This is the last chapter, and I'm getting kind of emotional about it. Thank you so much to everyone who's stuck with this story.
Also, I'm writing a lot of other Starkid/Quirrellmort stuff (most of you probably know that), so even though this story is over, it's certainly not the last of my writing for this pairing (:
Quirrell had not made this easy on Voldemort.
It had taken at least two weeks to actually shake of the damn Death Eaters, and even then Voldemort was always on edge. He hadn't slept more than five hours a day in case any of them found him, and he was Disapparating one village at a time to get to Diagon Alley, where Quirrell had said he was.
By a month, Voldemort was ready to snap. The constant paranoia of Death Eaters or anyone from the Ministry finding him was driving him crazy, even if he did wear a large cloak whenever he went out. Quirrell wasn't in the Leaky Cauldron any more, that was for sure, and Voldemort hadn't seen him at all, even if he'd been hiding in Diagon Alley for a while now. So where the fuck was he?
It was another week before Voldemort was sure he'd seen Quirrell. It was only a glimpse, and he got lost in the crowd, but Voldemort was sure it was him. So he was still here – the only trouble was finding him again, and without anyone knowing.
Voldemort was hiding – yet again – behind one of the buildings a few days later, wearing his hooded cloak and wanting to punch a wall. This was ridiculous. Why the fuck had Quirrell picked the busiest place to stay and why –
"Ex-excuse me?" A hesitant voice came from behind Voldemort. "Can you move, please? I gotta get past you…"
Voldemort tensed up completely. He'd know that voice from anywhere, and he numbly moved to the side. Before he could react or say something, Quirrell was gone, clearly in a hurry. What had just happened? Hadn't he recognised – No, the hood, ok, but they were literally soulmates. Couldn't he have noticed something or…?
Crap, where'd he go? Voldemort clenched his jaw, apprehensive about going out into the proper streets at the busiest time of day, but took a step forward, desperately trying to catch sight of Quirrell before he lost him again. He just managed to see him duck into the bookshop Flourish and Blotts. Typical.
"Thanks a bunch, Squirrel." Voldemort muttered under his breath. Ah, fuck it, he'd have to go in there, wouldn't he? At least it'd be fairly quiet…
He swallowed as he hesitantly made his way inside, closing the door behind him. His eyes automatically fell on Quirrell, who was hanging up his coat and anxiously looking at the manager, who was clearly pissed off. Wait. Quirrell worked here now?
"Assistants are easy to come across, and you have a history, Mr. Quirrell. Showing up late when you're so easily replaceable isn't a good sign, is it? Especially when we're the only shop that are willing to hire the likes of you."
"Sorry." Quirrell muttered back. "I got – I mean, I overslept b-because I don't really have a home right now, I'm p-pretty much all over the place and I –"
"Will it happen again?"
"No." Quirrell replied quietly. "I'm sorry. I'm really grateful that you gave me this j-job."
"Hm." The manager sniffed distastefully. "As long as you don't go and give this place a bad name, and remember, no serving children. Especially school kids."
Quirrell blushed, staring down at the floor. "I – I know…"
"Because the last thing we need are parents freaking out about the professor who went crazy selling books to kids."
"I'm not c-crazy. And I was innocent."
You tell 'em. Voldemort grinned proudly, before his expression moulded back into a scowl. How dare he talk to Quirrell that way and treat him like dirt. Voldemort turned his back on the two of them, pretending to browse through books so he could figure out what the hell to do. He wanted to hug Quirrell so badly; the poor guy looked so miserable and thin and…
"You can preach that all you want, it won't make any difference to the people's attitudes towards you. Work with You-Know-Who and you're bound to be in trouble later."
Voldemort turned his head at that to find Quirrell looking a mixture of angry and upset. "I don't b-blame people for hating me. But I never hurt anyone and – and I didn't want to. I mean…I mean, yes, Vol – You-Know-Who hated Potter and that rubbed off on me. But I –"
"Forget it. Just remember you're on constant watch, alright?" The manager retorted, before handing him a pile of books. "Stack the shelves. New school books."
Quirrell buckled slightly under the weight, but he nodded and kept quiet as he got to work. Voldemort watched him, randomly picking out two books. If he could just get to the counter and if Quirrell could see him…
The manager seemed distracted enough, scribbling away at some sort of list, so Voldemort hesitantly made his way over and cleared his throat.
