Help Is Only So Far Away

Part 14

A/N This is quite a short filler chapter but I hope you like it anyway.

Bellatrix screamed. Why could no one understand? No one seemed to understand what she was going through, but they weren't even trying to help. She asked the other Death Eaters but they were useless. ALL OF THEM!!! Someone knocked on her door, but she just screamed again until they left. She put her hands up to her face and rubbed. Everything was going horribly wrong! She sat down infront of her mirror. There was a picture on it of her Dark King, in all his glory, back in the good old days where they brought terror wherever they went. Oh, how she missed it.

"One day, my King. One day we shall be reunited once more. I know you're not dead. You're out there somewhere. I will find you, don't you worry about that, my lord."

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Tyler didn't stay up much longer after the whole talk. He couldn't keep his eyes open and he seemed a bit out of it, so on Quirrell's orders, he went straight to bed and before either knew it, both wizards could hear their roommate's snoring through the paper-thin walls.

"Okay, will you explain what happened earlier now?" Voldemort asked, genuinely concerned for his......were they friends now?

"I......I'm not sure." Voldemort wasn't convinced. He gave Quirrell a look to show that and he gulped. "I......I....um, It d-doesn't matter. It w-won't happen again."

"Sure?" Quirrell nodded. "Okay then. You want a drink?"

"O-Okay."

They walked into the kitchen and Voldemort got out two glasses. He filled his with milk and, at Quirrell's request, got him water. They both leant against opposite counters drinking and Voldemort almost laughed, it was exactly the position they were in last night. It felt like years had passed since then. They awkwardly smiled at each other, unsure what to do.

"I think I'm gonna go to bed." Voldemort stated, sounding tired to even his own ears.

"Ok, c-can you show me w-where to get th-the sheets from though f-first? Tyler p-put them aw-w-way this morning, but I-I'm not sure where."

"I don't really know either. Okay, I'll search Tyler's room and the basement, you search the corridor and in the living room for any cupboards holding it."

"N-no, I'll search T-Tyler's room. You'll wake h-him up." Quirrell said, accusingly. Voldemort shot him a glare, which quickly turned into a faking innocence face. "You kn-know I'm-"

"SSHHH!! Tyler's sleeping!" Voldemort interrupted and the younger wizard whacked his arm playfully. "Okay fine. I'll take the basement and corridor and you take Tyler's room. Happy now?"

Quirrell beamed a radiant smile at him. Voldemort's heart jumped at the sight and he couldn't help grinning back. The two walked off to the corridor connecting most of the rooms together. Quirrell silently crept through Tyler's bedroom door and flashed his friend one last smile before being swallowed by the darkness. Vldemort turned to face the door to the basement. It was painted white like all the other dooors in the apartment. It was the same shape and the same panel carvings into it, yet somehow it was completely different. The wood seemed more marked, with odd scratches and a lot older than the other doors. There was a big bolt on it, that looked old and coated in a layer of rust. Voldy pulled hard on it. It took a while but finally it slid, squeaking all the way. At this point, he was 99% sure that the sheets weren't down here but curiosity got the better of him. The door creaked open and all Voldemort could see was darkness.

"Lumos." he whispered, drawing his wand. The light that eminated from the wand's tip chased the shadows away and the tall pale wizard didn't think twice about stepping inside. Cobwebs clung to the room's corners and mould stained the peeling walls. Damp clogged the air, making breathing a bit harder. The stairs leading down, were wooden and looked quite unstable. It seemed like no one had been down here in years. The wall to the right of the stairs had some weird brown stains on and Voldemort was careful not to touch it. He slowly walked down the creaking, rickety stairs, more and more of the room coming into view.

Boxes were pushed against the wall, stacked into a wonky pile, some overspilling. A skipping rope was on the floor, looking discarded. A bright blue ball, the size of Voldemort's hand, had its own place amongst the dust. A creepy doll sat on top of one of the boxes, it's glass eye staring at Voldemort, seeming to follow his every move. It had obviously once been very pretty but it wasn't anymore. It's dark red, fancy, laced dress was coated in a layer of dust, as was its hat. The face had scratches on the cheeks, as did the hands, arms and legs. Some of its precise brown ringlets had fallen out and one eye was missing. It seemed to stare into his soul as if it really saw him there.

