It had been a nice dream, Voldemort knew that. He stirred slightly, wrinkling his nose, unsure why he was even being woken up. What time was it? Morning already? Wouldn't that just be typical. He wanted to stay in this dream, because it was just so perfect, but he could hear the soft rustle of pages being turned and he groggily opened his eyes, his arm draped on Quirrell's chest, who was reading something. So, not quite morning, but definitely late.

"You've been murmuring for the past hour." Quirrell told him softly, still focused on his book. "Are you okay?"

"Uh..." Voldemort propped himself up, rubbing his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, I'm great, but...What time 'ss it?"

"Not crazy late. Nearly midnight." Quirrell looked up at him, taking off his reading glasses. "Nice dream?"

Voldemort simply nodded, trying to grasp onto all the details. "It...I think it was my Mom. Like, I dunno, obviously I never met her or saw her, but...She had the same face, just like the Riddles said. And, uh, you were there, and so was Wang. It was...Yeah, it was nice."

"Oh." Quirrell's eyes widened a tiny bit. "Dude, are you alright after that? How did that make you feel?"

"Uh." Voldemort shrugged, knowing what Quirrell was doing. The self-analysis thing his therapist had taught him, to try to get Voldemort to admit that he was beginning to feel a little sad and how to go from there. "I don't know, how should it make me feel?"

"A mixture of things, I'm guessing. Happy, sad, maybe even a little jealous. Right?" Quirrell put his book down so he could look right at him. "Wanna talk?"

"I - it was just a nice dream, that's all." Voldemort scratched his jaw. "Maybe a little sad, seeing as Wang will never meet her. But she has your parents now, and I mean, so do I, I guess..."

Quirrell had finally reunited with his parents only a few months ago, and at first it hadn't been pretty. It had taken the two of them ages to finally convince them that Quirrell wasn't being possessed and that Voldemort wasn't an evil overlord anymore, but God, it had been so worth it. They were great, and adored Wang, and we're just so blindly happy to have Quirrell back in their lives. No wonder.

"Yeah, but I can see why you'd feel sad. I have my parents back, but you never had your Mom, and it's unfair."

"I have a mother-in-law now, and she's cool. It's really not an issue." Voldemort replied. "It was a nice dream. That's all."

Quirrell seemed to realise he was touching a nerve, because he simply nodded and kissed Voldemort's forehead. "Well, hey. Maybe one day we could find your Mom's grave, if we took some time."

"I dunno if she was even buried, though." Voldemort admitted, feeling a small tug in his chest. He leaned his head on Quirrell's shoulder, relaxing as his husband stroked his hair. "She could be anywhere too. Different side of the country."

"Like I said, we'd take time." Quirrell told him softly, "We could do some research on it. Oh! Maybe I could ask my parents if they know any wizards who may have some idea."

"Well, I mean..." Voldemort faltered, "That'd be...Yeah. Please."

Quirrell smiled at him. "Sure thing. I'll get on it soon."

"God, you're amazing," Voldemort murmured, lifting his head to kiss him, before he caught sight of the book Quirrell was reading. "Not that amazing though, clearly." He added with an angry little frown. "Potter book? Really?"

"It's for Wang's birthday." Quirrell rolled his eyes. "I'm just proof reading it in case it's full of freaky things that I can't skip over without ruining the plot for her."

"And?" Voldemort asked as he checked out the cover, his eyes immediately widening. "Dude, what - 'Prisoner of Azkaban'? Is - is that -"

"Nah. Remember, I only ever made one book." Quirrell replied, and Voldemort was only just noticing that Quirrell's hands were shaking. "It's Sirius Black."

"Oh." Was all Voldemort said for a moment, and then carefully continued, "This isn't because of my hatred for Potter, but...Quirrell, I don't think you should be reading that thing for obvious reasons."

"Me neither. It's full of dementors." Quirrell managed a small laugh. "Really - really graphic scenes. I can't give this one to Wang. Azkaban was mentioned a little in the last one, but I could skip it without it ruining anything. But...but this is just..."

"Stop. Really, you don't need to do that to yourself."

"No, but I promised Wang the next book. She really wants it."

"That doesn't matter. You don't want her learning about them until later, right? And when she starts learning how to read by herself she's gonna look at these books and put two and two together and end up with five. It'll give her a totally screwed up outlook on what happened. That's what I've been saying all along!"

