Hello, and welcome to my first ever Quirrellmort fanfic – because who DOESN'T love this adorable 'A Very Potter Musical' pairing? The title will probably change in the future, because at the moment I currently can't think of anything better, so…sorry…

Currently rated T, but could possibly be upgraded to M for future chapters (nudge, nudge, wink).

Anyway, I hope you enjoy, and I'd love it if you left a review! :D

~Shego x

Life had a funny way of turning out for Voldemort.

Years ago, if someone had told him he'd be capable of loving a person, of even having feelings which didn't involve hate and anger, he'd have laughed in their faces. Emotions like that were for the weak, and he was certainly anything but that.

Sex didn't count, because back then it didn't mean anything. Bellatrix was always up for a 'bit of fun' and they had formed a 'no strings attached' kind of arrangement. Love certainly never came into it.

But now…He'd found someone he'd quite honestly die for. Someone who'd been right beside him all this time. A little someone named Quirinus Quirrell.

Voldemort stretched out from his position on the couch, lifting his head to see his partner, who was still sitting at the kitchen table, feverishly marking papers for his damn muggle students. Since Quirrell could hardly go back to Hogwarts after the…uh…eventful year the two of them had spent there (Voldemort attaching himself to Quirrell's soul and living off the back of his head, blah blah…), he now taught in a nearby muggle school. He was far braver than Voldemort in that sense – he certainly wouldn't be able to stand going there every day in front of teenagers who had no respect for their teachers at all.

"Quirrell?" Voldemort called out, trying to fight the irritation out of his somewhat raspy voice. "You nearly done?"

"Just a sec." Quirrell replied distractedly, rubbing his forehead. "Be right with you."

Voldemort rolled his eyes as he huffed, "Jeez, man, you've been sitting there for about two hours! Can't you just give them all a B- or something?"

Quirrell finally glanced up and Voldemort noticed how exhausted his partner really was. "Voldemort, please." The man half-begged. "I need to get this done for tomorrow's class. If you're bored, go up to bed and I'll join you in a moment. Promise."

Voldemort stood up, stretching with a yawn as he made his way over to where Quirrell was sitting. When he approached, Quirrell tensed, sensing a lecture about his workload, but Voldemort simply rubbed both of his shoulders soothingly. "Dude. You work way too hard." He murmured, kissing the professor's neck as he did so. "But if you want, I can make something else har –"

"Voldemort!" Quirrell blushed fiercely as he shrugged the hands away from his shoulders. "Not now. C'mon, you know how busy I am."

"Ugh." Voldemort huffed, storming away with a disgruntled sigh. "Why did you have to be a teacher? Why not something mundane, like working in an office?"

Quirrell looked at him with a rather hurt expression. "You know how much I love to teach…"

Voldemort winced at the look on his lover's face as he walked back to sit on the chair opposite him, reaching for Quirrell's free hand. "Yeah. I know. Sorry, man. You deserve to do something you love, seeing as I fucked up the Defence Against the Dark Arts position for you."

"You hardly fucked it up, Voldy." Quirrell was now smiling his adorably innocent smile as he squeezed Voldemort's hand back. "We wouldn't have met otherwise, right? Besides, I always wanted to be a Herbology teacher…Defence Against the Dark Arts really isn't my thing. As you probably guessed."

Voldemort smiled back, his thumb circling Quirrell's palm gently, when they were suddenly interrupted by a knock on the door.

Voldemort raised his eyebrows. "Since when do we get visitors?"

"We shouldn't be getting any." Quirrell responded anxiously, as he stood from his chair. "People think you're dead, so it can't be any Auror's sniffing around. It could be a muggle, but it's a little late for house calls…"

"Should I answer it?"

Quirrell shook his head quickly. "No. What if it is someone from the Ministry? They'd kill you on sight and then I'd be sent back to Azkaban for harbouring the Dark Lord."

Voldemort winced – he still hated it when Quirrell even mentioned Azkaban, as it only made him remember what a shithead he'd been and how much he'd hurt his poor Squirrel. "Ok." He mumbled, shifting uncomfortably as the familiar feelings of guilt crept over him (luckily Quirrell didn't appear to have noticed), "Let's just wait it out."

Quirrell bit his lip as the hammering on the door sounded again, intensifying in volume. "It's alright. I'll go answer it. Stay here." He moved past Voldemort and as he did, Voldy grabbed his hand and kissed it to show him how loved he was and murmured a "Don't be long."

