Another Quirrellmort AU! This idea has been in my head for a little while (if you follow me on tumblr you'll know), and is where instead of being sent to Azkaban, Quirrell goes back with Voldemort after the graveyard scene to his headquarters. It will be multi-chapter, but as I'm also writing 'Without Him' and the Parents fanfic, it's hard to say when this will be updated. I hope you enjoy!

"So when're we gonna go rollerblading?"

Voldemort glanced up from his grand desk, rubbing his forehead before looking at the young man who had posed the question. Quirinus Quirrell was lounging in one of the armchairs that decorated the Dark Lord's room, his Black Death Eater robes making him look even slimmer than usual as they practically shrouded him. His soft brown eyes met Voldemort's, and he smiled expectantly when there was no response. "Rollerblading?" He repeated, an edge of hopefulness in his voice. "Did you forget?"

"No, I didn't." Voldemort glanced back down at his desk, resting his chin in his hand as he observed all the documents spread out in front of him. "We're just a little busy. Which you'd know if you pitched in and did your share."

"Ah-ah, someone's a little grumpy." Quirrell stretched lazily before he rolled up his sleeves in annoyance. "These stupid robes are too big."

"They're designed to be like that. It's for dramatic effect." Voldemort retorted moodily, before sighing and resting his head in his hands. "Sorry, sorry, I know I'm snappy."

"You are." Quirrell agreed. "Alright, so we postpone the rollerblading. But we can totally watch a movie, yeah?"

"Quirrell, I don't know. I can't think, I'm so busy." Voldemort uselessly rubbed at his eyes. "Y'know how stupid this whole 'break into the Ministry' plan is?"

"I haven't looked at it." Now Quirrell sounded equally grumpy. "I also don't care, remember. I only came here because of you, and I hardly ever see you anymore. I don't plant flowers. I don't have any freedom. I -"

"Oh, don't start." Voldemort interrupted wearily, beckoning him over to the desk. "Here. Look over this, tell me if it makes sense."

Quirrell rolled his eyes but obediently made his way over, glancing over Voldemort's shoulder before he frowned deeply. "Did you come up with this plan yourself?"

"Yeah." He admitted, before hesitating. "Why? Is it bad?"

"It's awful." Quirrell gathered up all the papers, his eyebrows furrowing further. "It's an awful plan. Wait, are you just planning on strolling into the Ministry?"

"That - that was the general...idea..." Voldemort faltered, before he brightened, relaxing back in his chair. "Dude! Dude, I've got it!"

"I sincerely hope so." Quirrell muttered. "Go on. Enlighten me."

"Dementors!" Voldemort clicked his fingers, grinning widely. "They'll do whatever I'll tell 'em. I Disapparate into the Ministry with two dementors as my own personal guards, and who's gonna dare stop me?"

Quirrell whacked him around the head with the stack of papers. "You're absolutely terrible." He told him flatly as Voldemort yelped, rubbing at the back of his head.

"What? What did I do?"

"You're just - " Quirrell cut himself off. "What are you even going to do in the Ministry? What's the general purpose of your visit?"

Voldemort scowled. "To kill the Minister, duh. You know that." At the stunned silence that followed, he warily looked back at Quirrell. "Uh..."

"I - I didn't know, actually." Quirrell admitted, his voice quiet as he placed the papers back on Voldemort's desk.

"Well, that's - the plan." Voldemort averted his gaze, clearing his throat. "Y'know, so that way I can rule over the Wizarding World, and then..."

"And then..." Quirrell echoed dubiously, before turning away. "I'm so tired. I'm gonna head to my own room."

"You don't have to." Voldemort attempted, pushing his chair back. "Hey. We can totally watch a movie just now. Look one out, let me just take this damn cape off -"

"No thanks. I really am tired." Quirrell told him. "Maybe tomorrow. Maybe. I don't know."

"Listen, man, if you're upset about this Fudge thing..."

"I'm..." Quirrell faltered. "I suppose. I am, yes."

"Well, like I said, if you pitched in more with the general ideas instead of always acting like you're better than all the other Death Eaters -"

Quirrell turned around to face him so quickly that it was almost like his robes had just been set on fire; his eyes positively burned with anger. "I am not a Death Eater. Don't you dare tie me in with them! I'm nothing like them!"

"Oh, ok, Mr Big Shot." Voldemort replied as he gestured to him. "You're in the Dark Lord's room wearing Death Eater robes, living among Death Eaters, you have your own fucking room in the headquarters -"

"For you! I'm here for you!" Quirrell rolled up his sleeves, presenting his unmarked arms. "No Dark mark, so - so I'm not a Death Eater, and don't you ever say that to me again!"

They were interrupted by a knock at the door, and Quirrell rolled his sleeves back down with shaky hands, turning away from him again. Voldemort swallowed, clearing his throat a few times before calling: "Yeah?"

"My Lord, I'd like a word with you." Came the response, and Quirrell made a noise of disgust when he realised it was Bellatrix.

