A/N: This pairing came from drawing names out of a hat- idea courtesy of my friend Kirah, to whom this is dedicated. Hopefully you'll find something sincere in all of its crackishness.

Quirinus Quirrell had a conscience. It was his greatest blessing, and yet he did not know it. What should his master say, he feared, should he find out that his servant possessed more than a heart of stone, was more than a ruthless killing machine, had more feeling than anger and cowardice all rolled into one?

Of course, Quirinus's master could easily see these things looking from the man's useless mind, but Lord Voldemort did not mind. They all had some guilt, in the beginning; and Voldemort did not plan on keeping the Defense professor around for long- he only needed his hands to steal the stone- it mattered not to the Lord what Quirinus thought of his missions- as long as he followed them.

Quirinus was also a man of many secrets. Not even Voldemort could penetrate some of his deepest. No one knew the dark thoughts that swam through his head daily, no one knew how his mind would often travel to a Halloween night, so many years ago. No one would know how painful it was to stare at the face of a young Harry Potter, and think back to his first love. No one knew the guilt and the shame.

When Voldemort ordered Quirinus to kill Harry- on more than one occasion- he had to obey. Coward as he was, his own life mattered more than a few years worth of memories. It mattered more than stolen kisses between schoolboys, and promises to never betray one another. His life mattered more than the undying love he harbored for a person long since past.

Quirinus's master wanted Harry Potter dead, and so it would be. His master wanted him to help the great Lord on the way to resurrection, so it would be done. Quirinus wanted the voices in his head to stop, the neverending guilt to ease from the pit of his stomach. It did not matter. Quirinus was gone, and there were no difference between the two faces now- except a single, guilt-ridden tear.

I'm sorry, James