"Alright, don't rub it in." Quirrell muttered, "And don't worry, before you ask, you're not even in this one."

"What a load of bullshit." Voldemort huffed. "I'm the antagonist in these damn things and I'm not even in this one?"

"What am I gonna do? Wang wants me to read her this so badly. I shouldn't have promised her it."

"Uh...Well, maybe you could get the next one and see if that's any better. She'd never know if it was in the wrong order or not." Voldemort suggested against his better judgment. "Or read a completely new series, that'd be even better. Maybe something that's actually appropriate for kids."

"Oh, just shut up." Quirrell whacked him with the book, and the two of them began giggling stupidly. "You're such a condescending ass!"

"Ah, but I'm your condescending ass." Voldemort teased, leaning in to give him a small kiss.

"Yeah, and you're gonna take this damn thing off me before I start to dwell on it." Quirrell replied, handing the book over. "And don't you dare say 'I told you so', 'cause I know that already."

"Never. But seriously, don't worry about this shit." Voldemort flicked through the book, his frown returning. "Lockhart sucks. This isn't how anything happened at all!"

"I know, that's why I enjoyed 'em. I thought they were funny 'cause they were just so unbelievably wrong, but…" He shook his head. "Of course, his description about Azkaban and the Dementors is pretty much perfect. The asshole."

"Alright, well…" Voldemort threw the book against the far wall. "There! Fuck him. And don't you stress, okay? Everything's fine. Better than fine. You're totally safe."

"I know."

"Good. Now go to sleep. We have a birthday coming up in two days." Voldemort kissed his forehead, and made him settle back down. "There we go. G'night. And wake me if you start feeling bad, alright?"

Quirrell nodded, wrapping his arms around him. "Yeah. Thanks. You're the best."

"I try." Voldemort replied, making sure Quirrell was okay before he slipped back into sleep again.

XxX

"Papa? Patch is best person to cuddle." Wang Mu stated randomly, snuggled in Voldemort's lap with her arms wrapped around her toy dog. "Who's best for you?"

"Your Daddy. And you, when you're clean." Voldemort teased, stroking her hair.

"I like Daddy's cuddles too. Warm. And nice."

"They are, aren't they?"

"So are yours, Papa."

"Thank you, kiddo." Voldemort replied, bopping her nose, to which she did the same to his.

"Nuuuzzz." She drawled as she bopped it again. "So funny."

"Don't laugh at my nose, you little..." He began tickling her sides and she kicked and squealed.

"Papa stahaap! Stop. Right now." She hit at his hands. "That's 'nuff."

"Okay, sorry, sorry," Voldemort laughed, soothingly rubbing her sides. "My bad."

Wang Mu huffed at him, and then began tickling him as payback. "Gotcha - Papa -""

"Heeey, no fair." Voldemort giggled weakly as he moved her little hands from his sides. "I stopped!"

"Daddy doesn't tickle me. His cuddles are best."

"Oh, you wanna play that game now, huh?" Voldemort grinned widely. "Keep it up and you won't get any birthday presents."

Wang Mu gasped, looking up at him. "Nooo. You're joking."

"Am I?"

"Papa, you're joking." She clutched Patch to her chest. "No birfday?" She looked so distraught that it was impossible for Voldemort to keep it up, and he gently kissed the top of her head.

"Yes, I'm joking, sillyface. As if we wouldn't get you presents."

She sighed loudly in relief. "Harry's book?"

"Maaaybe." He replied, pleased with how neutral he managed to sound at that. Progress. "I'm not gonna say a word."

"Cake?"

"Of course. Gotta bake a cake for my new four year old."

She beamed, "I'm big now."

"Yeah, practically a pensioner."

"Huh?"

"Never mind." Voldemort replied with a smile, just as the front door opened. "And Daddy's home. Go get your better cuddle."

Wang Mu wriggled out of Voldemort's lap, hastily toddling over to the front door. "Daddy!"

"My baby, hello!" Quirrell laughed as she hugged his legs. "Hold on, lemme put this briefcase down..."

"I'm not a baby! Four tomorrow."

"You'll always be my baby. I've told you that already." Quirrell replied, picking her up and holding her. "Are you excited?"

"Papa said no presents."