"Right, I'm leaving." At Voldemort's slight look of panic, he elaborated. "I'm going back to my room, not leaving this place. Though I'm beginning to reconsider getting tangled up in all this business, I gotta admit..."

"My Lord?" The thumping at the door increased. "Voldemort. Open up."

"Oh, just come in." Voldemort snapped, still looking at Quirrell, his eyes softening. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry for always being a shithead. I'm still not good at this, I'm learning. You're still my friend?"

Quirrell observed him calmly, before nodding. "I am, yeah, but..."

The door swung open and Bellatrix made her way in, giving Voldemort a curt bow. "Alright, so, the plan!" She began immediately, wrinkling her nose a little at the sight of Quirrell, who retaliated by moodily folding his arms. "God, I've been trying to talk to you about it for ages! Have you finished it? Let me see it."

"Jeez, give me a break..." Voldemort groaned, gesturing to his desk. "It sucks. My plan is awful. See for yourself."

"Don't be ridiculous, of course it isn't!" She attempted to reassure him, shoving past Quirrell to look at the papers.

"It is." Quirrell stated bluntly. "As far as plans go, it really does suck."

"Hold your tongue!" She shrieked in response, glancing up to glower at him furiously before turning her attention back to the desk as she read.

Quirrell rolled his eyes, turning for the door. "Goodnight. I'll be in my room if you need me."

"We won't." Bellatrix retorted, moving to sit on Voldemort's desk, the papers clearly not her top priority after all. "You wanna know why?"

"No," Quirrell sighed as he stood in the doorway.

"'Cause we're gonna make love all night, and then you can clean and fix my dress for me tomorrow morning, as it's gonna be all torn from -"

"Whoa," Voldemort interrupted hastily, holding up his hands in embarrassment at Quirrell's deeply unimpressed look. "That's a bit out there, Bellatrix. I wasn't really - and he doesn't have to clean anything -"

"And after that, he can get to work on mopping the whole house, and then he can work with Lucius on torturing the mudbloods we caught yesterday -"

"What?" Quirrell asked suddenly, his eyes widening in horror as he glanced at Voldemort.

"Oh. Oh, yeah, uh..." Voldemort laughed sheepishly. "The other day, um, it's just two people who have information on the...the Ministry, so..."

Quirrell's horrified expression stayed, and he gripped onto the door handle so hard that his knuckles turned white. "Holy shit. Holy shit, this is insane..."

"No, it's protocol." Voldemort attempted, realising hwo bad that sounded. "I mean, it's – taking over the world was never gonna be easy, right?"

"I'm out." Came the immediate response, as Quirrell shook his head. "I can't do this anymore."

Bellatrix sneered. "Aw, high and mighty little Quirinus doesn't want to play anymore! That's okay, baby, you can pack up your suitcase and go right home now. We don't mind at all! Do we, my Lord?" She was obviously toying with him, waiting for a sarcastic response, and when Quirrell narrowed his eyes the tiniest bit she lost it. "You don't get to walk away, you little shit!" She leapt up from the table furiously, her voice rising. "This isn't a holiday camp, you're here to serve your Master! And you'll damn well do it! Crucio!"

Quirrell yelped and dodged the curse just in time, panting heavily. He looked at Voldemort, before his face screwed up and he turned to run out of the room without a backwards glance.

"No, Quirrell, please –" Voldemort tried, but Bellatrix was moving past him.

"Run, peon, run!" She crowed after Quirrell, standing in the doorway triumphantly. "I'll come visit you later!"

"Oh, Bellatrix, why can't you just leave him alone?" Voldemort groaned in exasperation, rubbing his temples. "He shouldn't be in this whole mess. I sometimes forget how young he is. How naïve he can be."

"He disrespects you," Bellatrix muttered. "I would never do anything like that, but he...he openly...And did you hear him? He wants to leave you. The idiot thinks he can just leave you!"

"No, he knows he can't." Voldemort sighed, feeling so overwhelmed with tiredness. "He knows it's too risky."

"If we'd stuck to the original plan, if he'd been taken away to Azkaban, then the Minister would still be oblivious that you'd returned, but now –"

"Shut up!" He exclaimed, hurriedly slamming his door shut so there was no chance of Quirrell overhearing. "God, you can't mention that under any circumstances! If he knew what we'd planned before…"

The horrified look on Quirrell's face burned in his mind, and he tried to shake it off, but the image grew. Quirrell was already mad at him. If he found out that Bellatrix had been completely prepared to send him to Azkaban prison and frame him for the death of Cedric Diggory, he'd never speak to him again. No wonder; Voldemort really was a piece of shit, all things considered. But wasn't that the whole point of being a Dark Lord? "Leave me." He decided. "I need to sleep."

"I can always sleep with -"

"No." He snapped. "Not tonight. Leave the room."

She was clearly flustered at his refusal, but gave him a nod and another bow, before she carefully left him alone in his room. Voldemort walked back over to his desk and glanced at his plan, before in a fit of anger he slammed his fist down on the papers.

Damn it all.