Quirrell slowly opened his door and peeked out suspiciously, visibly wary once he realised it was Yaxley standing there. "Can I help you?" He asked, making sure to keep the door between them. "It's seven in the morning."

"I've gotta take your wand." Yaxley shrugged, holding his hand out expectantly. When Quirrell only stared at him in confusion, he elaborated. "Dark Lord's orders, in case you do some dumb shit again. Sorry, man."

"My wand?" Quirrell echoed in surprise. "But why would Vol – I mean, uh, the Dark Lord take my wand?"

"I just told you why. You set our prisoners free with it, he won't take any more chances on you going all good guy again. If you ask me, you got really lucky."

"I got lucky?" Quirrell looked at him in disgust. "You're kidding, right?"

"What's that face for?" Yaxley asked, before he began to laugh. "Aw shit, you don't really think I would've…Bellatrix was only kidding around. I don't do anything without consent."

Quirrell hesitated, before pushing the door open further the tiniest bit. "Alright. I guess. But my wand…"

"Yeah, just hand it over. I'm only doing what I was asked to."

"I don't want to."

"Then we might have a problem."

"You seem like a nice enough guy, Yaxley. Why're you here? You could be doing something more meaningful with yourself." Quirrell attempted, simultaneously trying to keep the door between them. "Maybe a painting course, or a – dance class?" He gritted his teeth with the effort, but Yaxley soon shoved his way through.

"Your room is a mess, man." Yaxley muttered, before lifting his wand. "No wonder the Dark Lord is in a mood with you."

"He's not in a mood with me." Quirrell replied grumpily, "And I bet he doesn't even want to take my wand. This is just you messing with me. Did Bellatrix put you up to this?"

"Bella has her own things to deal with." Yaxley dismissed with a sigh. "Now give it to me. I don't want to mess this place up any more."

"This doesn't make sense. Voldemort wouldn't – "

"Accio Quirrell's wand." Yaxley cut across him hurriedly, his eyes wide with fear. All too soon, Quirrell's wand was being stuffed into Yaxley's pocket, and he rounded on him instantly. "You have some nerve, kid. To say the Dark Lord's name like that…Fuck."

"Formalities seem a little dumb when you have him on the back of your head for months." Quirrell pointed out, already seething. "Where is he?"

"Doesn't matter." Yaxley told him, already moving to leave the room. "He's busy all the time. He's a very important man."

"So what's he doing? Searching the market for a new house?" Quirrell asked sarcastically, ready to slam the door in Yaxley's face.

"Very funny, newbie. Luckily for you, Fudge is still as clueless as ever. Looks like we'll be staying around here for a bit." Yaxley gave him one last look as he stood in the doorway. "Want some advice?"

"I don't need advice from you." Quirrell said pointedly.

"Mr. High and Mighty, you most definitely do. Everyone has it in for you. Keep quiet and try to make friends."

"Friends?"

"Acquaintances, then. You need them in this game. See you around." Yaxley raised both his eyebrows with a shake of his head, as he left Quirrell's room.

Quirrell stared after him stonily for a moment, before closing his door and locking it. He waited a few seconds and then kicked at it in a sudden rage, only to instantly regret it as pain fired through his foot. "Oh! Fuck! Ow!"

"Are you having fun in there, Quirrelly?" A horribly familiar voice called from outside his room as Bellatrix thumped on his door. "Is Yaxley showing you a good time?"

"Bitch!" Was the only thing Quirrell managed to say, hopping over towards his bed so he could massage his foot.

"What was that?"

"You heard me! Bitch!" Quirrell yelled back, his anger winning out. "I know that's a horribly misogynistic term, but you're a total bitch!"

"Get you with your fancy words! A true professor, through and through." The door handle rattled ominously as she tried to open it. "But you're not as smart as you let on, ickle Quirrelly. You have no idea the things I can do to you. You have no idea."

"Try it! I dare you!" Quirrell snapped, folding his arms and sitting up straight on his bed. "You can't do anything to me. Voldemort will kill you."

"The Dark Lord is still recovering from three hours ago." Bellatrix cackled. "He's sprawled out in my bed getting ready for round two. The way I make him feel, let me tell you…"

"Oh, gross!" Quirrell automatically closed his eyes, the image seared into his brain. "Don't be so – so crude!"

"Innocent ickle baby!" She crooned, continuing to thump on his door. "You want more? You wanna hear about how he screamed my name so much he can barely talk? You wanna see the marks I left on his back?"

"Go away!"

"Not that you'd know anything about sex, Quirrelly. He told me your secreeeet!" She dragged out the last word, dissolving into peals of laughter again. "Quirrell's never been laid, ever!"

His eyes shot open and his jaw dropped. Voldemort had told her that? He'd told Bellatrix, of all people? "What the fu –"

"We had a good laugh about it. I'm still laughing. Oh, c'mon, open the door up. I'm not here to hurt you, I promise! Don't you trust me?"

