Part Eleven:

The following week Harry Potter was released from the infirmary, which naturally resulted in more parties and good cheer, much to Angelica's disgust. Additionally that week Angelica and the rest of the fifth years had to continue their O.W.L. examinations. Angelica managed to pull together enough of her mind to complete her remaining five exams: Potions, Care of Magical Creatures, Astronomy, Divinations, and History of Magic, though this is not to say she passed any of them. During the History of Magic exam she broke into tears when she had to answer a question about the location of the mountain troll rebellion of 1647, but she knew she wouldn't do well on that exam anyway. Angelica had shut down socially, rarely spending time in the common room, and acting very cold to her friends.

Fiona and Jonathan, having been her best friends for the past five years were able to figure out the cause of her depression after several days passed, as they knew how attached to Quirrell she was. They did not, of course know that her relationship with Quirrell had become something of a romantic one that year, nor did they know that she had witnessed his death, but they were aware enough to know that Angelica needed time alone to mourn.

The night before the end of the year feast Angelica went to bed early as usual, swallowed the last of the dreamless sleep potion, and soon fell asleep. It wasn't long before she was startled to find herself in the final chamber of the rooms beneath the trap door in the forbidden corridor, the room in which Quirrell died.

The room seemed empty, but not knowing what else to do she began walking around to explore the room better. The stone floor was cold under her bare feet, and it grew difficult to see as she progressed further into the room.

A hand wrapped itself around her left wrist. It felt warm, but scarred, with skin peeling, like someone who had a bad case of the chicken pox.

Angelica felt anxious, but not frightened, "Who's there?"

"Angie, I don't know how much time I have," Quirrell said urgently in his old voice.

"W-what?" asked Angelica as she tried desperately to see Quirrell's face in the darkness.

"I-I know you heard what he said about me, about how I did horrible things for him. Drank unicorn's blood…" Quirrell paused in disgust, "You, you have to know those things were against my will, the things I did – up until the end."

"I didn't think you would act like that, you seemed so sick all year, and it worried me. Then during the last few weeks you, you seemed so…far gone, like you were someone entirely different," Angelica confessed.

He sighed, "I'm ashamed to tell you this Angie, but in those last weeks it was me, he- he promised that if I got him the Philosopher's Stone he would gain a new body and therefore I would be just myself. I truly believed he would leave me. I became driven to get the Stone to the point I would have killed Mr. Potter if I'd – I'd had the chance, if he hadn't – " Quirrell could sense the fear building in Angelica. "The amount of pain he can cause, the punishments…he does not treat disappointment lightly. And the threats…But those aren't good excuses for how I acted. I should have been strong, but I just crumbled."

Uncertain of how she felt about Quirrell's truth Angelica stood silently, feeling on the one hand that she never actually knew Quirrell, that she'd been misled all this time into thinking he was a wonderful, kind, brilliant, and unselfish man. At this point her eyes adjusted to the dark and she could make out his head and saw that his turban was gone and that his blistered face was filled with sincere worry. Still, she didn't know what to say to him.

"Angie, please trust that I wish I had not been so weak and selfish. I know that nothing I say will change the way I acted. It was best that things ended the way they did, I couldn't have lived with myself had I been responsible for his return to power." He shuddered and gripped Angelica's wrist tighter. As if he knew what she was thinking, he began, "Everything that – that happened, between us was entirely by my own will. I only wish I hadn't let you down, that we could have spent more time together."

With this Angelica freed her wrist from his hand and threw herself into his arms, "I'm so sorry," she said muffled by tears and his robe.

"For what?" He asked, smoothing her hair with his right hand.

"That you had to go through so much horror. And," She paused, "I'm sorry I couldn't help you."

"You did, or at least you made this year easier to bear."

"But I couldn't help enough…"

Quirrell held her closer and was silent for a while. "No one could."

Angelica felt safe and happy again for the first time in weeks. In the midst of their conversation, and particularly being held in his arms Angelica completely forgot about O. exams, the growing rift she had caused between herself and her friends, and the fact that Quirrell had died a week before.

"You're going to wake up soon."

"What?"

"You're sleeping and you're going to wake up soon, but before you do I need to tell you something I should have earlier – I love you, Angie."

Her eyes started to glaze over from tears of happiness, but also of knowing their time was almost up. She gripped the back of his robe tighter, excess fabric gathered between her fingers. "I love you too, I've loved you since third year, don't – don't leave me again…" she mumbled; now fully crying.

Quirrell kissed her, which stopped the crying for a moment. "I know you don't want to wake up – I don't want you to leave either, but you can't stay here right now. Don't worry, we will find each other again."