Help Is Only So Far Away

Part 10

A/N So I know I said I would only update once a week and it has literally only been a few days but I like this part so I'm publishing it early. So enjoy!!!

Voldemort lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling. It was half 2 in the morning and he couldn't sleep. He was used to it, but that didn't make it any less frustrating. Normally, he would have someone get him a Sleeping Draught, but that's not possible anymore. Not in a whole town filled with muggles. Just endless muggles. Ergh, it made Voldemort feel sick sometimes, especially when he was surrounded. The only wizards in this town were Voldemort, Quirrell's parents and Quirrell.

Quirrell.

Voldemort had been so shocked to see him.  A few weeks ago, he'd been screamed at to leave and now they were living together. It was all such a mess. Everything had been torn and spun and twisted until whatever it was that they shared was now a big heaping mess. If Voldemort could go back and change what happened, would he? Yes. Of course he would, except he couldn't get a time turner from anywhere; they had nearly all been destroyed. He knew that Tyler had gone to comfort Quirrell and Voldemort was grateful. Quirrell needed the help and support more than him and also if Tyler had walked into his room after the conversation in the living room, Voldemort would have crucioed and possibly killed him without a second thought.

Quirrell was here! Sleeping on the couch or maybe Tyler's room, seeing as there was no guest room. He was so close that Voldemort could go out and talk to his old friend but also, he couldn't. He was so close and yet so far away. Voldemort huffed at his own choice of words. They were so cliche.

He rolled over onto his side. He lay there and thought. No longer than 5 minutes later, a bone-chilling scream pierced the air. Voldemort flew out of bed, grabbing his wand and running to the source of the sound. Quirrell was on the sofa, sweat dripping from his forehead, tossing and turning in his sleep. He screamed again and Tyler appeared behind Voldemort. He went to go to him, but Voldemort was faster. He rushed to Quirrell's side and grabbed his shoulder. He shook it, repeating over and over "Wake up, Quirrell. It's okay. Wake up."

It didn't seem to be working so he shook harder and grabbed his other shoulder as well. Tyler was worried in the corner, but Voldemort paid him no attention. His mind was solely focused on Quirrell. Finally, Quirrell shot up, tears streaming down his face. He grabbed hold of Voldemort tightly and buried his face in his chest. Voldemort slowly put his arms around him, and held his shaking body.

"It's okay, Quirrell. I promise." He whispered. Quirrell just clung tighter, sobbing louder, yelling incoherently. They sat there together, on the sofa, holding each other. Tyler went and got a glass of water for Quirrell but he had completely ignored him. He had a vice-like grip on him and it was uncomfortable but Voldemort didn't care. His thin t-shirt was growing wet with the other man's tears. Slowly, he calmed down and after half an hour of sitting there, Quirrell pulled away from Voldemort and a shaking hand reached out for the water. He took small sips and both Tyler and Voldemort, who had backed off and was now sitting at the opposite end of the sofa, were both watching him warily. After he finished his water, Quirrell gave the glass back to Tyler.

"S-sorry." He looked at Tyler only but Voldemort knew that it was so he could hear too. "I-I had a n-nightmare, but I-I'm fine n-now. Y-you can g-go back to b-bed now. S-sorry I w-woke y-you."

Tyler asked him if he would be okay, to which he got a yes, before heading off to bed. Voldemort watched Quirrell for a few minutes before silently getting up and walking back to his room.

What the hell was that? That was one bad nightmare by the looks of it and Quirrell had grabbed him. Despite Tyler being in the room, Quirrell had held onto him, taking comfort from him instead. Voldemort couldn't say he wasn't happy about it but it seemed strange, considering all the bad blood between them. Did this mean he was on the path to forgiveness or had the delirium of the dream forced Quirrell to just grab onto whoever was closest? It was so confusing.