"That was a joke!" Voldemort called as Quirrell entered the living room with Wang. "I told you I was just kidding."

Quirrell grinned at him, kissing Wang's cheek. "He's silly, huh?"

"Uh-huh." Wang Mu replied as Quirrell put her back down. "Daddy? You're the best cuddler."

"I am? Well, thank you." Quirrell laughed. "I think your Papa is, personally." He took off his coat, leaning in to give Voldemort a kiss. "Hey."

"Hey, you." Voldemort smiled at him. "Good day?"

"Mediocre as ever." Quirrell sighed a little. "But hey, I'm on vacation! Now all I gotta worry about is a ton of essays to mark, but so what. You?"

"Better now you're here."

"Oh, shut up." Quirrell laughed, but he did give him another kiss for that. "Anyway, about tomorrow, are the playgroup kids coming over?"

"Yeah."

"And how many is that?"

"I dunno, like, twelve? A lot of 'em."

"Lots of presents." Wang Mu clarified.

"Yeah, that's what it's all about, am I right?" Voldemort patted her back. "I like your priorities. Who needs friends?"

"He's joking." Quirrell added. "Friends are great. I mean, so are presents, but you're excited to see all your friends from playgroup tomorrow too, right?"

"Uh-huh."

"That's a relief." Quirrell muttered. "Last thing we need are all these kids in our house who don't even like each other. Oh dude, I have a compromise about you-know-what."

"The book?"

"Yeah, I got the next one up. It's huge, though. So I can easily skip parts of it without her realising."

"Any dementors?"

"Not that I can see. This one looks fun. Like a tournament or whatever."

Voldemort paused. "Uh...Tournament?" He echoed, raising both eyebrows. "Like a House Cup Tournament? With me?"

"Ff..." Quirrell began, stopping himself while Wang was in earshot. "It's like - no, it's called the Goblet of Fire or - something...I'll figure it out, ok?"

"You gonna be able to read it in one night?"

"No. No way. But I'll flick through it, it'll be cool. Anything's better than the third one."

"I'll take your word for it." Voldemort replied. "Just saying, if it does contain me in it, I'm burning it. Like, I don't even care what you do to me. I'm destroying the damn thing."

Quirrell raised his eyebrows and lowered his voice. "No sex for six months if you do."

Voldemort paused. "Shit, whatever, it's totally fictional, she can read it."

"There we go." Quirrell turned back to Wang, who had toddled off towards the kitchen. "Hey, where you going?"

"Cake."

"There's no cake yet, sweetie. You get cake tomorrow." Quirrell laughed as he followed her.

She stopped, and sighed loudly. "Oh."

"But that's okay. You can have loads of cake when it's your birthday." Quirrell replied, as he got himself a soda from the fridge.

"Oh! Daddy, for me."

"Nu-uh. Full of sugar."

"But..." She began as she made her way over, tapping at his leg. "You drink it?"

"'Cause I'm a grown up." He told her with a grin. "Sorry."

"Papa lets me."

"Papa's silly." Quirrell said, as he sipped at his drink. "Anyway, do you remember who's coming tomorrow?"

"Amy. And - and others."

"Yeah, who are the others, sweetie?"

Wang sighed again and tried to count on her fingers. "Lots." She eventually clarified, looking up at him.

"Fair enough. I guess we'll have to wait and see, huh?" Quirrell ruffled her hair, and she batted his hands away.

"Noo, Daddy, stop. You'll mess it."

"Your Papa always says the same thing when I do it to him." Quirrell laughed. "Alright, you'd better get an early bed, 'cause I think something's happening tomorrow. What is it again?"

"Birfday!"

"It is? No way. It's just a lot of friends coming round."

"No, it's my birfday too!"

"Nah, can't be." Quirrell teased. "Because that means you're turning four, and that can't be right."

Wang Mu huffed loudly. "S'true!"

"Oh, baby, don't pout at me, I'm just joking." Quirrell laughed again, putting his soda on the counter to pick her up. "I can't forget my girl's birthday. But I'm serious about an early night, 'cause I know you'll wake up at some crazy hour tomorrow morning."

"'Kay." She nodded. "But read first?"

"Sure. Maybe something different this time?"

"No! Harry."

"Alright, alright, gotta stick to what we know, yeah?" Quirrell kissed her forehead. "You're getting so big." He then murmured.