There was a noise. A small quick noise. Then silence. Voldemort froze. His heart was pounding. He listened. Suddenly there it was again. Getting louder. Something whooshed past his feet. He jumped back. He looked into the corner to see.......a big fat rat, looking up at him. Thank God, it was only a rat. He looked back up at the doll. It sat there with a smile on its face, arms outstretched. A shiver ran down his spine. Somthing about it creeped him out. He sighed. Well, obviously, the sheets weren't here, he should probably go back Something grabbed his shoulder. He whirled round and pointed his wand out. The light showed it was only Quirrell. That was the second time in the space of 2 minutes, his heart had almost stopped beating.

"Wh-what are y-you doing down h-here?" Quirrell whispered. Voldemort shrugged. To be honest, he wasn't sure anymore. Quirrell looked around, eyebrows raised. "This is k-kinda creepy, don't y-you think?"

Quirrell walked over to the doll, his socked feet leaving imprints in the dust. Voldemort reached out an arm to stop him, but it was too late. He picked it up and shook the dust off. He turned back to Voldemort, the doll in hand.

"Hello, m-my name is.....Emily. I-I like going t-to the park w-with my red p-parasol and lady friend J-Janet." said Quirrell in a high-pitched girly voice, waving the doll around. "Look, at this I-I can do the splits. WHEEE-Oh shit!" The leg was now no longer attached to the rest of the doll and was in Quirrell's other hand. He looked up at Voldemort with wide eyes, who was trying not to laugh.

"You idiot." He whispered softly. "Reparo." The leg darted back to its place and reattached. Quirrell turned and put it back on the box.

"There, there. Good dolly." He said, smoothing out the dress and and hat, as if nothing had happened. He turned back and shivered. "C-Come on. Let's g-go. It's creepy i-in here.." Voldemort agreed and Quirrell hurried up the stairs, closely followed. When they both got out, Voldemort swung the door shut and pushed the heavy bolt back into place.

"Let's never go done there again." He stated to an out of breath Quirrell, who just nodded. "Okay so, no to the basement. I'm guessing no to Tyler's room?"

Quirrell was still out of breath so rather than try and tell Voldemort, he just grabbed his arm and pulled him into the living room. Blankets, sheets and pillows were all gathered on one sofa. Definitly more than enough. Quirrell sat down and breathed deeply until he was no longer out of breath. He started to set up a bed for himself, a sheet on the cusions with a sheet and a blanket on top, topped with two pillows. The rest were thrown in an untidy pile in the middle of the floor.

"You realise you just moved in yesterday? Yet somehow already, it feels like ages." Voldemort said, staring at some random point on the carpet floor.

"I know. I c-can't believe Tyler i-is letting us s-stay after knowing th-the truth." Quirrell stated, also now focused on the carpet. They sat like that for a minute or so, before silmultaneously coming back to their senses and looking up. They both got lost in each others eyes, seas of warm brown and iredescent orbs of blue. Neither said anything, until Quirrell couldn't take it anymore and blurted out the thought that had been on his mind.

"Don't l-leave me." Voldemort must have looked confused because he went on. "I w-will have another n-nightmare. D-don't go."

"Of course I won't. I'll just.....stay here...then if you have a nightmare, I'll wake you up!" Voldemort said, enthusiasticly. Quirrell shot him a grateful look as he set up his own bed on the other sofa. As he did so, he also folded all the other sheets and blankets so that it was a nice neat pile, which made Quirrell chuckle, tiredly. The brown-haired man slowly lowered himself down onto his bed exhausted and was struggling to keep his eyes open. Voldemort noticed, having just finished sorting his own bedding. He gave him a soft warm look. 

"Go to sleep, Quirrell. I'll watch over you."

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