. Wal. Mart. We just have to go p-pick up some food and stuff, now that we've found a p-place to live," Quirrell explained, squinting out the windshield against the early-morning sun. "Plus, you can get used to b-being around Muggles, which will be good for you, especially since we're going to b-be living among them."
Voldemort sighed. He'd 'come home' to Quirrell two months ago, and still felt horrible about the six months of hell in Azkaban that Quirrell had gone through because of him. His friend didn't jump at every touch anymore, but he still had a slight stutter (though not as bad as when he'd first got out) and while most of the time he would be normal and happy, Quirrell would sometimes withdraw into himself for hours, usually after a bad nightmare, which always made Voldemort feel extremely guilty. Early that morning, Quirrell had gotten one of his nightmares, so before his best friend could hide inside his mind for the whole day, Voldemort had suggested they go somewhere and pick up some stuff for the apartment they were going to share. He didn't realize, however, that Quirrell had a Muggle-filled place in mind. But hey, if Quirrell could brave the crowds of Muggles in this Wally-Mart, then so could he.
"Voldemort?" Quirrell said, bringing the ex-Dark Lord out of his thoughts. "If you don't want to go, th-that's fine. I know you're not exactly c-comfortable around Muggles, so-"
"Quirrell. Man. Listen!" Quirrell smiled at the familiar phrase. "It's fine. Plus, I'm not letting you pick out the food by yourself! We'd end up with Little Debbie cakes and nothing else."
"That's p-probably true." Quirrell turned on the blinker as the cars in front of him started to move. He turned their small car into the Wal-Mart parking lot. Voldemort was immediately overwhelmed by how many cars were there.
"Quirrell, it's," he checked the car's clock, "seven-thirty in the morning! Why are so many people out already?"
Quirrell laughed as he pulled into a spot. "There are always a lot of p-people at Wal-Mart. They have just about everything, s-so when Muggles need something, they come here."
Voldemort looked around the parking lot at all the cars, imagining all the Muggles that owned them that were now filling the store. He steeled himself and turned to Quirrell. "Okay, let's go in."
They got out of the car and walked in together. Quirrell got a cart from the front that someone had been too lazy to put back and turned to Voldemort.
"Okay, we need curtains, some s-shower s-stuff, lightbulbs, and some other s-stuff we'll think of when we get there."
"And food," Voldemort reminded him. "Lots of food. All we have at the apartment is crackers and those chicken nuggets from last night. And we need a hamper, I'm not having you leave your clothes all over the place like at we need sheets for the bed. It was hard fitting both of us on the couch, even if we're both skinny. I must have fallen off twice!"
"Three times," Quirrell corrected dryly. "It woke me up each t-time."
"All the more reason to get some sheets," Voldemort said, sounding a lot more confident about going in than he felt. Quirrell must have noticed, because he said, "Hey, I know you've had bad experiences with Muggles before, s-so have I, but not everyone's like your family. Give people a chance! You might be s-surprised."
"Fine, let's go in," said Voldemort reluctantly.
Quirrell smiled. He knew how Voldemort felt about non-magical people, and he was glad his friend was trying to overcome it by coming shopping with him. In fact, if Voldemort hadn't agreed to accompany him, he probably wouldn't have come at all. Quirrell was still paranoid that the Wizard Cops were going to come back, even though he'd served his time in Azkaban, but he felt much safer with Voldemort around. He supposed they'd grown so attached to each other over the past year (no pun intended) that being together gave them a sense of security. He knew Voldemort would have his back no matter what happened (again, no pun intended) and with that thought in mind, he gripped the buggy handle and said, "Come on then!"
"Young man?" Voldemort turned around. An elderly woman was the only other person in the aisle, standing about four feet down from him.
"Yes..?" He replied, hoping his nervousness didn't show. He hadn't spoken to a Muggle in years. Had she recognized him from somewhere? What if he'd ordered her family killed, or something evil like that? Ugh, he knew he should have gone with Quirrell to pick out curtains!
His anxious thoughts were dispelled as she asked, "Could you reach up there and get me two cans of that soup?"
"Um, y-yeah, sure. There's tomato and chicken noodle, which would you like?" He was doing this for Quirrell, Voldemort said to himself.
Don't freak out.
"Two of the tomato, please. I never could stand chicken noodle soup, even when I was a little girl."
"You don't like the noodles?"
"Oh no, I love noodles."
"You don't like chicken?"
"No, I like chicken as well. I just don't like chicken noodle soup. No one understands, either. They think that since I like what's in it, I should like the whole thing," the old woman confided.
Voldemort's heart nearly stopped. Could it be true? A Muggle who understood him? Heck, a person that understood him? "No, I know exactly what you mean. I hate Snickers. With a passion. I like nuts, and I like chocolate, but I don't like Snickers!"
"Well, isn't it a small world! I never thought I would meet someone who understood!" the woman exclaimed.
"Yeah, my friend doesn't get it, he says I'm just weird, but- oh, there he is now! Hey, Quirrell!" Voldemort said as he spotted his friend, who had just come up to the other end of the aisle. Quirrell walked up to Voldemort and the old woman, trying to smile and hide the anxiety he'd gotten when he couldn't find Voldemort by the cereal.
"Hey, did you find the cereal? I d-didn't see you over there," Quirrell asked Voldemort after he smiled politely at the old woman.
"No, I couldn't find the cereal, but I did find the soup! We can give the caul- er, the pots a good scrub and make it in there. Oh, and guess what? I was just talking to this lady-" Quirrell's eyebrows raised slightly "-and she doesn't find my hate for Snickers strange at all!"
"Really? That's c-cool, I always th-thought he was j-just weird," Quirrell said to the woman, inwardly cursing his stutter.
"Are you ready to check out?" Voldemort asked Quirrell. Quirrell nodded, trying to save himself from another stuttering episode. "Nice to meet you," Voldemort said to the old woman.
"Yes, n-nice meeting you," Quirrell said.
"Yes, it was very nice to meet you also. Now I know I'm not the only one with a strange hostility to a food!"
After checking out (and getting strange looks from the cashier as Voldemort glared at the Snickers bars beside the register), Voldemort and Quirrell carried the bags back to the car together.
"I was really s-surprised that you were talking to that lady by the s-soup in there."
"Yeah, it was actually pretty nice. Maybe not all Muggles are bad," Voldemort said as Quirrell popped the trunk.
"I told you so!"
"I mean, Zefron's a Muggle, and we both know how much of a charismatic humanitarian he is. Not to mention a great actor and singer in High School Musical. I'm glad I can watch the whole thing without being on the back of your head now!" Voldemort said as he waved the High School Musical Extended Edition DVD he'd slipped in the buggy while Quirrell wasn't looking.
"You do know you'll n-need a DVD player to watch that, right?"
"Dammit! Then let's go back in!"
"Voldemort, w-we've got frozens in the car!"
"Too bad! Zefron awaits, Quirrell!"
Quirrell sighed. "Come on, then," he said with less enthusiasm than the first time that they'd gone in. Voldemort made a sound that was dangerously close to a fangirl squeal.
"Just...don't do that again."