"I know." She beamed proudly. "Really big."

"Don't grow up too fast, okay?" He replied with a smile as he set her back down. "Pinky promise."

"Uh-huh." She linked her pinky with his, before toddling off. "C'mon, Daddy. Bed."

XxX

The whole house was packed with kids, including some of their parents, and it was predictably loud and overall stressful. Voldemort didn't find it too bad, being used to it with playgroup and park visits, but Quirrell was another story.

"Get the cake." He hissed at Voldemort. "They're playing this game and half of them have already started to cry because they're not all getting gifts! We need the diversion."

"But I thought you said that they'd have the birthday cake later, before they left -"

"The cake, Voldemort!" Quirrell snapped, ducking back into the living room. "Wang Mu, don't hit Tyler!"

"My presents!"

"You can't win every game, honey, now give Tyler his prize back."

Tyler rubbed his forehead, scowling as Wang Mu grudgingly gave him back the prize, and wrinkled his nose. "This present sucks."

"Then give it to someone else, kid!" Quirrell snapped, just as the phone began to ring.

"I'm on it." Voldemort told him as he hurried over to answer. "Hello?"

"Uh, is Mr. Q there?" A teenage girl replied, sounding a little choked up. "I'm Jess from school, and he's my supervisor for the extended essay I have to do, and I'm kind of really freaking out -"

"Quirrell," Voldemort called, covering the mouthpiece. "There's a hysterical teen on the phone for you."

"Wha?" Quirrell asked, trying to separate an angry Wang Mu from Tyler. "Who?"

"I dunno, says her name is Jess."

"Shi...oot." Quirrell amended, "Alright, you keep 'em occupied." He hurried over to the phone. "Jess? Is everything okay?"

"I don't know what I'm doing!"

"What d'you mean? We had meetings together before school finished for summer, and I gave you all those notes. You're more than prepared."

"No, I'm not! I'm worried my question is really stupid!"

"It's not, I promise." He attempted to calm her down. "You're all set, now you just need to write the thing."

"But I can't!" She replied. "I'm terrible at writing."

"That's not true, c'mon. What's brought all this on?" Quirrell asked, covering his free ear to block out all the kids in the background.

She took a few moments, and sniffled. "It's just so much. Everything. It's too much work."

"I know, believe me, I gotta mark all twenty of 'em." His voice softened. "It is a ton of work, and it sucks, I know. But you've got the whole summer. Want my advice?"

"O-ok..."

"Rest up. Spend the first few weeks of vacation relaxing and socialising and just give yourself the break you deserve. Then you can begin to work on it. And you have my number, clearly, for when you officially start it if you need any more help. But I think you're all set." He glanced back at the living room. "Hey, so, it's my daughter's birthday and..."

"Oh. Sorry, um...Thank you." She cleared her throat. "I'll do that. What you said."

"Good. Okay, hope I helped. Bye." He hung up, feeling like a pretty shitty teacher but not knowing what he was exactly meant to do. He'd already given her all the notes available and had had over five sessions with her to make sure she knew what she was doing. "Hysterical teenager calmed down, hopefully. Or maybe more calmed up, I don't know." Quirrell told Voldemort, before snorting.

Voldemort just sighed. "D'you always have to laugh at your own crappy jokes?"

"What? They're not crappy!"

"And they're always the same. Like, it's either that 'joke', or it's -"

"Just shut up and get the cake." Quirrell huffed, and then Voldemort was grinning and pulling him in for a kiss.

"I'm really sorry, but your jokes do suck."

"What, like yours are any better?" Quirrell retorted.

"Don't give me that, you laugh every time. Look, it's nothing personal, it's just...Your jokes are the typical crappy father-type ones."

"But I am a father."

"Yeah, but even a few years back. Like the one with the two guys in the airplane?"

Quirrell took a moment to remember, before snorting again. "That one's funny."

"No, Squirrel, it's...it's really not, but whatever." Voldemort sighed. "Just keep 'em occupied until I bring the cake out."

"Suit yourself, you miserable…" Quirrell trailed off and grudgingly headed back to the living room, where the kids had thankfully calmed down and hadn't broken anything, yet were still making a huge racket.

Benji, the family cat, ran up to Quirrell, meowing pathetically at all the noise, and he picked him up. "I know, right?" He cooed. "Don't worry, they'll quiet down when they have their cake."

