Help Is Only So Far Away

Part 6

A/N So this is the last of my already written up parts. This means that the time in between updates will become significantly longer, so sorry about that. I will try to not just disappear and not post for ages, because I hate it when that happens and you guys probably hate it too. Just so you know.

Bellatrix was up to something. Lucius was sure of it. He knew his old friend well but she was always difficult to read. He knew that she was planning something, but he had no clue as to what. He pranced his way into the study and twirled infront of her, before stopping and staring her right in the eyes.

"Bellatrix, I know you want to fight them again. So do I, but what happens when we win? What will we do then? The Dark Lord isn't here to lead us anymore." She gave a light laugh at that.

"Oh don't you worry, my dear Lucius. I shall take care of that!" She grinned at him. It was full of malice and she looked crazy, her eyes dark and twinkling. It terrified Lucius but there was nothing he could do.

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Voldemort took a deep breath. It had been a month since Quirrell had had that fight with his parents. Quirrell had managed to get a room at a muggle's hotel and he was just on the other side of this door. Despite deciding to plan something, he hadn't been able to think of anything! Never mind that as the Dark Lord, he always had an endless number of ideas for his evil plans......but those were evil plans and this was not. This was different. 

With nothing else to do, he had just kept on following Quirrell, to keep tabs and make sure he was okay. He himself had started to realise quite how weird and stalkerish this was and decided to come visit Quirrell. It was a long shot. For all Quirrell knew, Voldemort was dead and this was after the betrayal, but Voldemort had to see him. His eyes, his face properly, his smile. He had only seen these things twice. Once when they first met and he had convinced Quirrell to allow him to attach his soul to the back of his head. The second time, was after they had been separated, in the graveyard. He hadn't seen him since. 

When he came to the door of the hotel room in front of him, he started to fill up with nervousness. A big lump appeared in his throat, his knees felt weak and his hands shook with the slightest tremor.  What the hell was going on with him?! He used to be the Dark Lord! He never got nervous! Over anything! He shook his head and took another deep breath. He needed to do it soon, otherwise he wouldn't have the nerve. This was his single chance to get his best and only friend back.

He made his hand into a fist and knocked on the door.

"H-hold on!" There were some scraping noises and footsteps and the door opened. He was met with chocolate brown eyes that held so much warmth, hope and knowledge. They were so beautiful......just like Quirrell.

Wait, what?! Voldemort shook his head again, whilst frowning. He was probably just happy to see Quirrell after so long. That was all.

"Um, hello?" he said with a sheepish smile. Quirrell's face was frozen in shock, his mouth slightly open and eyes wide. He just stared, not doing anything. Voldemort stood awkwardly, waiting for something to happen. After a moment's silence, he asked "Should I come in or-"

"You're d-dead!"

"Well, I'm obviously not dead! Otherwise I wouldn't be here!........Can I come in?" Quirrell stared for a second longer, then his face contorted into a furious, resentful glare.

"HOW DARE YOU?! HOW ABSOLUTELY DARE YOU?! YOU LET ME THINK YOU WERE DEAD WHEN REALLY YOU WERE ALIVE THIS WHOLE TIME!! YOU SHITHEAD!! FIRST THE BETRAYAL - DON'T EVEN GET ME STARTED ON THAT! - THEN JUST LEAVING ME TO ROT IN AZKABAN AND FINALLY LETTING ME MOURN YOU FOR 2 WHOLE MONTHS!" Quirrell's eyes were flashing and small bubbles were forming at the corners of his mouth. Voldemort was slightly scared. He had never seen Quirrell get so angry. He knew that he could shout, he had heard him at his parents' house, but this was a whole different level. The fury in his eyes was unmatched to any Voldemort had ever seen and it was terrifying. 

"I HATE YOU! IT WAS TORTURE IN AZKABAN! THAT'S THE ONLY WORD FOR IT AND YOU JUST LEFT ME! I HATE YOU! I WISH I HAD MY WAND WITH ME RIGHT NOW COS I WOULD KILL YOU ON THE SPOT OR MAYBE MAKE YOU SUFFER FIRST WHO KNOWS?! YOU CAN'T JUST DO THIS! YOU HAVE RUINED MY LIFE AND I CAN'T EVER FIX THIS SO GET OUT! GO FAR FAR AWAY AND DON'T EVER COME BACK! I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU!!!!!"

Quirrell had started hitting him as hard as he could and, for such a seeminly weak man, he could really hit. Voldemort had at first,tried to resist but after a while, just let him. He deserved it, all of it. He was so stupid to think that Quirrell would just accept him again, even want to listen to anything that he had to say. Not after everything he had done. It's fine, he would leave. He felt the punches stop, and looked up to see some people, grabbing Quirrell and taking him away, whilst he kept on yelling, struggling to escape their grip. Voldemort panicked, Quirrell was being taken away again. Where were they going?! Quirrell had just gotten his freedom and was about to lose it again. 

"NO STOP! CRUCIO!" The man who was mostly carrying Quirrell, fell to the floor, convulsing in pure agony. Quirrell fell as well, rolling a little, and shut up instantaneously. The other guys who had tried to take Quirrell away held up their hands in surrender, terrified and confused. Voldemort grabbed Quirrell by the forearm and pulled him up, standing protectively infront of him, still pointing his wand at the others.

"Are you okay?" He asked, still glaring warily at the disgusting muggles.

"Yes, I......j-just stay away from m-me! Don't ever c-contact me again!" Voldemort turned to face him properly, the muggle clothes he had stolen restricting his movements.

"Okay......if that's what you want. You won't ever see me again." Voldemort's heart broke. He could feel it shattering at the sincerity in Quirrell's eyes. It felt like his insides were being tortured and there was nothing he could do but keep a strong emotionless face for Quirrell so that he didn't see the wreck. But if it was what Quirrell wanted then he would just deal with it. Quirrell gave him one last unreadable look, then disappeared back into his room. Voldemort turned to the others. They all looked confused and were staring warily between him and his wand.

"If I find out that any of you have even touched him," he gestured towards Quirrell's hotel door. "You have me to answer to, understand?" He was giving his best glare, hoping that this would keep them away from Quirrell. They all vaguely nodded, staring at him petrified. With that, Voldemort stalked down the corridor and made his way out of the hotel, with each step, a piece of himself dying inside.