First step to moving on from Quirrell was to throw himself into a seriously intense work-out regime. Then maybe pick up some new hobbies. Or maybe even find a decent place to live, seeing as he was basically in a fucking shack. So much for a back-up place for the Dark Lord. The Death Eaters hadn't exactly done a great job when they'd built the place for him all those years ago. Ah well. At least they weren't here to irritate him anymore.

Voldemort took a gulp of his water, breathing heavily through his nose. He hadn't even counted the number of sit-ups he'd just done, but his abdomen was aching so it'd obviously been more than his previous best.

"So," He said out loud, taking a seat. "Now what?" What was he meant to do if he had no desire to kill Potter anymore? And he wasn't going to interfere in Quirrell's life anymore, no way. Besides, he had no idea where the man would've gone after Azkaban. He could be anywhere. Back at Hogwarts? No. Old apartment in the Wizarding World? Probably not. Maybe even in an entirely different country!

Could be dead. Voldemort shuddered, hurriedly drinking some more water. No, no, not dead. Not Quirrell. But he really could be anywhere, with anyone. Voldemort just hoped he was safe and being looked after by someone.

XxX

Jamie looked just as lovely as Quirrell had remembered – that brown scruffy hair and decent physique, plus the stubble that he managed to pull off. Whenever Quirrell didn't shave he looked like a homeless person.

Not that Jamie's nice looks actually mattered at all. Quirrell wasn't remotely interested in him, not even as a friend. He didn't even want to socialise, yet here they both were.

Jamie had picked him up from the house, and after a lot of awkward debating, they'd decided on just hanging out in a small coffee place.

"I c-can't eat right n-now." Quirrell had tried to explain, self-consciously zipping up his coat so the guy wouldn't notice quite how thin he was.

"Yeah, sure, no problem." Jamie had dismissed as they walked into the local town. "How about drinking?"

"K-kinda."

"Any preference?"

"Um..."

"Coffee? Tea? Going mad on whiskey?"

Quirrell had managed a tiny smile. "C-coffee's good."

"Awesome, I know a good place. Owner loves me."

Lovely looking. But a bit pretentious.

So now they were sitting on one of the small tables with their coffee, and neither of them said much. Which suited Quirrell fine, seeing as this hadn't been his idea anyway.

"Staying with your parents for a bit?" Jamie eventually asked, even though he already knew the answer.

"Not ex-exactly by choice." Quirrell responded bitterly. "N-nowhere else to - to go."

"Right." There was another silence. "So," Jamie commented after a while. "That school you worked at really did a number on you, huh?"

"What?" Quirrell glanced up, startled.

"I just mean, the last time I saw you, you'd been given a job offer at some boarding school, and now you're back looking like the students have repeatedly ran you over with a truck." Jamie laughed.

Quirrell flinched and out his mug down with shaking hands. "Th-thanks." He replied quietly.

"Oh, I didn't mean - You look gorgeous, as always. Wait, I didn't - I just mean that you look really - can I start over?"

Quirrell managed a small smile, feeling his face heat up slightly at the compliment. "T-truth is, I wasn't ac-actually at - at the sc-school too long." He admitted. "St-stuff happened."

Jamie nodded carefully. "Yeah. I kind of figured there was something else."

"O-Obvious, right?" Quirrell smiled humourlessly. "I'm not g-gonna talk a-about it, though."

"Sure. It's not my business." He replied. "But I take it you won't be going back to the school, then?"

"No w-way in h-hell."

"So you'll be around here for a while?"

"I g-guess."

"I'm pleased to hear that." Jamie told him with a smile so nice it made Quirrell blush again. "Not about you losing the job, obviously. But that you'll be staying."

He was really nervous about where this was going. "J-Jamie, uh..." He swallowed. "I'm a f-fuck-up. You d-don't wanna spend t-time with m-me."

"You're not a fuck-up, Quirinus." He told him, before his smile widened. "And yes, I do."

"Th-then you're as c-crazy as I am." Quirrell snorted. "I'm d-doped up on drugs h-half the time."

"To help you. They don't make you any less of a good person. Neither do your mental illnesses."

Quirrell paused for a moment, looking at him. "Huh. Y-you're pretty nice." But you're not Voldemort and I hate you for it.

Jamie laughed. "I try. But I mean it. I don't see your depression. I just see you, and I like you."

Quirrell really doubted that. It was a ridiculous concept. "Th-thanks..." He began, but was interrupted from saying anything else.

"Will you let me take you out again sometime? Even if it's just for another coffee?"

"I...I d-don't..." Quirrell bit his lip.