He was shaking out of anger. He'd never been so furious in all of his life. He was going to explode. Before Quirrell could register what he was doing, he was moving towards the door, he was unlocking it, and he was drawing his hand back and slapping Bellatrix so hard that her head snapped back.

There was a long, long silence, and Quirrell stared at her, then down at his hand in horror. "Oh my gosh." Was the first thing he could say. "I'm – I'm not usually violent."

She raised one finger to silence him, lowering her hand from her cheek, which was considerably red and sore. "Quirinus Quirrell," She breathed, her eyes alight with rage. "By the time I'm done with you, you'll wish you'd never been born."

"Bellatrix, listen –"

"Shut. Up. Shut your god damn mouth!" Her voice rose to a scream and she clutched at his robes. "You petulant little mommy's boy, I oughta - You good for nothing – You dare to cross me?"

"I didn't mean to hurt –"

"Hurt? You think you hurt me?" She laughed incredulously, abruptly letting go of him. "No, no, baby, it's the principle of it all. You hit me. You'll get punished."

"I don't doubt it." He managed weakly. His wand had been taken from him. Sure, he could do wandless magic, but he didn't stand a chance against an angry Bellatrix. "So, let's just…get it over with. Nice and fast."

She snorted, turning away from him. "You think I'll just fire a curse at you and leave you to sleep it off? That's way too easy. See you soon, Quirrelly."

"Bellatrix?"

"Just don't get comfy. Ever. 'Cause I'll be coming for you." She shot over her shoulder, already storming away.

Quirrell was fairly certain he'd never sleep again.

XxX

Jane Austen was probably the only person who could ever make Quirrell feel fully relaxed. He turned the page of Emma, offering him a chance to escape his bleak surroundings, and tried to focus on the words. It'd been a whole day and Bellatrix hadn't done anything to him. Maybe, just maybe, it would all be –

"What's that you're reading, Quirrelly?"

His book was suddenly snatched from his hands and he stared up at Bellatrix in bewilderment, feeling as though he'd just been transported back to his first year at Hogwarts. "It's good." He managed, attempting a smile as he awkwardly stood from his chair. "You might like it."

She held it away from her in disgust as she observed the title. "You dare to bring muggle books here? You dare to sit there and openly read a filthy muggle book?"

"It's – Emma is a classic." He tried, holding out his hand for it back.

Bellatrix wrinkled her nose. "There's no place for mudbloods or muggles here." She told him, before she began to savagely rip out the pages of his favourite book.

He watched in horror, all set to tear it out of her hands and protest, but he willed himself to remain calm. She wanted a reaction. This was all part of her stupid scheme to ruin him. He just couldn't let her –

"Stop it! Enough!"

"Yeah, quit it, what is this? Bully at a playground?"

Quirrell spun around to come face to face with Voldemort, but by then it was too late; his book was completely ruined and scattered all over the ground. He swallowed, turning away from him, before he knelt down and began to pick up the remains.

"Just teaching him a little lesson. He should know by now about where we stand with muggles." Bellatrix replied innocently, taking Voldemort's arm. "Anyway, who cares? Let's go back to my room."

"I'll pass for now." Voldemort replied casually. "Thanks for the offer, though."

"Don't stay on my account." Quirrell said, picking up the tattered remains of the book cover and doing his best not to let his voice crack.

"Quirrelly thinks everything's about him." Bellatrix cooed. "So much so that he gave me a little slap. Didn't you, Quirrelly?"

Quirrell felt his face grow red and he didn't respond, not even when Voldemort's yes narrowed. "Quirrell? Quirrell. Stand up and look at me."

"I'm trying to fix my book." Quirrell replied quietly. "She ruined it and I need to fix it."

Voldemort muttered something under his breath, rubbing his forehead. "Damn, you're all making me age prematurely. Bellatrix, leave us."

She bowed with a small smirk, and then spat at Quirrell's feet. His jaw clenched but he remained silent, even after she had walked away.

"Is that true?" Voldemort eventually asked, kneeling down beside him to help pick up the scattered pages. "Did you hit her?"

"By accident." He blurted. "I mean – I didn't mean to. It was your fault!"

"My fault?" Voldemort arched an eyebrow. "Enlighten me."

"You took away my wand and you didn't speak to me and you told her I'm a virgin!" Quirrell yelled, angrily slamming the bundle of pages back onto the ground.

"What?" Voldemort asked in surprise, before he went considerably paler, which was a feat in itself. "Noo, no, I didn't. I mean, I might have, after some Firewhisky, said something in passing, but not in a negative way or a –"

"I can't believe this! I can't believe you!"

"And I can't believe you either! Jeez, do you have a death wish? Are you insane?"

"I must fucking be, or I'd have left this toxic place!"

"You slapped Bellatrix. She already hates you, and you slapped her 'cause she teased you a little? Grow up, Quirrell!"