"Quirinus. Customer." The manager said, glancing up at Voldemort's hooded figure a little doubtfully. "Sorry, Sir, he'll be with you in a moment."
Voldemort almost said "No worries", then realised he'd totally give himself away if he spoke, so he just nodded somewhat nervously as Quirrell made his way over. Oh God. They were so close to each other. How could he not even…
"Two g-galleons and a sickle for the two of these." Quirrell smiled and Voldemort's stomach flipped over. He soundlessly dug into his pocket to retrieve some money, panicking slightly when he realised he only had a galleon left.
"Uh…"
Quirrell seemed to notice his predicament, because he glanced to his manager, who was still pretty busy doing whatever. "Y'know what, we were gonna start a discount on that book anyway, a buy one get one free sort of deal. So that'll just be a galleon, then."
Oh God. He was still the sweetest man in the world. Voldemort handed over the galleon without a word, nodding again in thanks. C'mon, Quirrell. It's me. As Quirrell took the galleon from Voldemort's open palm, in a fit of desperation Voldemort clutched at the other man's wrist, causing him to yelp out a little in surprise.
"Hey!"
The manager looked up sharply, practically pushing Quirrell to the side. "I'm sorry, Sir, I know it's Quirinus Quirrell. But he's no threat. Azkaban weakened him completely. You don't need to worry about anything."
What the…
"I d-didn't do anything! He grabbed me! I never do anything to your p-precious customers and they still always say stuff!" Quirrell yelled, snatching up the galleon and pocketing it, before glowering at Voldemort. "T-take your books and you're welcome!"
"Quirinus, I'm telling you, you're on your final warning…"
"Y-yesterday an old man spat at me, and it was still my fault! The other day a co-worker dropped a book on my f-foot and it was my fault for working here. Last week I got sc-screamed at by two women but it's my fault because I'm dangerous and crazy and a villain, apparently!"
No. God fucking damn it, no. Voldemort bit his tongue to stop himself from saying that out loud, and had no choice but to stand there as Quirrell continued.
"Screw this job. I'm d-done." Quirrell left from behind the counter, grabbing his coat and shrugging it on. "I only stuck around because no one else w-would take me. I'll get what I've earned at the end of the week."
"If you take one step out of that door, you won't be getting anything!"
"Oh? You're not g-gonna give me the money I've earned for working at this place for two m-months? And I'm the bad guy? Take a note of this!" Quirrell added, pointing at Voldemort. "I c-can sue! And hey, I offer you a nice d-deal on what you're buying, and I get grabbed at. Fuck you, sir."
Voldemort would've applauded, if the words weren't being directed so coldly at him. I only wanted your attention. I'm sorry.
"Get out. Get out now." The manager hissed, storming towards Quirrell and practically hustling him out the door.
"You need to give me w-what I've earned! You need to!"
"End of the week." The manager growled. "Come back then."
"And d-don't cut me short! I've put so many hours in h-here and I need the money! I don't have anything else!"
"Out!" The manager opened the door and Quirrell glared at him before leaving. Voldemort immediately walked towards the door to follow him, only to get stopped.
"I'm so sorry, Sir, that…He had to go sooner or later. He was only meant to be here for a few days, but we got a little carried away. I know it's unbelievable, but he isn't dangerous, and he is quite a hard worker…"
"Mhmm…" Quite a hard worker? Quirrell was the hardest worker he knew, even with all the shit he'd gone through.
"Anyway, your…your books." The manager turned to go and get them, and as he did so Voldemort hurriedly left the shop. Damn, now where was Quirrell?
Wait, there he was, heading back to the alley where Voldemort had first seen him. He immediately set after him, desperate to call out his name and stop him. Voldemort reached out and grabbed both of Quirrell's arms once the coast was clear, yanking him back a little.
Quirrell yelled out in surprise and fear, desperately trying to break free. "No, no, stop it! I'm sorry! I'm l-leaving now, I promise!"
"It's –"
"I n-never meant to upset anyone! I'm going now, I'm not g-gonna come back either, please just let me go. Don't hurt me, I've had a f-fucking lifetime of that!"
"Squirrel, you moron, it's me." Voldemort cut across him desperately, letting go of Quirrell's arms and pushing his hood back a little. "I've been trying to find you for ages, man! Diagon Alley? Fucking nightmare for the likes of me!"