Wang Mu must've heard him, because she made her way over, holding her arms out expectantly. "Benji, please."

"Honey, he's a little frightened and grumpy, it's probably best if I keep him just now."

"Benjiii!" She yelled at the cat, who dug his claws into Quirrell's arms in fright, making him wince. "We're gonna play! Let's go."

"Wang, what did I just say? You're frightening him. How would you like it if he started biting and meowing at you to play?"

Wang Mu wrinkled her nose. "It's my birfday."

"I know, honey, but just because it's your birthday doesn't mean everything has to go your way." He pointed out, just as the phone rang again. "Oh, shoot, listen, go back to the living room. Your Papa has your cake. I need to answer the phone…"

Wang Mu huffed loudly before turning away and toddling off, leaving Quirrell to set down a grateful Benji and run back to the phone. "Hello?" He answered, hoping he didn't sound too grouchy. If it was Jess again…

"Quirinus! Where's my granddaughter?"

"What? Oh, hi." He replied after a few startled moments. It was still so strange to hear his mother's voice after so long. "Um, she's – she's getting her birthday cake."

"Did she get our gift? Has it arrived yet?"

"It did. She hasn't opened presents yet, though." He had to block his free ear as 'Happy Birthday' was heard being loudly sung from the living room. "Thank you, by the way."

"Why wouldn't we send our granddaughter her birthday present? We need to make up for so much lost time. With you especially. Speaking of which, I have news about the favour you asked me."

"About Voldemort's Mom?" Quirrell asked, his eyes widening as he lowered his voice.

"She was buried in his home town, in the small graveyard." His mother told him. "So if he wants to see the grave, he's going to have to go back to the place he hates most of all."

Quirrell bit his lip. "Wow. But you found her, that's something! He's been kind of sad lately. This has been bothering him way more than he'll admit. I'll let him know, then he can decide what to do."

"That's a good start." She replied, her voice warm. "Listen, if it's busy over there, I'll call back later to wish Wang Mu a happy birthday. Have a good time, alright?"

"We will. Thank you so much, really. For everything." He hung up before he got too overly emotional, and smiled to himself for a few moments. God. He'd missed his mother so much.

He stayed in the hallways for another few moments, deciding how to tell Voldemort the news, before heading back to the loud living room, just in time to see Wang blowing out her birthday candles, which only made his smile widen.

"Daddyyy! Look at my cake." She pointed proudly. "Look at Papa's cake."

"It's amazing." Quirrell replied truthfully, smiling at Voldemort, who just snorted in response. "Your Papa's very talented."

"Yeeeah, sure." Voldemort laughed.

"It's true!" One of the kids piped up eagerly. "I want cake right now."

"But I get first slice!" Wang added hurriedly. "It's my birfday!"

"Then I want second." Another kid raised his hand. "Please?"

"Everyone's gonna get cake, no worries." Voldemort told them as he began cutting some slices. "Then it's time for presents, then I gotta lie down."

"I'm with you on that one." Quirrell muttered once all the kids were occupied with eating. "Hey, I got some news for you."

"Hm?"

"My Mom was just on the phone. She – she, uh, there's – we got…"

"Spit it out, love, it can't be that terrible." Voldemort laughed, only to stop instantly. "Wait, is it something terrible? The Ministry or -?"

"What? No! Nono, nothing like that, it's – she knows where your Mom's buried." Quirrell blurted. "It's where the Riddles lived, in the local graveyard."

There was a small silence, and Voldemort clenched his jaw the tiniest bit. "Oh. Okay." Was all he said after a few moments. "Can we discuss this later?"

"Sure. Yeah. Sorry, I just figured you should know."

"Maybe not during a birthday party, okay?"

Quirrell flinched a tiny bit, but nodded. "Sorry. I just…You've been upset about this for a while, so I…"

"No, I get it, and it's nice to finally know, but I can't go back to that village, Quirrell. I swore I never would again. Not after…" He faltered. "I can't."

"Let's not be too hasty here, okay? We have plenty of time to think about it all." Quirrell feebly gestured. "Once everyone's home and Wang's in bed, then you can –"

"Quirrell, I can't go back to that village. Do you understand? You know what I did last time I was there. I've put all that behind me."