"You're telling me to grow up?" Quirrell asked incredulously, poking Voldemort's bare chest in fury. "You're seriously saying that to me? You took away my wand, you made me bow in front of you and let me be embarrassed by all your stupid followers. You try this tough act with everyone and then you come visit my room to 'hang out' as if nothing's wrong. It's fucked up! You're a baby! You're so scared of rejection that you'd happily let them torture me as long as it still made you look good. It's so gross!"

"I would never let them –"

"You already are, Voldemort!" Quirrell angrily shoved the remnants of his book at him. "What's next? Do I get thrown into the dungeon after all?"

"Quirrell, stop. Let me talk."

"That's all anybody does. Let the Dark Lord talk! Let the Dark Lord decide! The Dark Lord can kiss my ass."

Voldemort's eyes widened in surprise and he coughed a few times. "Dude, come on, I know you're upset – I'm sorry I made them take your wand! But you've got to understand, they were getting ahead of themselves, it was the only way I could make them shut up! And I know you can do wandless magic, you're a fucking prodigy, so I –"

"I don't care, alright? I don't care anymore. I'm done."

Done? Voldemort's face fell, and his heartbeat began to increase as he swallowed. "You hate me, huh?"

"No. I don't hate you." Quirrell replied with a heavy sigh. "I just can't be your friend."

"No, no, Quirrell, you can!" Voldemort attempted a laugh, though he was fully aware of how panicked he sounded. "You're my best friend, remember? I never had a friend before you. You're so great, you – you make me laugh, you're so damn smart, you're amazing to talk to –"

"Don't, Voldemort. Please."

"You're the greatest person in this place!"

At that, Quirrell snorted with laughter. "No. Oh, no, Voldemort, we both know that's not true. You keep yourself busy just fine without me. How're the marks on your back?"

Voldemort's jaw dropped as he felt his face rapidly heat up. "Excuse me?" He eventually managed to choke out.

"I don't hold it against you for sleeping around, whatever. I'm not your parent. But with Bellatrix? You really know how to pick 'em."

"What – she – so I fuck her from time to time, big deal!" He exclaimed, pretty sure his face was so red he could explode. "That doesn't mean I think she's the greatest! You're the one who's my – y'know, my best friend."

Quirrell shook his head, averting his gaze as he slowly got to his feet. "I'm sorry, but I'm not. Not anymore. I'm gonna pack, and then I'll leave."

"You can't. I mean it, you really can't. The Ministry will find you and they'll –"

"It's better than staying here."

"You don't mean that."

"I do. I'm sorry." He finally met his eyes, and Voldemort instantly noticed how sad they were. "I'm sorry I have to go."

"Please, Quirrell."

"Maybe things would be different, if you weren't so…" He trailed off awkwardly, clutching the pieces of his book to his chest.

"Evil?" Voldemort finished flatly.

"Eager to please." Quirrell corrected in a quiet voice. With that, he took a small step forward, and gently pressed his hand against the back of Voldemort's head. "It was fun for a while. We had one crazy time together. But you know I can't stay."

Voldemort gritted his teeth in an attempt to stop any emotion escaping from his voice. "I'll miss you."

"I'll miss you too." Quirrell told him sincerely, stepping away. "'Course I will. You were so important to me."

Past tense. Already. Quirrell was really going to leave. "Right. Well, clearly not that important."

Quirrell didn't rise to it, and instead held out his hand. "Don't forget all about me, will you? I did keep you on the back of my head."

Voldemort stared at Quirrell's outstretched hand, but he didn't shake it. "It'd be pretty damn hard to forget all that." Was all he said, and then set his jaw and straightened up, determined not to crack. "If you're leaving, then leave. You'll have to be quick and you'll have to be smart."

"Got it." Quirrell slowly lowered his arm when it became apparent Voldemort wasn't going to oblige. "Ok. Well, goodbye, Voldemort."

Voldemort turned around and walked away from him, trying to focus on upholding his image. He'd be damned if he started to lose it in front of what had been his only friend. Quirrell had already seen him beg him to stay, but he clearly wasn't going to be swayed on this.

"Fine." Voldemort said aloud, once he'd reached his room. "Fine. Who needs Quirrell anyway?"

He did. Obviously. Voldemort was already feeling the loss; it pierced every inch of him and made him grimace the more he thought about Quirrell and how he would likely never see him again. But this was what Quirrell wanted, and Voldemort certainly wanted him to be happy. If he couldn't be happy here, Voldemort had to let him be happy elsewhere.

Damn, it was difficult, though.

XxX

It was kind of depressing how little Quirrell had to pack. All his truly treasured items had stayed at his house before he'd accepted the Hogwarts position, so all he had was a few shirts and the odd book. He reached under his pillow to retrieve the most important item of all; a slightly tattered photo of his parents. Quirrell stared at it for a while, before kissing it and hurriedly shoving it into his case.

The door opened behind him and he sighed, shoulders stooping. "Voldemort, I told you, I'm going. You can't change my mind."

"Petrificus totalus!" Was the only response he heard, in a voice which certainly wasn't Voldemort's.

The last thing he was aware of was his stiffened body falling to the floor, and Bellatrix Lestrange standing over him.