Ok there are a ton of references in here. If any of you have read 'A Very Starkid Fanfic' by my friend YourPontmercyFriend on here (which I highly recommend), you'll know who Devin Cooter is. She's just mentioned in passing here, and I'll have to ask for permission before I start including her properly in this, but basically she's a good friend of Quirrell's.

Mentions of AVPSY and Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone movie too.

Happy holidays!

Voldemort had had to deal with a few tough things over the years, all of them undeniably hard, but as he sat in the kitchen, having just returned from another visit to his mother's grave, he was more than embarrassed to find his eyes stinging. Still, at least he wasn't making as big a scene as he had the first time they'd gone.

Sure, it had all gone to plan; Quirrell had made flowers, and they'd gone together, deciding that it'd probably be for the best if Wang Mu stayed with Quirrell's parents, seeing as it was the first time for Voldemort. Which was just as well, because he'd been a wreck.

"I can't even remember the last – time – I did this," He'd managed through his gasps for air. "Not – this hard."

"The last time you cried?" Quirrell guessed, fumbling around in his pocket for a tissue. "There's no shame in it, y'know."

"Ugh, I know that, but it – it's still –" He reached out, pressing his hand flat against the tombstone. "God, it – it's like when I came back for – you on the Azkaban island. That's how bad this hurts."

"We don't have to stay if it's too upsetting." Quirrell replied quietly, holding onto his free hand comfortingly. "We really do have all the time in the world. This is a muggle village, remember, so we're in no real danger around –"

"Don't remind me!" He practically yelled. "I'm well aware it's a muggle village! This is where I – I – killed them!"

Cue a lot more crying, alongside some apologies for snapping, and then admitting he'd had more than enough for one day. Since then, the visits had been marginally better, but still not exactly easy. And after this particular one, Voldemort really wasn't in the mood for anything other than a shot of Firewhiskey and mindless lounging around the house.

"Oui, je sais." Quirrell spoke into his phone, albeit quietly, as if Voldemort would get irritated at him. On the contrary; Quirrell speaking French was actually really soothing, and also pretty sexy, but he wasn't exactly in the mood to dwell on it for much longer. "Oui. C'est irritant. Mais –" He paused for a moment, flicking through his calendar. "Non, je suis désolé, mais c'est impossible."

Whatever was going on was clearly beginning to exasperate Quirrell, but he listened intently anyway, before responding once again fluently. Eventually he must have got his point across, because he disconnected the call, sighing loudly. "It's a staff training day, we all have to go." He then said, by means of an explanation. "I always have to work on my birthday, so why should he get to skip?"

"Hm?" Voldemort asked, trying not to look too disinterested.

"Adrien! It's his birthday on Friday, but it's a staff training day, so we all gotta be there. I swear I just told you all this."

"I'm guessing that's the new French teacher." Voldemort replied, aimlessly swirling the liquid in his glass. "Are you the only one who speaks to him in his own language?"

"The rest of the French teachers do, naturally." Quirrell replied, still looking through his calendar. "But he always looks so lost that I want to make sure he's comfortable. And hey, I worked so hard to learn French, so I'm gonna use it whenever I can."

It was then that Wang Mu peeked over the counter, her face solemn. "Daddies. I need talking with hands."

"What?" Voldemort asked, hastily wiping at his face. "What're you talking about?"

She sighed loudly, before looking over at Quirrell. "Daddy. Hand talking." She wiggled her fingers. "You know."

"Um…" Quirrell replied in confusion, before his expression cleared. "Sign language, baby?"

"Yes!" She clapped her hands eagerly. "D'you know it, Daddies?"

"No." Voldemort told her. "I mean, I definitely don't." He glanced at Quirrell. "How about you?"

"I took some classes forever ago." Quirrell admitted. "I have a book on it somewhere. Why, Wang?"

"'Cause a new girl came to playgroup." Wang Mu said, playing with a strand of her dark hair. "An' – an' she can't hear. So I wanna be friends with hand talking."

"Oh, really?" Quirrell smiled widely. "That's really great, Wang! Sign language is so useful. What's her name?"

"Chloe. Why can't she hear?"

"Some people are born deaf. That's what it's called." Quirrell told her, standing up to make himself some coffee. "Well, you look out for Chloe, okay? I'll teach you some basic sign language."

"'Kay, that's great." Wang Mu beamed as she tugged Voldemort's sleeve. "Papa, why don't you know hand talking?"

"I wasn't very well educated." Voldemort replied shortly. "Nothing like your Dad."

"Excuse you." Quirrell frowned. "I took those classes myself by saving up money. They weren't handed to me all gift-wrapped."