Quirrell stared at him, stunned, and didn't say anything for the longest time. It'd been around eight months, after all. Eventually he took a step closer, staring into Voldemort's eyes. "Oh my God."
"Sorry about the whole grabbing you thing – both in the bookshop and just now – but I didn't wanna risk saying anything in front of people, you know?" Voldemort continued, his voice hushed as he nervously glanced around. "It's way too risky. That's why it took me a while, I had to…"
"Oh my God." Quirrell repeated breathlessly, reaching out to touch Voldemort's shoulder. "It's…you're here."
"Of course I am." Voldemort smiled at him, a little overwhelmed too as he brushed his fingers over the hand on his shoulder. "I told you I'd never leave you. Well, not for good, anyway. I – Sorry. I'm sorry, I suck so much. I missed you like hell and…Oh, no, don't do that. Don't, please." Voldemort added desperately as his boyfriend began to cry. "Come here, I'm sorry. I'm sorry for just jumping at you like that." He hesitantly wrapped his arms around Quirrell, feeling so unbelievably satisfied when he did so. God, he'd missed this. He'd missed holding Quirrell and being held in return.
Quirrell squeezed him tight, looking up at him again in amazement, his eyes still watery. "I thought you didn't get my – my letter. Or you didn't care anymore. It's b-been so horrible…"
"I'm sorry. Your letter showed up a month late, and then I had to get away from the Death Eaters. I may, uh…have faked my own death. I wasn't sure if Bellatrix would fall for it, especially seeing as she was right about my being alive all this time. But it's been two months since then, y'know? I think…I think we're alright."
Quirrell was barely listening; he was now nuzzling his face in Voldemort's shoulder, still gripping tightly onto him. "You're here. I love you so much. You're actually here."
"I love you too. So, anyway, because I accidentally let slip that I can't die unless you die, the whole 'faking my death' thing is what you might call a work in progress. Basically, I've been missing for two months, and from what I can tell, no Death Eaters have been around here, right? So they don't know you're still alive."
"Um…" Quirrell replied, a bit bewildered. "I have no clue."
"Yeah, that's what I figured. But no worries. Listen, you're gonna need to do me a big favour, ok? And if you're not cool with it, I totally understand. It's just that to fake my death, I need you to fake yours."
Quirrell blinked back at him. "But –"
"Not entirely, man. Just from the Wizarding World. And judging by how fucking awful these people are to you, it won't be so much of a loss for you. But if you're not ok with that, then we'll have to figure something else out, I guess…"
"What else c-could we even do?" Quirrell asked, frowning slightly. "It'd be the only way to get rid of the Death Eaters, right?"
"I think so." Voldemort admitted, running one hand through Quirrell's soft hair. "But it's a lot to ask, especially after all the shit that's happened."
"I'll do it." Quirrell replied instantly. "No worries. I'll do it."
"Wait, I mean – you don't need to decide right away, it's a pretty big –"
"I want to be with you. I've waited so long already, and I'm gonna do whatever it takes." Quirrell insisted, his expression determined. "Just tell me what I g-gotta do."
Voldemort looked at him, before he leaned in and finally kissed him again. It'd been so long and it felt so perfect, and oh God, he loved Quirrell. The other man responded enthusiastically, wrapping his arms properly around Voldemort's neck as he did so.
"You're sure?" Voldemort whispered once they'd parted. "You're absolutely, totally sure I'm worth it?"
"We're worth it." Quirrell replied simply. "'Course I'm sure. Besides, everyone here is a douchebag."
Voldemort laughed quietly at that, pulling his hood up slightly. "Yeah, they're being real asses to you. Well…Come on, then." He hesitantly reached for Quirrell's hand, only to freeze when he glimpsed the sight of something nearby, only for it to vanish a second later. He wasn't even sure what it had been exactly but it looked like…like a human arm.
"Squirrel…" He said slowly. "Where are you staying now?"
Quirrell frowned a little at the change in Voldemort's expression and voice and was about to glance over his shoulder, only to be stopped by Voldemort. "Um…Everywhere, really. Any place that'll take me."
"Uh-huh. Listen to me, I want you to go back to the Leaky Cauldron, ok?"
