"Quirrell, man, I know you're in there." Voldemort thumped on the door of his friend's room. "You can't ignore me forever. I'm technically your boss."

"Get lost!" Came the expected yell. "You are not my boss!"

"And he speaks! C'mon, let me in already. You're already pissing people off with your absence."

At that, there was a silence, before Quirrell sighed and muttered "Alohomora", resulting in his door swinging open slightly. Voldemort gratefully made his way inside, only to stop in surprise at the sight of Quirrell in bed. "You've been lying here the whole time?"

"Get over yourself! I've been watching TV and eating chocolate, not wallowing in my bed in self-pity." Quirrell retorted grumpily, propping himself up and pushing the duvet down slightly to reveal his baggy t-shirt.

"Watching TV and eating chocolate sounds a lot like self-pity and wallowing to me." Voldemort admitted, rubbing his jaw. "Dude, listen, I'm really sorry about the whole mudblood thing. I didn't want to upset you, and that's all I seem to be doing."

"A little bit, yeah." Quirrell nodded, though his grouchy expression had softened. "I miss just…hanging out. I don't want to do this. The whole evil thing."

"You're not! You're just –"

"An accomplice, which makes it worse!" He raked his hands through his dark hair, tousling it in agitation. Voldemort couldn't help but stare at him, transfixed. "I'm worse than all the Death Eaters, 'cause I'm watching all the bad stuff happen and I'm doing nothing!"

"What're you meant to do?" Voldemort challenged, taking a step towards the bed. "Quirrell. You're living here under our rules now." And the Death Eaters really were getting mad. This was honestly the only way Voldemort would be able to protect him. If Quirrell just lay low, stayed in his line of sight and obeyed their mundane tasks, he would be alright. But if he stayed shut up in his room ignoring them…

"Listen," He continued carefully, "you and I will always be friends, ok? Hell, you're the only damn friend I've ever had. You're…fuck it, you're important to me." The moment the words left his mouth, his eyes widened in surprise. But it was all so painfully true that he was unable to hide it, and he closed his eyes when all he got was silence in response. "You really are. You have to know that. Now, please, just…will you get up?"

Quirrell took a few seconds, before he smiled widely and it made Voldemort's chest ache. "Fine. Deal. But leave the room."

"Why?"

"I'm wearing nothing under the duvet but this t-shirt and wizard shorts."

XxX

Once Quirrell had convinced Voldemort that they were cool and that he'd get ready, he bitterly yanked on his Death Eater robes and waited until he was sure the corridor outside his room was deserted.

He slowly peeked his head out from behind his door, his wand gripped in one hand, and then hurriedly made a run for it. By the sounds of it they were all in some big meeting in the dining hall, which gave him plenty of time to break into the dungeon and release the prisoners without being caught in the act. Fingers crossed.

The steps leading down to the dungeons were rough and ancient; naturally, there was no handle, so Quirrell had to struggle down trying to maintain his balance. He successfully made it without falling flat on his face, but now the real task had begun.

"Lumos," He whispered, his wand illuminating the dank, grimy dungeon just in time to see a rat dart across the floor and disappearing into the shadows. Quirrell supressed his violent shudder and forced himself to move further inwards. "H-Hello? Is anyone here?"

Muffled crying was soon heard, and he navigated himself towards the particular cell, his wand in front of him. "It's ok, don't be scared," He attempted, aware of how unhelpful that sounded. "I'm here to get you out."

From the corner of the cell, a young woman and a man crawled towards the light, their faces frozen in fear when they saw him. "We don't know anything." The woman protested in a croaky voice. "We really, really don't, we don't know!"

"No, no, I'm not a Death Eater." Quirrell tried to reassure her, unlocking the cell door with a flick of his wand. "My name's Quirrell. I'm going to help you."

They stared at him, their terror only seeming to increase. "You're lying." The man spoke up, pointing at him warily. "You – you're going to kill us."

"Not me." Quirrell replied seriously as he pushed the door open wider, gesturing them out. "Follow me. We'll have to be quick."

"We're not going anywhere." The woman spat at him, before cowering in fear. "You're tricking us!"

Quirrell rolled up his sleeves to present his unmarked arms. "I'm not a Death Eater." He repeated. "You think the Dark Lord would let a Death Eater come down here alone and unlock your cell door?"

"To torture us." She whispered, edging back against the wall.

"I swear to you, on my life." He protested. "Look at my arms! Now, please, just come with me before they find us!"

The couple stared at each other for a moment, before shakily getting to their feet. Immediately, Quirrell realised just how weak they both were; the man could barely walk and the woman swayed even when she was standing still. Quirrell instantly took the man's arm and placed it around his shoulders to take some of his weight and helped him towards the steps.

"Are you alright?" He asked the woman, already more than prepared to half-lift her too, but she nodded, beginning to move while keeping a close eye on him.

"Help him more. He got the worst of it yesterday. I – I'm fine." She replied, a tremor in her voice as Quirrell led them upstairs, pausing every so often to check for voices. "You're really helping us?"

"Yes." He smiled at her hesitantly. "I really am."

She observed him, biting her lip, before a smile broke out on her gaunt face, like a lightbulb had just been switched on. "I'm Rachel. That's Sam."

"Hi, Rachel. Hi, Sam. I'm Quirrell. I already told you that." Enough with the niceties, they were in a real dangerous situation right now. He couldn't afford to get side-tracked. "Alright, so. I'll get you out of the manor and I'll search for your wands so you can Disapparate. Any idea where they hid them?"

"Use Accio," Sam snapped back, his breathing quickening. "We don't have time, we have to go now, before they –"

"Right, Accio, uh-huh," Quirrell interrupted, beginning to breathe just as heavily. "Sorry, sorry, I'll get them. Let's just…" They had reached the landing, and the meeting still seemed to be going on which made them all collectively sigh in relief. All the same, they didn't have long.

"Exit is just a bit further along," Quirrell whispered, and to save any further noise he flicked his wand, silently summoning Sam and Rachel's. Their eyes widened, clearly impressed, and they instantly pocketed their wands as if Quirrell would snatch them back.

"You're smart," Rachel whispered as they continued to move. "You're a double agent, right? An Auror? You must be!"

"Um, yes, I am, uh-huh," Quirrell lied, feeling as though his heart would burst from anxiety by the time they reached the door. "Go, go, don't mention me to anyone, just get out!"

Rachel grabbed him in a weak hug, her eyes glazed with tears, before she gripped Sam's hand and left the manor. Quirrell closed the door after them, waiting until he heard the cracking noise to confirm their Disapparation, and then slid to the floor, his legs suddenly weak.

He'd done it. He'd saved them. Quirrell covered his mouth, laughing breathlessly out of shock and exhilaration. They'd thought he was an Auror. And hey, maybe he was as good as! No more sitting back and watching people do bad things. He'd made a difference.

Of course, when the Death Eaters found out, he was as good as killed.