Voldemort didn't reply, and instead rubbed at his face. "Mm. I'm beat. I'm gonna go to bed."

"It's seven thirty." Quirrell replied, glancing down at his watch. "You'll never sleep this early."

"Are you my husband or my parent?" Voldemort retorted as he stood from his chair.

Quirrell rolled his eyes slightly as he stirred some sugar into his coffee. "I'm just saying. Sorry."

Voldemort took a few moments, and then glanced down at Wang Mu, who blinked up at him in confusion. "No, don't apologise. I shouldn't have snapped. Sorry, love."

"I know!" Wang exclaimed. "Daddy teaches me, then I teach you, Papa!"

"Y'know what, kid? That sounds awesome." Voldemort managed a grin, holding out his hand for her to high-five. "What do you think, Quirrell?"

"Sounds awesome to me too." Quirrell replied with a grin of his own. "Next step is learning a foreign language."

"Yeah, I mean, you've heard your Daddy speak French, right? Gorgeous and smart."

Wang Mu frowned slightly. "Don't be tricky, though. Hand talking first."

"'Course, Wang." Quirrell laughed, picking her up so he could kiss her cheek. He stroked her hair back, before he began to talk in French again, only for her to immediately begin to protest.

"Too hard!" She tapped at his nose. "Speak prop'ly."

Quirrell laughed again. "I am. Just in another language. It's cool, huh?"

"Yes." She grudgingly admitted. "But still hard."

"So's sign language. You gotta be patient, you won't learn it right away."

"I'm magic." She smiled proudly. "So – so I'm clever."

Voldemort snorted. "That's the attitude, kid."

"No it's not." Quirrell scolded. "Wang, just because you're a witch doesn't mean you'll be able to do everything without even trying. Your Papa's only joking."

"Yeah, I am." Voldemort admitted, raising his hands in surrender. "I mean, yeah, your Daddy's a total genius, but I'm sure that has nothing to do with him being magic at all."

"Quit it, I'm serious." Quirrell warned. "Wang, you're very clever, but that's because you try and you work hard. If you don't try, what's the point?"

She pondered over this for a moment, before nodding. "'Kay. Can Chloe come play soon?"

"Sure." Quirrell put her back down, "She can come whenever, as long as it's alright with her parents. Voldemort, you can meet them, right?"

"Mm." Voldemort responded simply, debating whether to pour himself another shot or not. "Yeah. No problem."

"Aaand…" Quirrell said, raising his eyebrows as he nodded towards Wang Mu.

"And? Oh. Uh, I really was just kidding about the muggle thing." Voldemort told their daughter. "But you all know that."

Quirrell shot him a grateful smile. "Still, doesn't hurt to all be on the same page, right?"

Voldemort managed to smile back, feeling himself gradually calm down from everything the day had brought. "Yeah. I know." He replied softly, before glancing down at his empty glass. "Thanks." He then added. "For everything. With, uh, the….the grave and making flowers and…"

"Hey, there's no need to thank me." Quirrell cupped his face and gave his forehead a kiss. "Wang, never believe anyone who says your Papa's big and tough. Just look how cute he is."

Voldemort smirked slightly, unable to help his small blush. "I can be cute and tough." He countered.

"Yeah, you do it brilliantly." Quirrell teased, giving him a small kiss before moving away. "Alright, I gotta finish grading those tests. Can you get Wang ready for bed?"

Voldemort simply nodded, standing up as Wang Mu eagerly reached for his hand. "Papa, let's meet Chloe's dad soon."

"Sure." He replied with a warm smile, giving her small hand a squeeze. "First thing on Monday morning. She could maybe come over after school one night this week, if it's cool with her parents."

"She's only got one daddy." Wang Mu explained. "I have two. But she has a mommy."

"All families are different." Voldemort nodded as they walked up the stairs. "But that's alright. Different is good."

"I like two daddies, 'cause…" She paused, frowning, before she brightened. "Well, 'cause you're my daddies."

"You're such a charmer, my girl." Voldemort grinned. "And we love you too. Loads."

XxX

Chloe really was the cutest kid, with brown eyes darker than Quirrell's, and amazing afro hair which she kept playing with as she eagerly signed to Quirrell and Wang Mu. Quirrell got the gist of it, and even if Wang looked slightly lost, she was smiling widely and nodding as she admired her new friend.

"Daddy?" She asked, her tone slightly worried. "What did she just say?"

"She's thanking you for inviting her over." Quirrell replied helpfully.

"Oh! Oh, what's 'you're welcome'?"