"What? Why? What's going –"
"Ssh." Voldemort interrupted quietly. "I think we've been spotted. Do what I say and I'll meet up with you in a bit."
Quirrell's eyes widened and he gave Voldemort a hesitant nod. "If we're getting separated again, I swear to God –"
"I promise. Everything's gonna be fine. But you need to get out of here, alright? Now."
"I can help. Who's seen us? I can help you."
Voldemort shook his head immediately, having a horrible feeling about just who had spotted them. "Leaky Cauldron. Get a room if you can. I'll find you."
Quirrell looked like he was about to protest, before he pecked Voldemort's lips, gave him a hesitant smile, and then hurried off. Thank God.
"Bellatrix Lestrange…" Voldemort drawled after a few moments. "I saw you. Take off the invisibility cloak."
The air was still and the alleyway was silent. Voldemort waited impatiently, his hand grasping his wand which was concealed under his cloak. "Unless it isn't Bellatrix, and then in which case, I'm gonna have to dispose of you…No hard feelings…" Oh, wow. Dark Lord much? "Um…Or not, we'll figure something out."
There was a noise to his left and he whirled, brandishing his wand. "Bellatrix, c'mon. The game's up. I'd say I'm sorry I lied about dying and stuff…again…but I'm not. I'm done, ok? I don't want to do this anymore." He paused. "I am sorry for that. That I can't be evil for all you guys, because I know how much you all want me to be. And I'm sorry, but I just can't do it anymore. I…I tried."
Silence. "Bellatrix…Trixie. We had a blast over the years, right? Isn't it time we, I dunno, grew up? Settled down? That's what I want. I have a feeling you'd love it too if you met a guy and started a serious relationship. It's pretty cool, trust me."
"Cruci –"
Voldemort disarmed the spell quickly, his heart pounding in his chest as he whirled around. "Bellatrix, hey! What're you doing that for?"
"Because it was never me!" He heard her shriek from somewhere to his right, and he spun, his wand in what he hoped was her direction.
"It was never – what?"
"You never wanted to settle down with me! Crucio!"
He dodged just in time, his eyes narrowing. "Now that's – is that why you're throwing Unforgiveable Curses at me? You only wanted sex too!"
She screamed something again, and he dodged a few more curses. "You never tried, you never asked, and I loved you!"
"But how was I meant to know that?" Voldemort replied hurriedly, feeling a bit stupid arguing with thin air. "And will you please shut up? People are gonna wonder what's going –"
"Crucio!"
And that one hit him. He slammed into the wall of the building, already screaming in absolute agony, completely unable to stop himself. His eyes practically rolled into the back of his skull as he convulsed, over and over. Oh God, and she'd done this to Quirrell at the graveyard, and the Death Eaters had probably done it to him loads of times when he'd been kept away. Oh God. When would it stop, why couldn't he just die already, the pain…
He wheezed as he felt it reduce slightly and he was aware that he was sprawled on the ground. His muscles were burning as he attempted to lift his head, to find Bellatrix taking off her cloak. Had she stolen that from Potter or something? Oh, fuck, her wand was pointing at him again. "No…" He managed weakly. "Don't, please…"
"You're just like any other man." Was her only response. "Some Dark Lord. Itty bitty baby, just like that peon. Oh, you should've heard him scream, it was fantastic. Over and over. But he soon got used to it. First time is always the hardest, or so they say."
"Not – Dark Lord – anymore."
"So you keep saying. And y'know what? I believe you. I finally, finally believe you. Congratulations!" She knelt down, her wand pointed directly at his forehead. "I had no chance of killing the Dark Lord. Good thing you're not him anymore though, right?" She wrinkled her nose a little. "Mm. But then your little sweetums has to die too. So perhaps I'll just torture you for a little bit until they hear your screams. He'll come running."
Voldemort's grip tried to tighten on his wand, but he was shaking too hard. That had obviously been her intention.
"So, when he comes back, should I just kill him right away, or maybe Crucio until his mind snaps?" Bellatrix swayed her wand back and forth. "I think the second one, seeing as he robbed every Death Eater of their Lord. He's to blame. He's what's gonna kill you."
