Bellatrix sighed. Honestly this meeting was getting nowhere. These Death Eaters were as helpful as....well, her comb. Actually no wait, her comb actually helped her look good and these followers of the new Dark Queen, did nothing.
"Enough!" She cried, lifting her arms in a wide gesture, to get attention. The constant chatter fell silent immediately. "Does anyone have any more to say, or is this meeting over?!" There was silence, before a trembling hand raised above the heads. It was Yaxley.
"Ummm. My Lady, I...I have something to say." His voice shook slightly as he spoke.
"Yes Yaxley?" Bellatrix asked, impatiently, her bob bouncing as she hopped down from her throne.
"Well, I was, um, in the Ministry of Magic. You know, spyin' on them and all that. As you do, and I happened to go into the Department of Mysteries, cos I got curious and at first, I didn't see anything in particular, but then I went-"
"HURRY UP!"
"There was the black diary!" Yaxley blurted.
He seemed afraid of Bellatrix, which she was happy about but sometimes- Wait, what black diary? No! It couldn't be.... Did he..... Maybe......But then that means......
"He's alive!" She whispered. All the Death Eaters turned to her.
"What did you just say, My Queen?" Lucius asked her. She ignored him.
"The meeting is now over. In 2 days, this time exactly gather here again and we'll talk." She muttered, seeming slightly detatched. She was slightly bouncing as she exited the room, a bright smile on her face. When she reached her room, she shut the door, locked it. Walking over to the middle of the room, she leant back to fall onto her bed. She grabbed the photo that she had moved from her mirror to her bedside table and lifted it to eye-level.
"I knew it, my King, You're alive. You're probably still weak, but I'll find you and bring you home, where you belong. I promise, my Master!"
Bellatrix fell asleep that night with the photo clutched tightly to her chest and a smile on her face. The next day, there was a spring in her step and she only hit her followers a few times. She was going to succeed in her mission. She was going to find him.
______________________________________________________________________________________________________
Quirrell did go back to the market place, numerous times. The market was there every Monday, Wednesday and every other Saturday. Quirrell often went when Tyler was working in the hotel that he had saved the wizard from and Voldemort was at Kwaffee. Sarah welcomed him everytime with a bright smile and she was quickly becoming a very good friend. About two weeks after they first met, Quirrell decided to invite her round.
"S-Sarah?" He asked tentatively. She had just finished with a customer and was writing out the sale she had just made (two cynthia bouquets) in her little book.
"Yes, Q?" For some reason she only called him by the first letter in his name, but Quirrell didn't mind. It made a nice change. She was still sat, pouring over her notebook.
"I was w-w-wondering if you w-wanted to come r-round some time?" He offered. She lifted her head quickly, her red ponytail bouncing at the back of her neck.
"Q! I'd love too!" She gushed, leaping up and wrapping her arms tightly around his neck. When she pulled back, her cheeks were tinted slightly pink and Quirrell tried not to smile at the sight. Once he'd gotten to know her, she was rather childish and cheeky, yet really kind. She and Tyler would really get along, Quirrell thought.
"F-friday good f-for you?" He asked. She tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear and looked up at him through her eyelashes.
"Anytime is good." Quirrell grinned at her.
You see the thing is, Quirrell wasn't oblivious. He knew that Sarah was flirting with him constantly, but she was kind to him and was becoming a good friend. However, he didn't like her back in that way. He....well, he liked a certain pale wizard who had ruined his life for 6 months but was somehow making him smile more and more as time passed. Yet, he was sure that Voldemort didn't like him back that way and, well, Quirrell might be trying to be friends again, but he hadn't forgiven him yet and it was all just a mess. Things with Sarah would be a lot simpler. She was pretty and funny and smart, but Quirrell just didn't love her. I could, he told himself. I could love her, which is why he attempted flirting back a bit.
"I'll p-pick you up a-at 3. Then w-we have some t-time before my r-roommates get home." He offered, moving slightly closer so that their arms brushed against each other. Sarah's breath caught and Quirrell felt bad for leading her on, but he could love her. He will love her.
"Sounds good. Meet here?" Quirrell nodded. He didn't really want to keep the charade up for much longer, so feigned looking at his watch. The watch was actually Tyler's but he was given it by his kind roommate.