"But this is your way to finally be at peace with your Mom, and I just think it's a –" Quirrell immediately cut himself off, a little nervous at the expression on Voldemort's face. "I'll shut up. I'll stop talking."

"Oh, Squirrel, don't look at me like I'm gonna punch your face in." Voldemort sighed, wrapping his arms around Quirrell's waist. "Thank you for telling me. I'm sorry I'm being snappy about it. It's just a little…"

"Overwhelming? I get it." Quirrell replied. "But please don't make any rash decisions, okay?"

Voldemort kissed his forehead. "Okay. Fair enough." He sighed again, before letting go of Quirrell. "So typical…"

Quirrell just stayed silent, but gave him a small kiss on the cheek. "Like I said. All the time in the world."

Voldemort nodded, moving away to begin clearing away the plates, and Quirrell watched him hesitantly. That really hadn't gone down too well.

Eventually, all the presents had been opened, and all the kids had left. Now the two were left with a hyperactive Wang Mu and a complete mess of a living room.

"Just as well we're wizards." Voldemort muttered as he flicked his wand, making all the scraps of birthday paper fly into the dustbin.

"Thank you gwand'ma." Wang Mu babbled into the phone to Quirrell's mother as Voldemort continued to clean up. "I got lotsa gifts. An' Harry book!" She listened intently before nodding vigorously. "Uh-huh. Kisses!" She held the phone over to Quirrell. "Daddy, gwand'ma wants to say bye."

"Thank you sweetie." Quirrell replied, taking the phone and saying his own goodbyes, looking over at Voldemort carefully as he did so, but his husband seemed fairly calm. He disconnected the call, and glanced back at Wang Mu. "Nice day?"

"Amaaazing!" She beamed back, clapping her hands as she toddled off to her pile of presents. "Papa? Where's your Mom like Daddy's? Or your Dad?"

Voldemort dropped his wand, and awkwardly bent down to fumble around for it. "Wha?" He asked in surprise. "That's – that's not relevant."

"Ssh, Wang, not now." Quirrell cut in hurriedly. "It's time for your bath."

"Why? I wanna say hi to other gwand'ma." She whined as Quirrell lifted her up. "Then read Harry!"

"Darling, please, ssh." Quirrell told her firmly. "We'll talk about this later."

"Way later." Voldemort muttered, pocketing his wand. "Way, way later."

"But I –"

"My Mom's not here, Wang." Voldemort blurted, his face reddening slightly. "I'm sorry, but you don't have another grandmother, because she's dead."

"Voldemort!" Quirrell hissed.

"No. No, it's okay. 'Cause we can visit her. The grave, that is. Maybe – I dunno, buy some flowers. Right?"

Quirrell hesitated, before he nodded carefully, a little surprised at this turnaround. "Of course. Of course we can."

Wang Mu just looked at the two of them, thoroughly confused. "Not here?" She then asked quietly.

"No. Not here."

"I'm sorry, Papa. Doessit make you sad?"

Voldemort hesitated, rubbing his jaw, before nodding. "Yeah. But I can't do anything about it. Except see the grave, which – which I will."

"Me too?"

"Yeah, if you want." Voldemort told her, before his face screwed up a little and he instantly turned, leaving the room.

"Voldemort, wait, come on…" Quirrell called after him, before sighing and holding Wang Mu close to his chest. "Okay, sweetie, bath time."

"I upset Papa?" She asked, sounding distraught. "My fault?"

"No! No. He's...His Mom died when he was just a baby, and he's only just found out where she's buried. So it's a bit of a shock, and he feels a bit sad about it."

"That's sad." She mumbled. "I wanna…have cuddles with Papa."

"And you will, after your bath." Quirrell assured her as he walked up the stairs. "Don't you worry, though. It isn't your fault. I promise."

"But I asked an' made him sad."

"You weren't to know." He replied soothingly. "Please don't worry. It's your birthday, remember? Everything's nice on your birthday."

She smiled at him eagerly. "Read later?"

"Of course. My best girl." He kissed her forehead before setting her down. "Let's get you your bath."

XxX

Voldemort poured himself another shot of Firewhiskey and downed it, screwing his face up at the burn, before turning to see Quirrell standing in the kitchen doorway.

"Wang wants to see you." He told him, before wrinkling his nose. "The hell are you doing?"