"If you'd – said you – felt that way before…"
"What? What would you have done?" Bellatrix snorted contemptuously. "It's such a joke. I loved you for years. I'd have done anything for you, and then…then he showed up and completely changed you! The sex better be good, that's all I'm saying. Not as good in bed as I am, I'll tell you that for –"
"See, that's…your issue." Voldemort replied through gritted teeth. "You think sex equals love and – that's not what it's about. You don't love me."
"Bullshit." She snapped back, her face flushing. "Anyway, what does it matter? You'll both die and then I can rule. I'll be the one in charge. After years of hard work I'll finally –"
"You talk too much." Voldemort interrupted. "You probably shouldn't do that, y'know. It gives your victims a little bit of time to stop shaking. Avada Kadavra."
Bellatrix Lestrange was dead before she even hit the ground. Voldemort pushed himself up, pocketing his wand, before he finally looked at her. Oh, God. Even though he knew this solved their problems, and that nothing else could've been done, he still felt the guilt. "I'm not the Dark Lord anymore." He said, before he picked her up. "That was the last…last time. I mean it. For Quirrell. I had to do it for Quirrell."
XxX
"Faking my death probably would have been less hassle." Was the first thing Quirrell said once Voldemort had explained, but then he smiled. "Congratulations. We're free."
They were back in their house, which had been abandoned for months, and Voldemort was sprawled out on their couch in contentment. God, he'd missed this place. "I know, man. I just feel like…I know I had no other choice, but it's still…I took the – her, I took her back to headquarters. I was expecting a bunch of Death Eaters, but they'd all split. Looks like they weren't as into ruling the world as Bellatrix thought they would have been."
"Did you leave a note for Narcissa and Lucius?" Quirrell asked. He was sitting in his armchair, wrapped in a blanket and was pretty much half asleep.
"Yeah. Don't worry. I took care of everything." Voldemort turned his head to look at him, and smiled shyly. "I missed you."
"I missed you too, dumbass." Quirrell yawned. "It sucked so much. Thank you for finding me."
"Of course." Voldemort hesitated. "You're not…scared, are you? That I killed her?"
"If you h-hadn't, I would've done." Came the reply. "She's the only person I'd have no g-guilty feelings about getting rid of. And she was going to murder us b-both, so…"
"I'd never do it to anyone ever again, but you know that, right?" When Quirrell nodded, Voldemort hesitated again. "I did some stuff while you were away, Squirrel."
"I know." Quirrell murmured.
"Not murdering. But torturing, I…I did that."
"I g-guessed."
"For you, though, I had to do it for you. And I'm sorry. For fucking it all up and letting them take you and not putting up a better fight."
"You're f-forgiven." Quirrell said sleepily. "It's our first n-night together after eight months. We can talk p-properly in the morning."
Voldemort smiled at that, sitting up on the couch. "You need to get to bed."
"Yeah, but it's too early for you…"
"So? I haven't cuddled you properly in forever. C'mon, we're going upstairs." Voldemort stood up and made his way over to Quirrell, running a hand through his soft hair and kissing him.
Quirrell made a small noise and then giggled. "Carry me?"
"Don't mind if I do." Voldemort replied, stooping down so that Quirrell wrapped his arms around Voldemort's neck and was lifted up bridal style. "That ok?"
"More." Quirrell mumbled tiredly as Voldemort began walking. "We're home."
"Yes we are."
"We're staying forever."
"You got it. And whatever you went through while we were separated, I'm gonna help you. You don't need to worry about Death Eaters or Bellatrix or anything anymore. You're safe, we both are, and I love you. And that one little bit of temptation I had almost ruined everything, and I'm so sorry…"
"Forgiven."
"But I'm still sorry. I still don't even know why I kissed her. Hands down the stupidest thing I've ever done. Except for letting them take you to Azkaban. And then letting them take you again later. Ugh. I suck."
Quirrell giggled tiredly. "A little, but we c-can…talk about it all later. I love you."
"You do? Even after everything?" Voldemort asked meekly, smiling when Quirrell nodded. "Because you mean everything to me. And I'm gonna stop for tonight before I get really sappy. So. Um. We're ok?"
Quirrell nuzzled Voldemort's neck as he closed his eyes. "Wonderful…" Was the last thing he murmured before he was fast asleep in Voldemort's arms.
Wow. It's done. Thank you so much to everyone who has reviewed, read, favourited and everything. This was my first ever Quirrellmort/Starkid story and I hope I did a good enough job. I love you guys! Thank you!