AN: This is the repost of a story I wrote before. I've edited it since then, and fleshed it out.

If you think I'm crazy for pairing these two, watch A Very Potter Musical on Youtube. You'll understand.

The Greatest Weakness

Quirinus screamed. It took me a moment to realize what was happening, as I kept on shouting words of encouragement at him, urging him to kill Potter and pave our way to freedom. Then, his stammered "Master" caught up to me. "Master," he had said "Master, I cannot hold him, my hands! My hands!"

His hands? Frowning, I closed my eyes and concentrated, slipping into his mind.

The pain was so overwhelming that it took me a second to sense the other emotions, the fear and the cold-blooded determination. Beyond them both, though, was the incredible pain. It was emanating from his hands. What had happened to his hands? I concentrated harder.

The damn fool! He had tried to strangle Potter with his bare hands! Tried to strangle him instead of casting a spell! What a time to lose his head! And Potter had somehow burnt his hands with touch. How had he done that? No matter, there would be time to ponder Potter's strange ability once he was dead.

"Kill him fool!" I shouted, exasperated and unwilling to let on how worried I was, "Kill him and be done!"

I nearly sighed in relief as I saw him lift his wand out of the periphery of my eye. One whispered curse, and we would be free to escape and begin our new life. After Harry Potter died and we were safely out of Hogwarts there would be time to tend to Quirinus' wounds, he just had to maintain a steady head until then.

Then he screamed again. The chamber spun around me for a second, as Quirinus whirled away from Potter. The clever brat had made a grab at his face! "Kill him!" I shouted again, urgently.

A horrible unease was creeping its way into my mind. This was supposed to be so simple, so easy, a mediocre eleven-year-old student shouldn't have slowed us down for even a minute. But suddenly, Potter was displaying powers I had never heard or even dreamed of, and Quirinus was injured and in terrible pain. We needed to finish this, now.

"Kill him!" I shouted again "Kill him! Kill him! Kill him!"

I was losing all coherency in my panic. Potter had latched onto his arm, and Quirinus was screaming again.

I could feel Potter's magic now. It was burning through Quirinus's body trying to reach me. Then it hit me. It was trying to reach me. Quirinus's body was reacting to Potter's magic like that because I was possessing it. I was harming him through my continued presence in his body.

There was only one route I could see. The shock of my leaving his body so suddenly could be dangerous, but it didn't seem as if I had a choice. Potter's magic would kill Quirinus if I remained.

I closed my eyes, concentrated, and with every ounce of determination I possessed, I PULLED.

Filled with the most acute terror I had ever felt, I tried not to concentrate on the fact that these could be my last moments with Quirinus. Instead I tried to focus on the man, and how important it was to save him, how much good he had brought into my life.

To think, once I had considered Quirinus a common Death Eater, simply a tool to be used.

I had seduced him to my side the way I had so many before him. With promises of money, respect and power. It was an art I'd perfected years ago. It was so easy, playing on their greed, making them feel special, making them long for the importance they thought they deserved.

Quirinus had fallen prey to the enticing future I painted for him- Head Death Eater, favored above all others, with astonishing ease. It was like he had been waiting his whole life to hear me promise him the world in exchange for his soul.

When I first came upon him in the Albanian forest, unable to believe my luck, I was unsure if I should be relieved or disappointed to see his wand sticking out of his pocket. A muggle I could easily possess, they did not have the power to resist me. A wizard, on the other hand, had to be extremely weak willed for me to stand a chance to take over their body against their will.

There was a chance that he was a sympathizer, a pure-blood who believed in the propaganda I had easily spouted while still alive, that had come in hopes of restoring me to my body. There was an equal chance that he was, disgustingly, a good and noble wizard, who had searched me out in the hopes of ridding the world of my evil once and for all.

He gasped quietly as I loomed in front of him, a dark and insubstantial specter, and I took advantage of his surprise and fear to slip into his mind. Even in my diminished state of being, it was painfully easy to perform this magic, and I examined his thoughts leisurely, utterly ignoring his fumbling as he removed his wand from his robe and pointed it at me.

