This is based around A Very Potter Musical and I can guarantee that you will recognize some lines from it. However, I also tried to incorporate the actual Harry Potter universe into it as well, so we'll see how this turns out. The whole afterlife bit is kind of like Supernatural where each person has their own little heaven-the place where they were the happiest- and other souls can jump between people's personal heavens.
Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Harry Potter or the AVPM universe.
Quirrell sighed. It had been exactly one month, two weeks, three days, seven hours, and twenty seven minutes since the Dark Lord had attached himself to Quirrell's soul, and he was still trying to adjust.
You see, Quirrell had been single for all of his life, and living with a roommate, especially someone as high maintenance as the Dark Lord was very tiring. The Dark Lord was more confident, more organized, and definitely more picky than Quirrell.
For example, the other night, the Dark Lord had convinced Quirrell that they should go clubbing. Naturally, Quirrell had decided to go to a Muggle Club, leaving the Dark Lord grumpy and bitter the entire night. They were banned from the club by a very confused manager after the Dark Lord had turned the bartender into a lizard because they didn't serve any firewhiskey.
They had still gotten pissed out of their minds and were having a very hard time making it home. Who knew that with the both of them drinking into one stomach that they would get twice as drunk?
When they had arrived back at Hogwarts, Quirrell had somehow made it back to his chambers without being seen. He then stripped, thrown his robes over the chair, and fell back gracefully onto his bed.
"Quirrell," muttered the Dark Lord into Quirrell's feather pillow.
"Mmm?" hummed Quirrell, almost asleep.
"Turn over."
"What?" Quirrell asked, opening his eyes.
"You have to roll over. I can't sleep on my tummy," the Dark Lord whined.
"Neither can I." Quirrell began to go back to sleep, but the Dark Lord wasn't having it.
"Quirrell, I demand you turn over right now!"
"Or what?" asked Quirrell. Now, normally, Quirrell wouldn't back talk to anyone, especially the Dark Lord. But he was drunk, and people have a tendency of saying things they shouldn't when they're drunk.
"Or- or I'll eat your pillow! You'll have a dream that you're eating a rather large marshmallow, but when you wake up, you're favorite goose feather stuffed pillow will be gone!" the Dark Lord exclaimed. It wasn't the best threat, but he was as drunk as Quirrell, so his threats weren't as good as they could have been.
Quirrell sighed, but he didn't give in. Instead he said, "How about I turn on my side so neither of us have to sleep on our stomachs."
The Dark Lord thought this over. "Alright," he said.
Quirrell turned over so he was facing the door, and the Dark Lord was facing the chair that he had thrown his robes over when he had undressed.
He was almost asleep when the Dark Lord said, "Hey Quirrell. How long have those robes been on that chair?"
"They're from tonight. I just put them there for now," Quirrell said.
"Well are you planning on putting them in a hamper?" the Dark Lord demanded.
"I think I'll just leave them there for now and put them away in the morning, okay?" Quirrell said. He just wanted to go to sleep.
"Uh no!" the Dark Lord snapped, "No that's not okay! I can't go to sleep knowing that there are dirty clothes on that chair! The chair's going to start smelling like dirty clothes!"
"I promise I'll put them away in the morning."
"You put them away RIGHT NOW!" the Dark Lord demanded, "I command you to get up and… fold them at least! Make it into a neat pile!"
"Look," Quirrell sighed as he sat up, "We're going to have to get used to living with each other. Now, I've been single all of my life, and I have some bad habits, and sometimes I leave dirty laundry lying around."
"Well I believe that everything has its place. Muggles have their place, mudbloods have their place and so do your clothes! Namely a dresser!" the Dark Lord growled.
Quirrell sighed. It was going to be a while before he was ever remotely used to living with the Dark Lord.
It had now been four months, one week, three days, six hours, and two minutes since the Dark Lord had possessed Quirrell, and Quirrell had found himself adjusting rather well.
They were now more friendly towards each other, especially now that the Dark Lord had given Quirrell permission to call him Voldemort.
They had grown close as companions, going clubbing every couple of weeks, taking long and thoughtful walks through the forbidden forest for a late night snack, and tonight they were going to try and watch a movie.
