Disclaimer: You know that I don't own Harry Potter or AVPM. I wish I did, but I don't.
Warnings: VERY brief language. Some suggestive dialogue – nothing explicit/detailed. And slash, meaning men paired romantically. :D Don't like, don't read.
A/N: Hello, lovely reader! Kay, so this is my second fic. I'm currently working on a short Quirrellmort multi-chap, but I've had some horrid writer's block. So when this idea for a oneshot popped into my head, I decided to roll with it. Hopefully, I'll be able to update my other fic soon.
Well, read onward to experience light Quirrellmort fluff!
"Goodnight, Quirrell."
"Goodnight."
Voldemort sighed in contentment, lying in bed next to Quirrell. For once in his entire life, his entire existence, every felt right. He was purely, genuinely happy. Not because he was close to destroying Harry Potter, or hatching some evil plan. It was because he was with the one he loved.
Voldemort smiled at the though and closed his eyes, nestling his head into his pillow. A minute or two passed when suddenly, everything didn't feel right. A strange feeling of irritation seemed to be pinching his nerves; it was like he had an itch on the back of his head, telling him something was out of its place. He tried ignoring the feeling, but it kept nudging him, badgering him. He opened his eyes in silent aggravation, and as soon as his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he saw it – one of Quirrell's robes was hanging over the back of a chair.
Oh no. Not this again.
"Quirrell! Hey! Wake up!" Voldemort whispered. "Quirrrrellll!"
He turned over, facing the brown haired man. Letting out on a frustrated sigh, he began shaking his partner. "Quirrell!"
"Hm, wha, oh, I'm awake!" Quirrell shouted, sitting up.
"Quirrell, I thought we went over this!"
"Over what?" the ex-professor asked, an edge in his voice. He was tired. What could be so important that Voldemort had woken him up for?
The ex-Dark Lord gave Quirrell an I-can't-believe-you-don't-even-know-what-you-did-you-should-know-better look. "Your clothes!"
"What?" Quirrell still wasn't understanding.
"Your robes! You left them sitting out! Again! You know that annoys the shit out of me!"
Quirrell rolled his eyes. "Sorry! I was so tired, I must have forgotten! But I had a long day! So please. Let. Me. Sleep!" He dramatically flopped his head back on his pillow.
"Quirrell!"
"I said no! And this time, you can't threaten to eat my pillow, now that we're in separate bodies. Anyways, if you really can't take it, do it yourself!"
"Pleeeeeeeeease?" Voldemort whined.
"Goodnight."
Voldemort huffed. Damn it, Quirrell had actually man-ed up. Though it usually made him even more attractive, this wasn't one of those times.
Then he thought of something. Voldemort grinned mischievously. "Fine. You're right, I can't eat your pillow. But this time, I have something else to threaten you with."
Oh no, Quirrell didn't like the sound of that voice.
"You see, I can deny you something. Something I know you're really gonna want tomorrow night," Voldemort purred seductively.
Quirrell's eyes snapped open in realization. "You wouldn't dare."
"Oh, but I would!" Voldemort smiled devilishly.
Damn him, Quirrell thought. He sounds so sexy when he's threatening me.
A few seconds ticked away, Voldemort looking expectantly over at his lover.
Quirrell sighed. "You really are still evil, you know that?"
Voldemort just laughed. "I suppose I am. But are you gonna put away those robes or not?"
Quirrell pressed his lips together and closed his eyes. He wasn't even that tired now. Not after he mentioned that.
"Fine," he grumbled, pushing the sheets off of him and getting up. "You better be amazing tomorrow, though," he said, putting away his robes and accidentally bumping into a dresser in the process.
Voldemort chuckled. "You know I always am, Quirrelly."
"Quirrelly" rolled his eyes in the darkness, walking back to bed. He laid down with a soft thump and pulled the sheets back over him.
"Thank you," Voldemort told him innocently.
"Yeah yeah, not like I had much of a choice. Your abs are so freakin' hot," Quirrell mumbled.
"Yeah…" Voldemort agreed. "But seriously, I really appreciate it. Even if I had to threaten you into it," he smiled, giving Quirrell a peck on the lips.
Quirrell smiled at him, and they both curled back into bed.
"And," Voldemort said a minute later, "I'm sure that tomorrow night, you'll appreciate it too."
Quirrell smirked, practically hearing the suggestive waggle of Voldemort's eyebrows. Yes, I bet I will.
You know, getting up to put away his clothes wasn't that bad after all.
A/N: So, there you have it! I have to say, I rather like it. But let me know what you think! Please, please, please, leave a review! You can't imagine how happy a simple compliment can make me. :D Oh, and be sure to check out my other fic, "So This Is What Love Feels Like," for more Quirrellmort love! ;) Thanks for reading!