I ignored the wand; there was nothing it could do to me while I was in this state. Instead, I focused on meeting his eyes and entering his mind.

Interesting. Not a Death Eater or even a sympathizer, but not a self-righteous light wizard either. He was here for the glory and he did not care how he gained it. The prospect of joining in a partnership with me, one where in exchange for his help in returning to my former glory I would teach him dangerous and powerful spells that would make him feared and respected by all was just as palatable to him as the prospect of defeating me and becoming known throughout the world as the wizard who vanquished Lord Voldemort once and for all. The means truly didn't matter to him, only the end result.

The information was interesting, and raised my respect for him a notch. Either way he was not a blind follower. He was still a fool, though, of course, to think that he could manipulate me to do his will or defeat me, even in my diminished state.

"Quirinus Quirrell." I whispered mysteriously, encouraging the notion that I was an all-powerful being, and that helping me would be much wiser than fighting me. It worked and he gasped in alarm.

"There is no need to be afraid, Quirinus," I said softly "I will not harm you if you will be willing to grant me your help."

That was all that needed to be said for his fear to desert him, and his face split into a huge grin. I hadn't detected any signs of insanity while searching his mind, but the grin made me conclude that I must have simply missed them. It was only the crazy ones who grinned in my presence. Anyone who had any sense cowered.

"I live only to serve you, My Lord." he replied. His subservience coupled with his elation would have reminded me of Bellatrix had it not been for my glimpse into his mind. He was far from the blindly adoring and utterly mad witch who had been in love with me.

"Liar." I whispered at him "You have not come here out of devotion or loyalty to my cause. You don't even believe in it. It doesn't matter, though. We can be of use to each other. You want power, Quirinus, and I can provide you with it once I have regained my body. What use are my other Death Eaters to me? Either incompetent enough to get locked up, or foolish enough to think I am dead. You can be of use to me, and those who grant me their services get rewarded beyond their wildest dreams.

"Imagine it, Quirinus, you would be Head Death Eater, second only to me. Imagine them cowering before you, bending to your will, subservient under your power. I can teach you spells that would make you feared more than dementors. The most powerful wizards would cower before you, terrified. All you must do is grant me your aide."

I could sense any trace of wariness he might have harbored crumble at the promise of the power he so desired. With a triumphant grin on his face he gave a mock bow. "How can I help you, Lord Voldemort?"

The experience of possessing Quirinus was entirely new and unsettling to me. I was spending every moment of the day with my slave, and slowly, I was getting to know him.

I had never known any of my Death Eaters before. I knew their greatest fears and desires and could play on them, but I'd never had a deep understanding of the personality that lay beneath all the surface thoughts.

And there I was, not only beginning to know Quirinus Quirrell, but actually beginning to like him.

The thing that made the strongest impression on me was the intensity of his emotions.

At first, when I found out that Quirinus had a hobby of pressing wild flowers, all he could feel was contempt at the idea of doing something so pathetic and pointless (and feminine!), but after the initial and reasonable reaction, the next one was jealousy. How was it that something as idiotic as pressing wildflowers caused Quirinus more joy than I'd felt when at the height of my power during the intoxicating moments of victory? Why was it that in those moments all I could feel was anger and hate towards anyone around me, while he accomplished the elusive feeling I had been pursuing so futilely with such ease?

When he saw his wild flowers pressed in between the pages of his books he didn't smile at the beauty, he ached with a deep and disproportionate joy. When he set himself a task to complete, he didn't merely feel determination, he devoted himself mind and body to the cause until it consumed him. When he felt lust, he allowed himself to be so consumed by his need he couldn't think, couldn't do anything but feel. And when he loved, he loved so deeply that he managed to inspire the same emotion in a man who had once scorned it as the greatest weakness of mankind.

Before him, the main motivation for my actions was the acute hate and fear at the thought of another human, filthy and inferior to me, having control over me. The mere thought caused such great repulsion in my mind that the only desire I had was to become so powerful it would never be possible.