"Look, don't stress over it, it's no big deal." Jamie raised his hands in surrender. "I just want you to know that I mean what I say."

Quirrell finished his coffee with a small nod. "I just d-don't think it's a g-good idea."

"Why? Because you're not feeling good at the moment? That doesn't matter to me."

"It m-matters to me." Quirrell retorted, before he shrugged. "But th-thanks. I'll...think a-about it."

Jamie grinned. "Great! And who knows, maybe this'll make you a bit better."

Quirrell frowned heavily. "W-what, talking to - to you? Yeah, I'm c-cured already!"

The grin fell instantly. "That's not what I meant."

"F-fuck, man, I've never h-heard anything as - as arrogant as th-that!" Quirrell stood from the table, relieved to now have an excuse to do so, grabbing his coat. "Th-thanks for the c-coffee. See y-you around."

"Quirinus, please, I swear I didn't mean for it to sound like that." Jamie stood too. "At least let me walk you back to your house."

"I-I'm not a child."

"I know. It's common courtesy."

"Only if - if there's a p-promise of sex. Which b-believe me, th-there isn't!" He shrugged his coat on, zipping it up.

"What? Oh, c'mon, that's not true. You've been watching too many movies."

"N-nothing else to - to do in that h-house."

"Look, Quirinus, I'm not offering to walk you home because I think I'll get a quick fuck out of it. That's stupid! I respect you."

Quirrell rolled his eyes. "You d-don't even know m-me."

"But I'd like to." He chuckled slightly. "Besides, your parents are in that house. Maybe one day you can come back to my place."

"Ugh!" Quirrell all but yelled, causing a lot of people to look up in surprise. "Seriously? G-get lost!"

"Oh, Quirinus, that was a joke -"

"No, no, th-that is not okay. D-don't ever say that to me!" Quirrell snapped. "Y'think I'm just g-gonna jump into b-bed with you? How s-self-absorbed are you?"

"No! No, listen -"

"I'm d-done with listening." Quirrell replied stonily, already walking. He left the cafe and didn't wait for him. He just kept going until he reached his parents' house, which took the best of thirty minutes because he was already so tired.

By the time he'd entered the house there had been two messages on his phone from the guy,
apologising profusely. Quirrell ignored them until his phone beeped again, and again, and eventually he sighed. Fine. He'd go on another date.

XxX

"I was thinking maybe somewhere else tonight. Not that I don't love coffee with you, of course, but maybe somewhere a little more upmarket."

It was a month later and Quirrell had found himself in what seemed to be some sort of relationship with Jamie, and he didn't really know what to think about that at the moment. Maybe he just shouldn't think. It only made things worse. "I st-still don't eat m-much." He pointed out as they walked. "And I d-don't exactly have a ton of – of money."

"How about soup, then?"

"Soup's m-more upmarket?" Jamie flicked Quirrell's nose, making him grin. "Sorry, Vol - Jamie." Shit, that was becoming a habit, always almost blurting out Voldemort's name instead of the man he was standing next to right now. "Look, t-take me wherever, I d-don't really care."

"Okay, then." Jamie took his hand, and Quirrell resisted the overwhelming urge to yank it away. He didn't like contact anymore. "I know a place and – "

"The o-owner loves you, r-right?"

"Will you quit it?" Jamie laughed, pulling him along easily.

"It b-better be cheap, o-okay? But, like, not so ch-cheap that it's all t-tacky."

"It's a nice place, the prices are fine, and it's quiet. Is that alright for his Highness?"

"I'll s-survive." Quirrell replied.

"Besides, I'm paying for it. So it doesn't matter, does it?"

Quirrell frowned. "But - you p-paid last time."

"So?"

"So isn't it my – my turn? Or we c-could split the t-tab or something?"

"I don't mind paying, Quirinus. Besides, you…" He trailed off, clearing his throat. "You don't have a job."

Quirrell blushed. "Th-thanks for the reminder. I'm t-trying."

"I know, I know you are, and I'm really proud of you." Jamie said earnestly. "It's just, I don't want you borrowing off your parents to pay for our dates, or –"

"I d-don't." Quirrell retorted, his blush only deepening. This was so embarrassing. "It – it's my own m-money. I have a b-bank account, y'know."

"Oh, right, sure." He cleared his throat again. "Sorry, I just…"

"B-basically, I can pay for my – my own stuff, okay?" Quirrell cut across him. "And I d-don't wanna argue a-about it. So…t-take me to this p-place."

"You're still trying for a job, right?" Jamie asked carefully as they entered the restaurant. "'Cause listen, you don't need to just look for teaching opportunities, there are tons of other options."

