Chapter 9: Together at last
Quirrel awoke with a song in his heart. He turned around and saw Voldemort’s smiling peaceful face, as he was sleeping peacefully. Slowly, he opened his eyes, and looked at Quirrel. "Hey you," he said and smiled. Quirrel smiled warmly back at him. He shivered lightly, hadn't noticed before now how cold it was. "We should leave," Voldemort said. Quirrel nodded, and shivered. "But where?" he asked. "I just came out of Azkaban, and you are supposed to be dead…" Voldemort thought for a while. "I suppose we could always go to my granddad's old house. No one has been living there after I killed my grandparents and my dad there." Quirrel nodded, but felt a bit uneasy about the way he spoke so carelessly about killing people.
The fire crackled and Quirrel sat gazing into it with a cup of hot chocolate in his hands. Voldemort looked over at him, not sure if he should say anything, or remain silent. At last, Quirrel looked at him. "Do you still want to kill Harry Potter?" he asked. Voldemort shook his head. "Nah… You see, when I returned, I realized something. Killing people doesn't make them like you. It just makes people dead," he said, and tried to hold back some tears. Quirrels rolled his eyes and smiled.
A knock on the door startled them both. "Quick, hide! If it is wizards they can't see you here with me!" Voldemort said and looked nervously around. Quirrel started shaking with fear. Voldemort put up the hood of his white cloak, and went to the door. Outside, a man stood waiting with a bored look on his face. He had sleek short brown hair, and a brown toothbrush mustache. He was wearing a dark grey suit, and a matching tie.