I had never felt the fierce joy of having enough power to shape and change the world. I had never felt elated by pride at the thought of all that I had accomplished. It had never occurred to me that one might fell that way, until hearing him for the first time. In his thoughts, there was no trace of fear, disgust or humiliation. Listening to him, one would think no such things existed. He wasn't ever running from something, but rather running towards. He exalted in his fantasies of power and triumph with such joy, that I found myself wishing to have him beside me in my victory, so that I would be able to share his elation and get a glimpse of what it felt like to bask in your victory. I wanted to love life like he did, instead of fear death.

When I spoke to him of our future together, ruling the world side by side, it no longer felt like a lie, as it would have had I told it to any other Death Eater, but rather like the most natural and logical conclusion that could be. Him with me, serving me, and making me happy the way no one had ever done before.

It took a long time, but eventually I had had to acknowledge to myself that I actually liked this wizard and enjoyed his company. He had become, for lack of a better word, a friend to me. Not really a friend, of course, that was preposterous. I didn't have friends, and in any case, the title didn't really seem to capture the relationship between us. Perhaps even then, I had known subconsciously that the title I really wished to bestow upon him was lover. Of course, it would take many months before I could even admit to myself that the possibility of such a thing wouldn't be entirely repulsive. It took much longer for me to admit to myself that what I felt was actually love.

It was a painfully slow process, and I am unable to pinpoint the exact time in which it happened- in which I had become ensnared by him, and the generic promises I'd given all of my followers, had morphed into seductive whispers of a future where the two us would rule the world together, side by side as equals.

What I do remember, though, is the night in which I realized just how much he had changed me. He lay in his bed, in the darkness of his sleeping quarters at Hogwarts. We had hit a frustrating stage in our plan- Severus was dogging our every step, and we had no idea how to get past Hagrid's Cerberus.

I could feel his despondency, how he was beginning to give up, as he lay there in the dark. So I started whispering to him, the way I had a hundred times before. I told him of the euphoria of our victory, when I would return to my body, and finally be able to talk to him face to face. Of how he'd be the only one I'd share the Philosopher's Stone with. We'd rule the world, the both of us, immortal, together beyond all the others.

It was at the point that I became aware of how quickly he was breathing. In the silence of his quarters his harsh breaths were magnified a hundredfold, and his frantic heartbeat was pounding in my ears.

With the ease of a naturally born legilimens, I slipped into his mind. The yearning in it overwhelmed me. Not the crude greed I was accustomed to, but a desperate desire, a bittersweet and infinite want.

He was imagining it, the future I was painting for the both of us. It was beautiful. Together, we ruled the world, all powerful. Then his mind strayed, adding details I had never spoken of. For one second, in his imagination, we were more than equals or friends. The quick image that flashed through his mind of the both of us, writhing against each other desperately clearly indicated that, in his imagination, we were lovers.

The imaged had aroused him. I could feel it as if I were him, the momentary urge to let his hand slide down his body, and give in to the lust. He immediately suppressed the want, of course, knowing that he could do no such thing without my noticing.

I didn't reveal to him that I had read his thoughts. I kept on talking calmly, as if nothing had changed, as a mischievous idea entered my mind. Mischievousness. Another emotion I had never experienced before meeting Quirinus.

Keeping my voice level, I closed my eyes and concentrated. Though I knew how to accomplish my goal in theory, I had never attempted anything of the like before. I knew I was capable of it though, my prowess in the field of Legilimency surpassed all others. Sure enough, as I concentrated on the feelings I was trying to induce, I could feel it working.

Quirinus's heartbeat was elevating, and I could feel his body heat rise. More importantly, I could sense it in his mind. The lust I had induced had taken hold.

I concentrated on the feelings the thought of his naked body induced in me, and could hear his heartbeat increase and his lust grown in response. His mind was like clay, so easy for me to mould to my liking, shape itself to feel what I told it to feel. I concentrated even harder, all the while continuing to talk to him as if I were unaware of what was happening to his body.

Quirinus was now on the verge of crying out, the urge to touch himself had become so strong, and he was getting closer and closer to the point where he would be unable to bear it any longer, he would have to do something to appease the desperate want.