Quirrell didn't know how it was going to work because only one of them would be able to see it.
However, Voldemort had the idea that they could switch halfway through. Quirrell would watch the beginning of the movie, and Voldemort would watch the end. Then, for their next movie night they would switch and Quirrell would see how the film ended and Voldemort would see how it began.
It almost worked too, except for when Voldemort had gotten curious and demanded to know what was happening on the screen. He had tried to turn Quirrell's head around so he could see what was going on, however he had no control over Quirrell's head and only caused Quirrell a massive headache.
"Calm down, calm down!" Quirrell exclaimed, massaging his temples, "I'll tell you what's going on."
Quirrell did his best to explain what was going on during the movie to Voldemort while also feeding him pieces of popcorn.
"Then Laney says-"
"I know what Laney says. I hear everything that you hear," Voldemort snapped while rolling his eyes.
"Yes, I forgot," said Quirrell, and then went on to describing what Laney was wearing.
"You put too much butter on this, Quirrell," complained Voldemort. Quirrell rolled his eyes, knowing that Voldemort was complaining only to complain.
"Sorry," he apologized, even though he didn't really mean it, "Now do you want to know what's going on?"
"Yes."
"Then stop complaining!"
When the time came for them to switch, Voldemort went into great detail describing what was going on, commenting on the smallest things, such as how cliche the whole movie was and how muggle fashion was terrible.
It was a pretty good night.
It had been six months, three weeks, two days, eight hours, and thirty seven minutes since the Dark Lord had possessed Quirrell, and Quirrell was finding that being possessed by the Dark Lord was a whole lot different than he had originally thought.
For example, right now they were rollerskating at top speed through the hallways of Hogwarts. They had no chance at being caught, even though they weren't using a disillusionment charm and Quirrell wasn't even wearing his turban.
What had made them so bold? To roller skate through the hallways of Hogwarts with nothing to hide the fact that Voldemort was attached to the back of Quirrell's head should have been suicide. Well, it might have been the fact that it was the dead of night. It have could also been the fact that they were skating across the high ceilings using roller skates Quirrell had found the black market.
The roller skates had been enchanted to skate on any surface and would make the skater feel as if they were right side up the entire time. The only problem was that Quirrell had to use a charm to keep his robes in place, but other than that they were perfect.
It was nice to not have to wear his heavy turban. It was a little weird, though, because before the Dark Lord was a part of him, he had a full head of thick brown hair. However, once Voldemort had attached himself to his soul, he had to shave his head. But it was worth it, because soon their evil plan would go into action and the Dark Lord would be more powerful than ever!
Quirrell knew things would be different between him and Voldemort once their plan to kill Potter had succeeded, but for now he enjoyed the company of his new bestie.
It had been one minute and thirty two seconds since Quirrell had died. He had burned to death, reduced to ash, by an eleven year old boy. Granted, that eleven year old boy had killed the Dark Lord himself when he was just a baby, but still, talk about embarrassing.
Quirrell was now in what he assumed was the afterlife. He was a little confused as to why the afterlife looked so much like his chambers at Hogwarts, but he just rolled with it.
Another thing that confused him was the fact that Voldemort was also in the afterlife with him but he was no longer attached to his head. He was his own separate person, with light colored hair that was slicked back, hallowed cheekbones, and a flat nose-much like a snake. He was dressed in black leggings, tap shoes, and a dark sparkly cape. He also wasn't wearing a shirt.
Voldemort looked at him sadly. "I have to leave, old friend," he said. Quirrell was confused.
"What? Why? How? We're dead."
"I have to kill Potter," explained Voldemort, "I have to put all those mudbloods and muggles in their place."
"But how will you come back? As I said before, we're dead," Quirrell said, massaging his temples. The idea of dying and coming back to life twice was giving him a headache.
"I-" Voldemort sighed. Quirrell could tell that he wasn't going to like what he would say next. "I made… horcruxes," Voldemort said, looking down in… shame?
"Horcruxes?" Quirrell was amazed, and a little scared. He knew all about horcruxes, being a defense against dark arts teacher, and he did not like them one bit.
"Seven," admitted Voldemort.
"Seven!" exclaimed Quirrell.
"So you see, Quirrell, I can go back! I can finally do what I've been trying to accomplish for years!" exclaimed Voldemort.