"Nothin'." He mumbled, hastily storing away the bottle. "I just – I can't talk about my Mom. You understand."

Quirrell approached him, and placed a hand soothingly on the small of his back. "I wanna try something with you. It's a nice technique my therapist taught me a few years back. It makes you get more in touch with your emotions and helps you understand 'em better. D'you want to give it a go?"

Voldemort frowned a little. "Sounds difficult."

"It can feel a little dumb at first. Look. You start with just tapping parts of your body, just here." Quirrell demonstrated, lightly tapping at the side of his hand. "And you repeat these words: I may feel really shitty about how my mother died, but I know it wasn't my fault."

"What? No, don't make me do this." Voldemort whined, already feeling his eyes sting.

"I'm not making you do anything, Voldemort, this is totally up to you. But there's no harm in trying, right?" Quirrell moved his tapping to the sides of his head. "And then: I love myself completely and profoundly as a person. I know right?" He added at the expression on Voldemort's face. "It sounds so lame. I refused to do this exercise for the first couple of months with her, but seriously, after a few tries, I grew to really love it. So. Wanna start tapping?"

"This is ridiculous." Voldemort managed. "This is what you pay your therapist to do?"

"Don't be so negative."

"I'm sorry." Voldemort replied, before his voice cracked. "I grew up thinking I killed my Mom, Quirrell, and then I killed my family 'cause they were horrible, and now she's buried in the same goddamn place where they talked about her like she was dirt and –"

"Ssh! Wang's next door with her playhouse, c'mon." Quirrell's eyes had widened a tiny bit and he glanced around in case their daughter had in fact toddled into the kitchen, before looking back at Voldemort and taking both his hands. "Please come and see Wang, okay? She's distraught. She thinks she upset you."

"What? No, never." Voldemort mumbled.

"And we've been over this before. You're not the person you used to be anymore. Your family were terrible, terrible people, but you have a new one now. One who loves you." Quirrell kissed his forehead, making him smile. "Who loves you very, very much."

Voldemort sniffled a little bit, before nodding. "Loveya too…" He murmured, afraid that if he said anything else he'd actually start crying. It seemed to pass, because Quirrell smiled at him brightly.

"Two men were in an airplane -" He then began one of his terrible jokes, and Voldemort raised his hands in surrender.

"Don't do this to me."

" – And one of them said to the other, 'If this thing tips over, will we fall out?'"

"Quirrell."

"And the other replied 'No, don't worry, we'll always be best friends.'"

Voldemort covered his face with a groan, but was unable to stop himself from giggling weakly. "Awful." He confirmed. "Still as terrible as the first time you told me it."

"Made you smile, though." Quirrell sang, before tugging him back into the living room, where Wang was still intensely playing with her new dollhouse.

"Hello, Daddies!" She glanced up, beaming. "Hi, Papa. Are sads gone?"

"Yeah." He replied, ruffling her hair fondly. "Pretty much. Don't worry, okay? It wasn't your fault."

She sighed in relief, before picking up Patch. "Let's all read Harry."

"Meehh…" Voldemort began, but cut himself off at her pleading expression. "Alright. Your Daddy can read us a couple of pages. But then I need sleep, deal?"

"'Kay. Then we visit other gwand'ma. Tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" Voldemort echoed, unsure of what to say. "We, uh…we could, I – I guess?"

Quirrell picked Wang up and sat down on the couch, reaching for the book. "Let's not worry about that just now. We have loads of time. Whenever you're comfortable."

Voldemort shot him a smile as he sat down next to him, and kissed the top of Wang Mu's head before pecking Quirrell's cheek. "Yeah. We do." He told him, considerably calmer. This was good news. He could finally say his goodbyes properly.

Wang Mu smiled up at him, before bopping his nose. "Got your nuuuzzz, Papa." She informed him, before giggling.

He was unable to help but laugh too, and he tapped her forehead. "You did, kiddo. Happy birthday."

A.N. Endings? What are endings?

(Seriously I can never end chapters, but oh well.)

The technique Quirrell talked about is something I've covered with my therapist, and it's called EFT (Emotional Freedom Techniques). It's actually pretty good! It always depends on what you're comfortable with, of course, and my description of it here was pretty basic. But if anyone's interested, feel free to look it up and see if it works for you!

Additionally, that airplane joke is a fucking riot.