"I-I am so s-sorry but I-I'm gonna have t-to go." He gave her a quick hug as he had done the last few times he had visited and as they pulled away, he made a split-second desicion and kissed her cheek. Her face heated up under his lips and when he pulled away, her cheeks were bright red. He smiled kindly at her. "B-bye Sarah!"
With that, he turned and walked back home, feeling a lot better. He was finally going to do something to help sort the mess that had become his life. There was a slight spring in his step. As he walked, he looked out at the crowds bustling past, when a bush of dark hair caught his eye....It wasn't.....couldn't be. A teenage girl walking ahead of Quirrell was swerving between the crowds, her dark brown hair flowing past her shoulders. He tried to push past the people to get to her. He needed to. He needed to speak to her. He needed to look at her and know she wasn't just a figment of his imagination.
Quirrell pushed through to get to her. Shoulders and bags barged into him and people pushed past, but he just pushed back. Finally, she wasn't too far away. He reached out a hand and grabbed her shoulder, desperately. She turned....and it wasn't her. It wasn't Astrid. He had wanted to thank her for helping him. For giving him hope, but maybe he had made her up. It was infuriating and filled him with a sense of sadness and Quirrell wanted to run and cry and scream. Maybe he was crazy. He could feel his eyes prickle slightly. What was wrong with him?! He was a grown man and the teenage girl that was not her was staring at him like he was crazy.
"Sorry. Can I help you?" She asked. When he couldn't answer, she sidled away, with a wary expression.
Quirrell turned and ducked his head, pushing through the crowd to get home. He went down the streets, having memorised the way by now. His head was bent so no one could really see his face. When he got to his house, he fumbled for the spare key. Upon finding it, he let himself in and collapsed straight onto the sofa. Why did the universe hate him?! Why did it play such cruel tricks on him?!
He curled up a bit and thought back to when they'd met. When he was stuck behind bars for what felt like forever and she happily sat outside his cell and just talked to him as if he was a normal human being. She was like an angel, almost too good to be true and apparently made up as well. He sighed and sat up. Why was he so emotional over this? 'Get control of yourself!' he told himself.
Suddenly the sound of keys in the lock rung out and Quirrell attempted to pull himself together for whoever was walking in at the moment. Voldemort walked in, a dark hoodie pulled up, slightly resembling his cape and some black jeans. He stopped when he saw Quirrell and his scowl lifted a bit.
"I-I-I'm assuming your d-day sucked?" Quirrell asked. The other wizard dragged himself over and flopped onto the other sofa.
"Yeah it did." He said. Quirrell didn't reply and the room was suddenly filled with an awkward tension. The dark-haired wizard could feel his friend's eyes on him but didn't want to look up and instead just sat there.
Voldemort kept his eyes trained on Quirrell. He had gotten better since he had arrived. The circles under his eyes were only partly there. He still wakes up everynight, either crying or screaming, but neither Voldemort or Tyler know what to do. It only lasts a few minutes before it quietens down and no one mentions it in the morning. He'd also been gaining weight, looking less like skin and bones, more like a normal person. His hear was longer too, falling tousled down his forehead. Voldemort wanted to reach out and brush it off his forehead a bit. Stupid hair being in the way of his eyes! Quirrell was sitting slightly awkwardly, as if he was exhausted. He most probably was. He still seemed quite fragile but better. That was all that mattered. That he was getting better.
He didn't want to tell Quirrell about his day. It was probably one of the worst days he had had working at Kwaffee. He was pretty sure he was gonna be fired tomorrow. He'd been caught taking money from the till and had fought Stacy all day.When Jack, who made the coffees and worked alonside the other two, heard them, he stood up infront of Voldemort and told him to leave her alone. Of course, Voldemort, former Dark Lord and the man who terrified almost the whole Wizarding World and nearly took it over, wasn't having any of it. He had reached for his wand and sent a Cruciatus Curse at him. Jack fell to the floor, writihing in agony and someone screamed. For a split second, Voldemort looked at him at his feet and wanted to stop. He felt bad. What was happening to him?! Upon seeing everyone's faces, he cast a large memory spell so they all forgot. Then he ran out and disappeared into the crowd. It had been a nightmare.