"I- I mean… why not? It is your dream after all," Quirrell said, trying to hide how disappointed he was. He had never had a friend before Voldemort, and now his only friend was going to leave him. Maybe forever.
Voldemort nodded, not noticing Quirrell's disappointment, "Well, goodbye old friend," he said, "And if it makes you feel better, I think you'll like this version of what happens better."
"Why? What's better about this version of our plan?"
Voldemort sighed, not knowing how to explain. He wasn't as proud of his evil plan as he used to be. "I was going to get my body back and kill Potter, you know that part. The part that you didn't know was that Bellatrix and I and all the other Death Eaters were going to run and blame Potter's murder on you and send you to Azkaban."
"What!" Quirrell exclaimed, furious. "After all we've been through?"
"I have to go!" shouted Voldemort as he disapparated back to earth.
Quirrell sighed. Life with the Dark Lord was always interesting, yes, but he was starting to wonder if it was all worth it.
It had been seven years, ten months, twenty nine days, fourteen hours, and thirteen minutes since Quirrell had died.
He had watched the second wizarding world from his place in the afterlife. He had watched the Chamber of Secrets reopen and the defeat of the basilisk; he had watched Peter Pettigrew come out of hiding and he knew the truth about Sirius Black; he had watched-and cheered-when Voldemort had gotten his body back; he had seen Sirius Black die and the way the grief almost killed Harry Potter- the boy he had become obsessed with; he had watched Dumbledore die and even spoke to the old man a couple days after he had been welcomed into the afterlife; finally he had watched the defeat of his old friend.
Even though he had seen Voldemort die, he was still very surprised when exactly fourteen days, two hours, and thirty seven minutes after his death, Voldemort was knocking at his door.
"Hey you," said Voldemort when he was allowed into Quirrell's afterlife.
"Voldemort is it- is it really you?" Quirrell couldn't believe his eyes. He always figured Voldemort would stay in his own afterlife and not try to seek out Quirrell's.
"Well… what's left of me…" Voldemort looked down.
"I saw you…" Quirrell couldn't finish the sentence.
"Die?" Voldemort finished. He paused, "Yeah. My afterlife sucks balls. Turns out the happiest time in my life was when I was growing up at the orphanage. So I came to find you. Because there's a part of me that's...right...in...here," Voldemort said as he pointed to Quirrell's chest.
"In my heart?" Quirrell asked. Voldemort nodded. "So you came back?" Quirrell demanded, a little outraged.
"I came home," said Voldemort giving Quirrell a sad, longing look. Quirrell was so moved by the cheesiness of that line, he almost couldn't believe it. He bit his fist and looked away.
"And you don't want to kill Harry Potter anymore?" Quirrell asked when he could think again.
"No," Voldemort admitted, "No. Because- because I learned something when I had my body back, Quirrell," he said, "I learned that life is really messy and complicated and it doesn't turn out the way you think it will. And that-that you think killing people might make them like you but it doesn't. It just makes people dead! I got killed by a two year old! And its really embarrassing! And everybody says 'When you gonna come back, Voldemort?' 'When you gonna take over the world?' Its on me! Its all on me!" Voldemort looks down, "And I'm sitting there by myself because no one wants to help," he continues, "And I say to myself… maybe with Quirrell things would be okay," Voldemort admitted, still staring at the floor.
"Is okay...good?" Quirrell asked hopefully.
"Quirrell! Okay is wonderful!" Voldemort cried as he leaped up to embrace his friend in the backwards hug that they always did when he was attached to the back of Quirrell's head. At last the two friends were reunited.
Well, this turned out almost exactly how I planned, which is very unusual because that almost never happens in any fic of mine, unless I have some sort of guideline. Well, I suppose I had the plot of AVPM to help, but still I tried to make it match the cannon. And the whole - days, -hours, -minutes thing was inspired by Pushing Daisies- a show that I recommend you go and watch right away.
I'd also like to say a quick thanks to my very good friend pepin-the-short for reading this over and what not.
Anyway, leave me a review telling me what you think and if you think I should write anymore Quirrelmort (I will, but a little push in the right would be greatly appreciated).
~littleblueweirdo