Had he been in his right mind, he would have immediately recognized that something was amiss. He had become way too aroused way too quickly, it was quite obvious that I was messing with his mind. But he had become so overwhelmed with lust, that the only thought I could hear in his head was the desperate battle between his body and mind.

His body was urging his to relieve the tension, the urge becoming greater and greater by the second, but his mind was telling him that he would never be able to do it without me noticing, and just how bad it would be if I found out that he was masturbating while I spoke.

I kept my voice calm and level, even as I witnessed his resolve weakening, and his hand slowly drifting downwards towards his straining erection.

He couldn't stifle a grunt, as his hand finally reached its ultimate destination, and he froze- terrified that I would notice it and realize what he was doing. I paused for a second, but then I resumed my monologue, this time allowing him to hear the catch in my breath, the lust in my voice.

Now, though, I didn't speak of power and slaves. I spoke of him and me, and the things I was going to do to him once I had my body back. I spoke of how I would have him writhing with pleasure, unable to think of anything but his desperation for friction, for release. Of how I would give him so much pleasure he would no longer be able to remember his name, only scream mine.

As I spoke, I could feel him approaching the edge. Him breathing was loud in my ear, growing quicker and quicker as he frantically touched himself. I could barely recognize my voice any more, low, rough, and thick with lust.

"Quirinus!" I panted, and he gasped as he came.

Then, as he lay in bed breathing heavily, trying to calm his heartbeat, I spoke to him gently of what my first act in my new body would be. Before anything, I planned, I would take his precious face in my hands, finally able to look into his eyes after all these months, and I would kiss him until all we knew would be each other and the touching of our mouths.

"Voldemort." he whispered softly, and fell asleep. "Quirinus." I answered, not telling him that that was the most frightening thing I had done in my entire life.

I PULLED.

I had known moments of fear before, but never so acute.

How fitting, that it would be Quirinus who inspired the most intense moment of fear in my life. After all, it had been him who inspired so many other intense emotions, the likes of which I had never known.

I felt an incredible pain, and the empty ache of separation, and realized I had done it. I had managed to escape his body. Indeed, when I glanced at the place in which Potter's hand was still clutching his arm, though Potter himself had passed out, I could see that it had stopped sizzling, with me gone, Potter's magic was no longer hurting Quirinus.

A closer look at his body, though, revealed that it didn't matter. It would make no difference if Potter's magic was hurting him or not. Quirinus was far too injured to survive, even though the assault had now stopped. Even with the help of magic. Fighting the horror and the disbelief that were welling up inside me, pushing them to the back of my mind, I concentrated on pushing myself until I was hovering over Quirinus's face.

It was horrible. His face was mangled and burnt and terrifying. But he had never shied away from the thought of being with me, despite my monstrous snakelike body, and I did not shy away from him now.

"Quirinus." I whispered. He groaned softly. Then, with a terrible cry of pain, he wrenched his arm so that it was no longer touching Potter's.

I looked back at Potter's unconscious form, and frowned. "I'll never be able to give Potter a chance to surrender and join me now." I whispered softly. "I'll never be able to get over my hate. I'll want to murder him myself. Even if my Death Eaters will have a chance to kill him personally, I will not allow them to do it. I'll have him brought to me so that I can torture him myself and see the light leave his eyes. I won't be able to help it. It will be stupid, of course, it will greatly increase the boy-prophesized-to-kill-me's chances of escaping, but I won't be able to help it. My need for revenge will be too great. It will probably be my undoing, too. I was right in thinking that love is the greatest weakness one can have."

I had never named the emotion I felt for him before, though it was obvious enough without me saying it, but Quirinus's lips twitched with a smile none the less upon hearing the four-letter-word.

"Goodbye." he said.

"Goodbye." I replied, my voice breaking half way through.

He closed his eyes and it was over.

"Harry!" I could hear Dumbledore's familiar voice from far away. "Harry!" he was quickly approaching.

I fled from the voice of my foe.

.My foe, who I had always sneered at when he spoke of love being the greatest power in the world. I had always thought he was a fool. I still did think so, and I was the greater fool, for allowing it to influence me despite everything.