He sighed loudly and turned his gaze away from his.....what even was Quirrell? Were they friends again?
"I-I, um, invited Sar-rah round. For Friday." Quirrell muttered. Voldemort's head shot up like a whip. Oh no, not her. He felt the hatred boil up inside him, rising to the surface. She was just using Quirrell, she didn't care about him at all.
"What?" He whispered, in a slightly menacing tone. He saw Quirrell squirm as he tried to think of what else to say.
"I i-i-invited h-her round." He said, sounding slightly scared and very anxious.
"Why?" Voldemort asked incredulously.
"I-I-I thought sh-she might want t-to meet you two. I w-w-wanted it to be l-like a date." He said. The pale wizard suddenly frowned.
"You asked her on a date?" Quirrell nodded. Voldemort stood up and strode straight into his bedroom, ignoring Quirrell's eyes on him.
He couldn't understand the mix up of emotions inside him. It was a mix of bubbling anger and rage and an almost overwhelming sadness. He buried his face in his pillow and screwed his face up. He hated Sarah with a passion. He couldn't put his skeletal finger on it but she just pissed him off. Like a lot. She just was twisted and sick and using Quirrell, he knew it. She would hurt him even more than he already was.
Why would Quirrell do this? He didn't really like Sarah, did he? Oh Wizard God, what if he did?!What if Quirrell genuinely liked Sarah? He would be inviting her round a lot more. She has sunk her claws into him already! Voldemort let out a slight welp before slapping himself for it. No! He might not be the Dark Lord anymore, but that doesn't mean he was going to be weak. He buried his face back in his pillow and tried to ignore his constant running thoughts.
Quirrell buried his head in his hands, fingers raking through his hair. What was all that about? Argh! Now was not the time! Seeing....well, Not-Astrid was messing with his head. He couldn't think straight. What if this was all fake? What if it was all real?! What does he do?! Suddenly, his thoughts were swimming so fast, he couldn't even hold onto one. They kept slipping through his fingers and it was hurting his head. He didn't know what he was thinking or feeling, it was just consuming. Some massive void was eating him from the inside and he couldn't stop it.
Tyler opened the door to his own apartment and upon seeing Quirrell, dropped his coat and hurried to his side. He had thought his friend had been getting better. He was hunched over, hands at the side of his head, fingers disappearing into his wavy brown hair, his brown eyes wide and unfocused. What was going on? At his touch, Quirrell flinched before bringing his hands down and looking at Tyler.
"I'm really sorry." He whispered. It was the only time Tyler had heard Quirrell talk without stuttering and that fact alone, struck a string in his heart. He pulled Quirrell close to his chest and wrapped his arms around him. The grown man in his arms deflated like a balloon. Tyler felt like he was the only thing still holding his dark-haired friend together. They sat there for a few minutes before Quirrell drowsily lifted his head off Tyler's shoulder.
"D-do you reme-e-ember S-Sarah?" Tyler nodded.
"She's c-coming o-over on S-Saturday. I-i-is that o-okay?" Tyler grinned and nodded.
"Sure. Sarah's nice. You two are getting close, aren't you?" He asked teasingly, in an attempt to cheer him up. Quirrell just shrugged.
"I th-think I m-might go to b-bed now." He whispered and Tyler looked up at him properly. Sad tired eyes looked back at him, set into a face morphed into a weary expression. 'He is so exhausted emotionally.' thought Tyler and he felt the worry and concern settle deep in his heart.
He helped his friend set up his bed on the sofa, as they did every night. When it was all done, Quirrell sat on top of the blankets and looked straight ahead with a sad look on his face. Tyler knew he should say something but he couldn't think of what.
"You can....you know, tell me what's, um, bothering you. Whenever you want."
"Yeah I kn-know."
Okay. So. I haven't updated in over a month. Despite saying I will update more often. I am sorry about that but this chapter was really difficult to get moving.
This chapter was also getting kinda long so I had to split it up which is why it ends a bit oddly.
Anyways, that just means that I can get writing on the next section almost straight away cos I know exactly what is going to happen and there is less waiting for you guys.
So yeah. I am rubbish at these comments at the bottom but I needed to say this stuff.
-Blah478