Chapter 7: Hey you...
Quirrel was curled up like a ball, his eyes fixed on the lake. His eyes were dry and bloodshot. He was tired, but he would not fall asleep again, he feared the nightmares. He closed his eyes, resting, feeling the acing of his heart. "Just one more thing, one more miracle, that's all I ask. Don't be dead. Just for me, please," he whispered out, to no one in particular.
He heard a sound behind him, like the sound of someone trying to silence a sob. It was somewhat strange, because now that he came to think of it, he hadn't heard any other sound than himself before. He shrugged, and concluded that he was too tired to care. The time he had spent in Azkaban had made him quite jumpy, but right now he was just so tired. He missed him so much, so very much.
"Hey you..." A voice behind him said. Quirrel knew that voice all too well, but how could it be? He turned slowly around and looked at him. "Voldemort?" he asked, his heart suddenly beating very fast. Voldemort was wearing a white cloak, and had a hesitant look on his face. "Is it really you?" Quirrel asked, still uncertain. Voldemort sighed and looked away. "What's left of me.." he said.