Part Two

Down the hallway, in their tiny house's even tinier kitchen, Voldemort hummed Quirrell's simple melody to himself as he rescued his fruit-loaf-(regrettably)-turned-scones and gingerbread men from the scorching oven. He didn't even try to hide to smile plastered across his face. The boy was in love with him. Him.

Of all the people Voldemort had met and interacted with in his life, Quirrell had been by far his favourite. It had started when he called him a friend after their night out, but then it had snowballed until he had sent him away to Azkaban. When they'd been reunited Voldemort had to admit to himself that he had officially fallen for him- there was no way of denying it when even the lightest touch or briefest eye contact made his heart flutter uncontrollably.

His only regret was not acting on his feelings sooner. Six months he'd put off going rollerblading. Six months that they could've been a happy couple wasted by Voldemort hiding away in this kitchen. Not for much longer, he decided.

The tray of gingerbread men on the counter caught his eye, and he laughed. No- giggled like a schoolgirl. Only two out of the dozen he'd baked had turned out looking like actual humanoids, but two were all he needed. He grabbed his icing mix and food colouring, from the cupboard and set to work. His smile only grew.

Confidence was a wonderful thing. Voldemort had never lacked it even as a young boy. But he was just starting to learn that there were different types of confidence. He had the kind of confidence that enabled him to speak his mind, and dance in front of his legions of servants and followers, but he didn't have the confidence to speak his feelings. With Bellatrix he hadn't had to- well there hadn't been very many strong feelings anyway because he'd always wanted her for her body (a mutual feeling, he was sure). Quirrell on the other hand... Well there had to be a reason that Voldemort was giggling to himself in the kitchen yet hiding behind a baking tray.

It took him almost half an hour to finish getting the gingerbread men absolutely perfect. The icing had taken no time at all, but he was still getting used to casting non-harmful spells. The unforgivables were alright, but they couldn't enchant and they couldn't delight, so he really had no use for them in his life now. The spell he wanted to use was incredibly tricky anyway, but somehow he managed it.

The living room would probably be best, Voldemort thought quietly as he scooped up the biscuits and his left-over icing sugar. I could use the coffee table, and there's always the CD player...

He sprinkled the sugar over the low glass table, making sure to pile it up a bit at the sides so that is resembled, well a small frozen pond with snowy banks. Then it was just a simple matter of shrinking their Christmas tree to put on the side and enchanting the gingerbread men before stumbling across Quirrell's classical CD collection and playing the dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy. Okay, so maybe that was his CD, but it didn't matter. He hoped the music would coax Quirrell out of his room.

"Voldemort?" That was even quicker than expected. He jumped. Quirrell had been standing by the door for he didn't know how long so why hadn't Voldemort noticed him- was he that distracted by the music? "What are you doing?"

"Oh, well, uh..." If Voldemort hadn't been distracted by the music, he was definitely distracted by Quirrell. His heart felt like it was slamming against his ribcage just from glancing and his tousled hair and indescribably beautiful eyes. Confidence, come on. "Well, my gingerbread men didn't turn out how I wanted the to, so I tried to salvage what I could."

"That explains the biscuits, but not why they're ice skating on our coffee table or why you're standing by the CD player, which is playing ballet music, with your cheeks as red as your jumper." He didn't sound pissed, merely curious as he plucked one of the gingerbread men from the table. It squirmed between his fingers, desperately trying to finish the pirouette it had been doing. "And why is my Christmas Tree tiny and covered in icing sugar?"

Confidence, Voldy, come on! Voldemort gulped. It had seen like such as good idea, but now it just seemed silly. Quirrell wasn't stuttering though, which must've been a sign that he was secretly happy about it.

"I just thought it would be a good idea. I'm not sure why... But..."

"But?"

He gulped again. All or nothing. Confidence.

"But-I-think-it-would-be-nice-if-we-went-ice-skating-this-weekend."

Quirrell laughed, and it was probably the most genuine laugh Voldemort had heard from him since they'd moved here. If anything it made him feel even more nervous, for reasons he didn't even understand himself.

"You have no idea how long I've been waiting for you to ask that. You can sit down if you want, you know." He'd been frozen by the CD player the whole time, but now he stiffly managed to make his way over to the sofa where Quirrell was now siting. He played with the gingerbread-Voldemort on his palm while gingerbread-Quirrell still twirled around on the table. "And yes, I think that would be nice."

With those simple words Voldemort felt his stiffness melt and he practically flopped back onto the armrest. He didn't though, because that would've been embarrassing, but he did smile warmly at Quirrell who returned it with just as must enthusiasm.

"I kind of don't want to eat these." Quirrell let gingerbread-Voldemort twirl once more on his palm before putting him back on the table. The enchanted biscuit skated off to find his friend, gingerbread-Quirrell. They skated around the perimeter of the table once and then split off again. "You obviously spent a lot of time making them."

"For you. I spent the time making them for you." The words almost choked Voldemort on the way out, but he reckoned they needed to be said. "I think they'll just skate until they crumble if we don't eat them. Here- you can have mine."

"Okay, but but only if you eat mine." Quirrell took the gingerbread-Voldemort into his hand again, but this time it didn't squirm or move at all. Voldemort found that gingerbread-Quirrell did the same.

Old me would've found this kinky. He thought, brushing the last of the crumbs off his hands after demolishing the biscuit far too quickly. To his surprise it had tasted really nice, and he didn't usually like gingerbread. Maybe it was the icing. I'm not going to lie, I still find it a little kinky. He didn't say anything though.

"That was really good Voldemort. I knew you could bake, but that's the best gingerbread I've ever tasted." Quirrell wiped his hands on his trousers and smiled at him again. He could probably live off those smiles if he had to. "Thank you."

"No no, I should thank you really..." Confidence. He urged himself again. "I felt inspired by your song earlier." Quirrell ducked his head to hide a blush. At this point they both knew that he'd been singing about Voldemort, but neither of them actually wanted to say it out loud. Voldemort cleared his throat before continuing.

"And I just wanted to say that I really liked it, and... And that I like you too, Quirrell."

"I like you too Voldemort." He wasn't sure Quirrell fully understood his meaning. Of course they liked each other- they were best friends! He took Quirrell's hand gently.

"No, I mean I like you." There was no mistaking the blush coluring both their faces now. Voldemort could only hope that he didn't look too ridiculous, though he doubted Quirrell cared. He looked too surprised. "Which is why I'm really happy you agreed to go Ice Skating."

"I'm happy you asked. I... I really like you too."