"I l-like teaching." Quirrell replied simply as they were shown to a free table, immediately sitting down.

"Yeah, sure, I know. But…"

"What?" Quirrell all but groaned in exasperation.

"Nothing, it's just that you hated the interviews. You broke down after every one."

"Sh-shut up, Jamie." Quirrell snapped, blushing again as he ordered himself a beer, suddenly really needing it. "I'm w-working on it."

"But you don't need to keep putting yourself in this situation. It only gets you more anxious." He attempted, before shaking his head. "Alright, I'll shut up. You know what's best."

"Th-thanks." Quirrell muttered back, looking forward to going home to his bed already.

"Oh, Quirinus, don't go sulky on me." Jamie grinned, reaching for his hand that was rested on top of the table. Quirrell instantly withdrew it. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean for that to sound bad."

"You – you say that a lot."

"Yeah. I know. I suck, don't I?"

"Meh." Quirrell shrugged. "I – I'm still st-sticking around."

"Thank God for that." Jamie replied with another smile. "I am sorry, though. Let me make it up to you."

Quirrell tried not to pull a face at that. "St-still no sex. Sorry."

"That's not what I meant." He snorted. "I'm thinking more getting you dessert."

"I'm not even h-hungry for regular f-food." Quirrell told him, glancing down at his menu.

"Then what else can I do? Massage you?"

Quirrell grimaced. "Ugh, are – are you serious?"

"Only slightly. Buy you some new clothes rather than those sweaters?"

"You c-can't buy my affection, l-loser." Quirrell threw a napkin at him. "And – and my sweaters are g-great. I'm f-freezing!"

"Oh! I have an idea. We can go to a spa together. Guaranteed warmth, and the two of us topless."

"O-over my dead b-body. I don't do spas. Or b-being topless." Quirrell gestured to himself. "I'm d-doing us both a f-favour."

"As if. Alright then, no dessert, massages, new clothes, or spas. So what do you like?"

"B-books. Romance. G-gardens." Quirrell told him. "But like I s-said, you can't b-buy my affection."

"I'm not trying to. I hope I have your affection already. Do I?"

"Meh." Quirrell repeated with a smile. "Y-you're okay."

Jamie laughed. "You're a dick, but I like you. It'd be impossible not to."

"I f-feel the same about y-you." Quirrell replied truthfully. "So I g-guess if you really w-want to make it up to – to me, you can k-keep seeing me. No one else w-wants to."

"Only because you don't give others a chance." Jamie pointed out. "But I'll be more than happy to keep seeing you. So, does this make you my boyfriend or what?"

"Uh…" Quirrell faltered. Damned if he knew. "Y-yeah, sure, I guess."

His first boyfriend. Wow. He suddenly really wanted to go back to bed and cry, and not exactly from happiness.

Jamie took Quirrell's hand and kissed it, and the gesture was so over the top it made Quirrell cringe. "So, ah…yeah!" He chuckled awkwardly, prising his hand away. "G-great!"

"It is." Jamie breathed back, before leaning across the small table to kiss him. His first kiss. In public. With someone who wasn't his soulmate.

Quirrell flinched, sitting back in his chair and resisting the urge to wipe at his mouth. "Um, s-sorry, I'm…j-jumpy…"

"I know, that's okay. I'll wait."

For what? More kisses? More than kissing? "O-okay…"

"I mean it, Quirinus. I'll look after you. You don't need to feel pressured into anything, alright?" Jamie smiled at him warmly, clearly not noticing how uncomfortable he was.

Quirrell just nodded back feebly. "Sure. O-okay."

It didn't feel okay. It felt all wrong. Because this man wasn't Voldemort. No one would ever be like his Voldemort.

Damn it.

XxX

You could've taken care of him.

Voldemort huffed in irritation as the voice in his head chimed up yet again. How many times did he have to tell himself that he wasn't going to interfere in Quirrell's life anymore? Besides, the man almost definitely wanted nothing to do with him, and no wonder. He'd been out of Azkaban for a few months now. He'd be fine!

Voldemort grimaced as he realised he had no idea how long Azkaban trauma lasted. It was probably different for everyone. But hey, Quirrell was tough. He'd probably got a new job and house and maybe even a partner. He was almost definitely doing great.

So if that were the case, Voldemort could maybe…just find out whereabouts Quirrell was staying, just to make sure he really was alright. What if he was actually living in poverty or something awful? Thinking about it, it'd be hard for him to find a job after coming out of Azkaban, it was only logical. So if Voldemort just checked up on him. Nothing major. He could totally do that, and it wouldn't be interfering in Quirrell's life, right? Right!

Please review :3