It had been a whole week since they'd kissed, and Voldemort hadn't heard a word from Quirrell. He'd attempted to call him a few times, but it always went straight to his voicemail, and from how they'd left things it was clear Quirrell wasn't going to come back to the hotel in a hurry.

Voldemort groaned lamely, rubbing his forehead as he aimlessly stared down at his phone. He sent another text, just asking if Quirrell was alright, already knowing he'd get no response. "C'mon…" He muttered aloud, impatiently tapping his foot.

Quirrell needed his space, Voldemort got that. But seriously, not one damn text? After all that? He at least deserved a bit of clarification.

Unless something was wrong.

Voldemort shoved his phone in his pocket, running his hands through his hair until it was all tousled instead of in its usual slicked back style. Maybe it wouldn't be a bad idea to check up on him after all; if he really wanted to be left alone, that was fine, but Voldemort could at least make sure he was alright.

He stood from the bed, hastily smoothing back his hair as he glanced in the mirror so that he looked presentable and shrugged on the new jacket he'd bought himself. He then frowned, wondering if he looked too casual, and looked around for something else to wear before he caught a hold of himself. It wasn't a goddamn date, after all.

A date would be awesome, though. Voldemort smiled stupidly, unable to help himself as he pictured it. The way Quirrell had kissed him. The way he felt himself. It was all so new and different and – quite honestly – wonderful.

So, okay, if Quirrell was home – and he should be – maybe Voldemort could summon the courage up to ask him out on a date. After all, they still had to go rollerblading, and maybe they could make it a little more official. Voldemort's grin widened as he gave himself one final glance in the mirror, before taking a deep breath and leaving his room.

The walk to Quirrell's house passed by in a blissful blur, and he found himself nodding at passing strangers and smiling at kids, which was just crazy. Only a few months ago he'd been completely focused on taking over the world, and now he was thinking of nothing but Quirrell and the two of them living out their lives together in peace.

His illusion was abruptly shattered as he neared Quirrell's house to find a police car parked outside it. Voldemort frowned, taking a hesitant step closer to make sure it was definitely the right house, and when he realised it was his eyes widened. Something had been wrong. Was Quirrell in trouble?

"Quirrell?" He ran up the front path, hammering on the front door. "Quirrell! You in here?"

The door was abruptly swung open and Voldemort came face to face with Jamie and a cop. There was a long silence, before Jamie jabbed a finger at him accusingly. "You! The weird guy! Where's Quirinus?"

Voldemort immediately resisted the urge to punch him in the face. "Look, I don't know what the fuck is going on, I haven't seen him for –"

"It was you, wasn't it?" Jamie gasped, turning to the policewoman. "Quirinus kept leaving the house, and I'm sure it was to see this guy. He knows something! He'll know where he is!"

"Is Quirrell missing?"

"Don't act like you don't know! He's been missing for a whole week!" Jamie closed his eyes, breathing heavily. "After I – I yelled at him, he left the house and he hasn't been back since. I know I was out of line, but –"

After the kiss, too.

"I'm in the dark here." Voldemort managed, raising both hands in surrender. "What about his parents?"

"They're out looking for him. Devastated." The cop spoke up, still glancing at him suspiciously. "We've searched the area, but it appears he's no longer in this town."

"He can't have gone far." Voldemort attempted, realising he'd better leave fast if Quirrell's parents were around and could potentially see him at any moment. "I'll look for him. I'm sure he'll be around, he has to be. D'you have any leads? Someone might have spotted him!"

"This isn't CSI." Jamie countered. "No one's kidnapped him, he's just missing. Worrying us all sick."

"There are a number of factors we have to consider." The policewoman interrupted before Voldemort could snap. "We know Quirinus is mentally ill, so we have to find him soon. We also know he was last seen in this house, so –"

"No." Voldemort shook his head hastily, realising this was a really stupid thing to say, but at this point he was too concerned to care. "No, actually, he – he was last with me."

Jamie's eyes widened, and he stepped out of the house, looking as though he was fully prepared to knock Voldemort out. "It's true, then. He's cheating on me!"

"No, no, he isn't. Wasn't. Whatever." Voldemort raised his hands again. "We're just friends. He was upset with the way you treated him, and I don't blame him. Don't even try to pull the entitlement card here. You screwed up."

"What happened, sir?" The policewoman asked him seriously. "Did anything else upset him before he left? You're the one person with new information for us. You have to tell us what you know."

"I – can't." Voldemort began, doing his best not to come across as suspicious and realised he was failing miserably. "I'm gonna look for him. I have to – yeah, start searching. Sorry. I'll be back!" He backed away, before turning and running off, fully aware that he was now a likely suspect.

XxX

Quirrell tugged at the sleeves of his sweater, his teeth chattering as he longingly stared at coffee shop. He was freezing and badly needed something warm or he'd be in trouble; he was already on the brink of passing out. This 'running away' plan really wasn't working out too well, but at least he'd gotten out of the town. Now his parents could be happy without him and have the chance to live their lives without constantly worrying. Now Voldemort would be spared from always being stuck with him too.

"Are you alright?"

He flinched violently at the sound of a voice, and turned his head to see a young woman dressed all in pink staring at him with concern. "H-Huh?"

"Yeah, you look cold. And tired, come to that. D'you need money for a taxi?" She asked, already looking through her purse.

"N-no, it's okay. I j-just want c-coffee." He explained, then realised how bad that sounded. "But – but that's okay too. No w-worries."

"Has something happened, hon? Do you need me to call someone for you?"

"I – I'm not a lost ch-child." Quirrell snorted, managing a weak laugh. "I'm f-fine."

"You don't look it. Hey, c'mon, let's go inside and I'll get you that coffee." She suggested, gesturing for him to move.

"Are – are you a cop?"

"No," The woman raised her eyebrows in surprise, before grinning. "Why? Are you running from the law? Did you rob a bank?"

He laughed again, already feeling a lot more comfortable in her presence. "I-I'm running, but not f-from the law. They'll p-probably take me a-away if they find me, though."

"Who will?"

"My f-family. And ex. They'll t-take me to hospital. Or th-they'll just be better off w-without me." Quirrell's voice suddenly cracked and he backed away. "I g-gotta go. Forget it."

"Hey, hey, slow down there! I'm buying you coffee, remember? And you don't have to worry about anyone taking you anywhere." She told him reassuringly, and he found himself believing her despite himself. "Why would they take you away?"

"I'm m-mentally ill, y'know." He told her in a hushed voice, swallowing nervously. "I'm a b-burden."

"You're not a burden." She replied immediately. "And whoever's said that to you doesn't deserve the time of day, and you definitely shouldn't listen to them. That's why you're out here freezing your ass off?"

"K-kinda."

"Honey, do yourself a favour, and go home. After I buy you coffee and something to eat, of course." She took his arm and he surprised himself by not wanting to pull away. "And if you need a taxi, I'll get that for you too."

"Y-you're very nice," He told her dumbly as she led him into the shop. "I'm Qu-Quirrell."

"I'm Devin."

"I'm a-also gay." Quirrell informed her, just so she didn't think he was coming on to her.

Devin laughed, patting his arm as she moved away. "Makes no difference to me, Quirrell. Just promise me that after this you'll go home, okay?"

He hesitated for a second, weighing up his options, before nodding carefully. "M-maybe. I mean, p-probably. Yeah." He told her, and took a seat as he decided what he was going to do.