Disclaimer: Do you really think J.K. Rowling would write a Dobby x Quirrell story?
Kate: My first story. It is basically my mission to write couples as twisted as possible and this is the opening of this mission. Enjoy! (And don't take it seriously…)
Oven May Be Hot
Quirrell was tired. Very tired. He had just been killed by Harry Potter, so technically he should have been feeling dead, not tired. But there you go.
Maybe he was a zombie or something.
Anyway, the point is, Quirrell was feeling tired so he wanted a place to rest. Unfortunately, he had no friends, (due to the fact that he smelled strongly of the garlic he used to ward off vampires) so he didn't know what to do.
He decided to sleep in the doorway of the first house he saw. Coincidentally (or maybe not so coincidentally because an author was controlling his every move), that was the Malfoy's house. This is where Dobby just happens to reside at this point in time. He settled into the doorway, ready for an uncomfortable night's sleep. But (there's always a but in romance stories) lo and behold, who appeared at the gate?
(I'll leave some space for you to make some guesses here.)
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Dobby appeared.
He gave Quirrell a frightened look (what? You were expecting love at first sight? How would you feel if a man/zombie was lying on your doorstep in the middle of the night?). Quirrel just blinked tiredly (also not love at first sight. Let's face it, Dobby isn't exactly attractive.).
Dobby swallowed his fear and said in his little reed-like voice, "Dobby would like to know what you are doing on his master's doorstep, sir."
Quirrell found that he couldn't speak. Either because he was dead or because Dobby's voice and courage had made Quirrell fall deeply in love. So he just mimed sleeping and coughed pathetically. Dobby, seeing this cough, suddenly felt a connection to the man/zombie lying on his doorstep. Dobby often coughed pathetically.
"Dobby supposes that sir could come in for a little while. The master and his mistress are out tonight."
Quirrell smiled and stood up. Dobby approached him slowly. Even though Quirrell was dead, he was still very attractive, Dobby thought. Quirrell was having similar thoughts about Dobby, if you replace 'dead' with 'a house elf' and add some rather 'private' thoughts into the mix (Quirrell was quite a frisky young fellow before he got caught up in that turban business). Dobby opened the door and stepped aside to let Quirrell inside. He would have to punish himself for this, later. But right now, all that mattered was Quirrell.
"The masters have a basement, sir. It is where Dobby sleeps, sir. You may sleep there tonight, sir," said Dobby. His eyes instantly widened as he realised the betrayal he was committing against his masters (only Narcissa was allowed to share a bedroom with Dobby. I'll let your imagination run wild here). He sprinted into the kitchen where he found the oven. Quirrell quickly followed, not willing to let the little house elf out of his sight. He caught Dobby opening and shutting the door onto his fingers (Dobby told Harry that he'd burnt the Malfoy's dinner. But this is how it really happened).
"Caution! The oven may be hot!" Quirrell said in a rasping voice (his vocal chords were probably starting to decay).
Dobby stopped immediately. He sunk to the floor and started sobbing (every good romance story throws in a little angst). "Dobby isn't wanted by anyone. Dobby is all alone. The masters will hurt Dobby if they find out what I've done for you. No one loves me…" he said, his voice catching in his little throat.
Quirrell sat on the floor next to Dobby. "I love you, Dobby…" he said (may seem a little sudden, but this is a one-shot), kissing the elf on his long nose.
"Sir loves me? Why does sir love me?" Dobby asked, bewildered.
"Because you're so damned attractive," Quirrell said, smiling. "And my name's Quirrell by the way. You can call me Quirrell."
"Of course, Mister Quirrell, sir!" Dobby squeaked. "Thank you very much, sir."
"This is supposed to be the part where you kiss me, Dobby…" Quirrell said, tossing his head in what he thought was a seductive manner.
"Of course, Mister Quirrell, sir."
And with that, Dobby leaned towards Quirrell, trying to adjust his nose into a position that wouldn't cause him to take Quirrell's eye out.
"Of course, sir."
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Kate: What do you think? Review!