Quirrell grinned back at him as he left the dining room and proceeded to the front door. His palms were sweating and his teeth were beginning to chatter in his nervousness. He scolded himself for being such a wuss, but he couldn't help it. What if it was someone who had come for Voldemort? What would happen to the man he loved?

He stopped when he reached the door and breathed in and out a couple of times, before unlocking it and cautiously pulling it open, coming face to face with the last person he'd expected to see.

The excited grin fell from Bellatrix Lestrange's face as the two of them regarded each other before exclaiming at the same time, "YOU?!"

"What the hell are you doing here, you little peon?" Bellatrix snarled, her wand already in her hand.

"I –I c-c-could ask y-you the same q-question." Quirrell whispered, his stutter creeping back into his voice, the way it always did when he was scared or anxious. His hand gripped tightly onto the door handle, ready to slam the door back in her face. "I th-thought y-y-you were d –"

A sneer came over the death eater's pretty face. "Dead? Just like my Lord is supposed to be dead? I know he's in there, and I know he's been waiting for us to return to him. I've been careful, hiding away from the Ministry who stupidly thought that Weasley bitch killed me, tracking my Lord down…"

"B- but –"

"It took me longer than I'd have liked. There were so many false trails from the other Death Eaters and I'd been to every fucking place they'd suggested. Until I saw him." A slow smile tugged at her mouth as her chest rose and fell rapidly with each breath. "I saw him, I swear to Wizard God, in this shitty muggle territory. I've finally found him. And I know he's in there, so STAND ASIDE!"

"N-n-no." Quirrell protested desperately, cursing his stutter, "You're wrong. H-He's not in h-here, I s-s-swear –"

"Stand ASIDE, you useless slave! CRUCIO!" She shrieked, and laughed in delight as the curse hit its target.

Quirrell screamed in agony, a white-hot pain slashing away at him as he fell to the floor, convulsing as tears streamed down his face, and still it wouldn't relent…it wouldn't stop…It was like he was back at the graveyard…

The fog of pain lifted and he wheezed, his vision blurry as he curled up into a ball. "P-Please…Don't…"

Suddenly, he was aware of strong arms wrapping around him and lifting him up, and Voldemort was kissing his head. "Don't move," he whispered, "It's ok, it's all ok. I've got you." Voldemort had begun to walk, when he addressed Bellatrix, his back still turned away from her. "You stay here. I'll be down to deal with you in a bit."

Quirrell didn't get a chance to hear her reply, because Voldemort Disapparated them both upstairs to their bedroom. He moaned through gritted teeth, shaking uncontrollably in his partner's arms as he was carefully placed onto their bed.

He couldn't hold it back any longer, and a dry sob escaped his mouth. Voldemort instantly enveloped him in his arms once more, stroking the back of his head. "Ssh, ssh. Come on, it's alright. That's it…" He gently lay Quirrell back down again, wrapping the blankets around him and holding onto his hand.

Eventually Quirrell's blurry vision lifted and he managed to squint through half-closed eyes without feeling sick at the pain. "V…Vol…"

"I'm here, Squirrel. Don't worry." Voldemort whispered, stroking his brown hair soothingly, "Everything's gonna be alright…"

"G-Get…her…out." Quirrell hissed in pain, "W-Wizard God, w-w-what is she d-doing…"

Voldemort brushed Quirrell's hair from his eyes comfortingly. "Don't worry, you. I'll get rid of her."

"P-promise?" He stammered back weakly, gripping desperately onto Voldemort's hand with what little strength he had. "I can't s-stand having h-her in my house, Voldy. I c-c-can't –"

"Hey, hey!" Voldemort soothed, kissing his partner's head, a lump forming in his throat, "I promise you, she'll be gone by the time you count to ten."

Quirrell managed to smile, his brown eyes sparkling, reassured by his soul mate's words. "Th-thank you…"

"Don't be an idiot, Squirrel. Now close your eyes, try to rest, and I'll be up to join you in just a few moments. Ten seconds, remember."

Quirrell obediently closed his eyes and sank back into his pillow as Voldemort gently untangled their fingers. He kissed Quirrell's lips chastely, glancing at him fondly before he left the room with renewed determination, ready to do some damage.

He sure as hell would show Bellatrix who was still a badass Dark King.