wonderful

🐿

Occasionally, Quirrell would sometimes wonder what would happen if he had never met Voldemort at all. He knew that no matter what roads they took, him and Voldemort would always find each other. They were meant to be, he knew that for sure.

But if they hadn't met until a later date, what would've happened? Would he still be teaching defense against the dark arts at Hogwarts? Quirrell was happy with his current situation, but he still longed for the... simpler times. He loved being a professor, even if it meant staying up till sunrise to grade papers or having to deal with the students who were intent on making him suffer, whether it be conversations from across the room, plain disrespect, or interrupting the class. It was wasted potential, he had initially thought as he was thrown into Azkaban. A man as intelligent as him, locked in prison to rot. He was one of the brightest professors at Hogwarts, even winning several awards. If you were to ask him about it, Quirrell would say it was wasted potential.

He sighed quietly, glancing over at Voldemort who had fallen asleep hours ago. The steady rise and fall of his chest distracted Quirrell from his thoughts for a few moments. It wasn't like Quirrell had a normal sleep schedule, but he was typically sleeping, or at least trying to, at this time of... night. Day? Whatever. All he could do was just sit in bed and wait till it was a reasonable hour, maybe six or seven, then get out of bed. Voldemort would complain, try and convince him to stay before he gave up, and Quirrell could just tend to his garden.

He'd been so deep in his thoughts that he didn't notice the rustling of fabric and an arm being slung over his waist. In the pitch black darkness of their bedroom, Quirrell could still see the rough outline of his lover's face thanks to the moonlight which shone in from through the window. He couldn't read his expression very well, but if he had to guess, Voldemort was not happy with being awake.

"Go to sleep. You're thinking too loud." Voldemort groggily murmured, eyes half shut.

"What does that even mean?"

"Whatever. What're you even doing?"

"Just thinking."

...

Silence. He knew it was late, but was Voldemort really tired enough to fall asleep mid conversation? Quirrell couldn't blame him, though.

"I'm waiting. Go on."

"What- oh. Just about stuff, I guess. Nothing important."

"If it wasn't important you wouldn't be awake. Something's bothering you."

"No, I swear. I-It's not a big deal."

"Okay, then tell me what you're thinking if it's 'not that important'."

Quirrell huffed, fiddling with the hem of his shirt. He didn't want to tell him. What if Voldemort took it the wrong way and thought that this was his way of breaking up with him? He wouldn't even be able to live with himself if that happened. Just stop- you're overthinking. You can just... play it the safe route, Quirrell. Keep the details limited, or just lie-

"Hey, hey. It's okay." a soft voice spoke out. Voldemort sat up, bringing Quirrell with him and encasing him in a comforting hug. "You don't have to say anything if you don't want to."

"Sorry, I just- I just..."

"You don't have to explain yourself, okay?"

"Okay."

"Okay." Voldemort repeated, followed by a long silence. Their bedroom was quiet, other than the quiet breathing of both men. But, Quirrell eventually spoke up, breaking the stillness of the environment.

"I was thinking about how it'd be if we never met." he started, looking up at Voldemort to see if he would react in any way. He didn't seem to be offended, only responded with a hum that confirmed he heard what Quirrell had said. So, he continued. "Not that I regret anything or whatever but- okay, yeah, you get it. But I still could've been teaching at Hogwarts. I'm happy with everything the way it is right now, of course, b-but I guess I was just curious as to how everything would've been if we... I'm just being redundant. You get my point, right? I just didn't want you to get upset or anything or-"

"Squirrel, you know I love you, right?"

"Yeah..."

"I'll keep on loving you no matter what dumb things come out of your mouth? It's okay to reminisce about the past. You can tell me anything, and I will listen, no matter what."

"I love you too." Quirrell murmured, forehead resting on Voldemort's shoulder. " 'M sor-"

"You don't need to apologize."

He didn't know how long it took for him to fall asleep- Quirrell doubted that it took long, because when he opened his eyes, there was a soft orange glow cast throughout the room. Voldemort laid next to him, back against his. When he looked out the window, the sun was just barely above the horizon, the sky a mix of oranges, pinks, and blues.

As he slowly tried to get up, Voldemort stirred in his sleep. He paused, waiting a few seconds before attempting to stand up once more. This did not work as well as he hoped, because when he glanced over his shoulder, the other man was looking right back at him. Voldemort quietly groaned, covering his eyes with his hand. "Go back to sleep."

"But it's 6:30-"

"Too bad." he said, grabbing Quirrell's arm and pulling him down onto the bed with a soft thud. "Far too early t' be awake."

Quirrell grinned. "Okay, maybe just a few more minutes."

"Hours."

"You're ruining my schedule."

"You're cooperating."

He paused. "Yeah, I guess you're right. I can't argue with that."

"Damn right, you can't. Now, sleep."

And Quirrell did fall back asleep, perfectly content with everything in life. It was moments like this that he loved, the serenity of it all, the playful bickering with Voldemort. He wouldn't trade this for anything else in the world.

It was okay.

Wonderful.