Help Is Only So Far Away

Part 11

Breakfast was awkward. All three flatmates ate in silence and it was only broken by the scraping of knives and forks. When they left the table, Tyler dragged Quirrell off to borrow some clothes. Voldemort didn't know what to do with himself. He turned on the TV, but didn't want to watch anything. He scanned the bookshelves, but couldn't find a good book. He ended up just sitting on the sofa, the sheets and pillow Quirrell had used already put away. He got out his wand and started swinging it back and forth, bored out of his mind, wondering what the other two had planned for the rest of the day.

Quirrell had finally found some clothes, a plain grey t-shirt over a pair of dark jeans. Tyler gave him the thumbs up and chucked Quirrell's old clothes in a tall basket in the corner of his room. Quirrell wasn't sure what it was for, but trusted him to not get rid of his clothes.

"Listen, you remember you told me about what happened between you and Voldemort?" Oh Wizard God. Quirrell panicked slightly at where this could be going. He nodded. "Well, I wanted to ask about a couple of things." Oh shit. "Is that okay?"

"Y-yeah fine" No! No, it was not okay!

"What was it that you were doing that was illegal?" Oh Wizard God! Start with a hard question, why don't you, Tyler?!

"Uumm, we w-were.....er......Can w-we not t-talk about this? It's b-behind both of u-us and never h-happening again."

"Okay...." Tyler said. "My next thing is why do you two carry those sticks around with you? I noticed both of you do it." He pointed to the wand poking out Quirrell's back pocket. He was glad that he remembered to transfer it from his own trousers, but that was not helping him right now.

"They're, um.......It was a......th-thing when we were f-friends.....I-it was....protective e-enough....and a s-symbol o-of....something. It's h-hard to e-explain."

"Okay...." Tyler didn't seem all that convinced by that answer. "Look, I get you don't want to talk about it, but you will have to talk to me at some point, otherwise I can't understand properly. I won't force you to do anything, but it would be a lot better and easier if you did talk about it. You seem like a good guy and I'm going to help you out, okay? You don't seem like the kind to deserve the shit you've been through."

Quirrell was taken aback as Tyler smiled and walked out the room. Quirrell sat at the foot of the bed, thinking. Astrid had said something very similar, but he had been sure that she was just part of his imagination pulling tricks on him again, but if Tyler said that, did that mean maybe she was real? It didn't matter anyway, he did deserve what happened and that was that. He sighed and heaved himself off the bed, following Tyler.

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Voldemort had no idea what Tyler and Quirrell were doing, but they went out for all morning and a lot of the afternoon. He had to make his own lunch and just had a small sandwich, expecting that the others had lunch whilst they were out. By the time they came back, Quirrell's cheeks had a red tinge to them from the cold and Tyler's hair was a lot bouncier. They were laughing and had smiles on their faces. When they saw Voldemort on the couch, they stopped. There was an awkward tension, even worse than at breakfast. Voldemort looked at Quirrell, at the smile that was starting to slip off his face. He could feel the scowl on his face, but didn't remove it. Instead, he stared into Quirrell's eyes. He stared into the deep brown pools of wisdom and didn't look away, well not until Tyler grabbed Quirrell's arm and dragged him off.

Voldemort slumped back into the sofa and grabbed a random book off the nearby table, the scowl not leaving his face. He could hear the chatter coming through the wall and felt himself getting more irritated second by second. Whatever, he could have fun without them! He looked out the window and looked down at the people walking past on the street below. As each passed, he planned how best to destroy them. That guy there was obviously very attatched to the young girl, his daughter probably, so he'd kill her infront of him. That young man obviously loved the woman at his arm, a lover maybe? So make him think she hates him, yes then torture her! Oh this was going wonderfully. Who next? Oooh, that old lady seemed to be having trouble walking without her stick, this one was easy, just kick it over again and again. She'd struggle bending down to reach it if the way she grimaces in pain says anything. And that lady over there, well she was hot so maybe he'd be a bit nicer to her. Rip the fake nails off and drench her in mud or something that leaves a stain. Yes that would work, she obviously tried hard to keep a good image, what with the make up and smart clothes. He carried on like this for a while, when Tyler walks in again, phone in hand, looking annoyed.