"Like this." Quirrell demonstrated, and Wang Mu eagerly copied, causing Chloe's grin to widen.

"And can I ask 'bout playing?"

Quirrell smiled. "Wang wants to know if you want to play a board game." As he spoke, he signed what he was saying so both Wang Mu and Chloe were included.

"Careful, though." Voldemort added. "Tell Chloe that Wang's a real sore loser."

"That's not true!" Wang Mu protested. "Don't say that, Daddy!"

"I'm not, I'm not." Quirrell laughed, his hands up in surrender, just as Chloe nodded enthusiastically. "Awesome, you two go and play."

The two of them soon moved to the living room to begin the board game or whatever it was Wang had planned, which allowed Voldemort and Quirrell to spend some time by themselves in the kitchen area.

"Hey, so," Quirrell began as he poured himself some wine. "The funniest thing happened to me today. Well, two funny things, actually, but –"

"Funny as in actually funny, or just your type of funny?" Voldemort asked, which earned him a flick on the nose.

"Seriously, listen, this is gold. Alright, so after work tonight I figured I'd do some tie shopping, y'know? So I was in town with Devin, and I got distracted in the store, and was trying on all these different shirts –"

"Mm, I can tell by the shopping bags in our room."

"Quit interrupting. So as I was admiring myself in the store's mirror, because I looked really hot, this guy comes up to me. And I'm preparing to be hit on, which would have been totally understandable, but guess what?"

Voldemort raised his eyebrows, beginning to get intrigued. "Enlighten me."

"He said he was a professional photographer and asked me if I did modelling." Quirrell laughed. "Can you believe that? So I told him no, I'm a schoolteacher, but he gave me his card and said he'd give me a free photo shoot!"

"Get outta here." Voldemort replied with a grin of his own, "For real?"

"Yeah, but I said how my husband had a much nicer body."

Voldemort laughed, shaking his head. "Aw, you didn't, did you? He was interested in taking pictures of you and you talked about me?"

"Well, it's true, you do."

"And it's true that you're gorgeous and he wants to show you off. Do it!"

"I can't, c'mon. He was probably just kidding."

"Hey, you just said he gave you his card, dude. He's definitely not just kidding. And offering to do a free session?" Voldemort likely poked his chest. "Imagine. You could be up there modelling Calvin Klein underwear."

"Oh, nice." Quirrell nodded, sipping at his wine. "But nah, knowing my luck it's something super shady. Like porn."

Voldemort snorted. "Yeah, maybe don't show your face if it turns out to be that. But hey, you could do all the sound effects, no problem."

"Shut up." Quirrell pouted slightly, before grinning. "Alright, are you ready for my second funny story?"

"Hit me."

Quirrell put his glass down and moved over to where he'd left his briefcase on the table, rummaging through it. "I found this in a store on sale, look." He retrieved a DVD with a laugh, presenting it to Voldemort. "It's a Harry Potter one! The first one, based off Lockhart's books!"

"No." Voldemort replied immediately with a shake of his head. "Nope. I refuse to watch that garbage."

"Oh honey, please? When Wang's in bed? Look, it has us in it, we're practically famous! I wanna see the actor who's playing me!"

"I'm not watching it." Voldemort insisted. "I remember the book all too well. You can watch it by yourself if you really want to."

"But it's no fun watching movies alone." Quirrell replied with another small pout. "Look, if you don't like it after the first thirty minutes, we can turn it off. I just thought it'd be a laugh, that's all."

Voldemort hesitated for a moment, and then sighed loudly. "Alright, alright, whatever. But – don't show it to Wang Mu. Not yet. I mean, parts of the books are ok if you skip out all the scary stuff, but this movie…"

"I know. So we can watch it together?" Quirrell asked hopefully. "It's pretty cool, right? Actors are playing us."

"Probably horrifically." Voldemort pointed out. "I really don't wanna have to see me being all evil again…"

"No worries, dude. To be honest, you're hardly in it." Quirrell admitted. "I'm the star. Me and the turban."

At that, Voldemort couldn't help but laugh, but he shook his head again. "If I don't like it, I'm not watching it."

"That's fine. But we can give it a shot?"

"Yeah." Voldemort sighed. "If only 'cause you're so adorably excited."

Quirrell grinned, placing the DVD down to wrap his arms around Voldemort's neck, giving him a kiss. "You're the greatest. This is gonna be so fun."

"If you say so." Voldemort replied, but he was smiling. "Just promise me that when you're a super famous model you'll still have the most fun watching shitty movies with me."

"That's a done deal." Quirrell told him. "But don't judge it yet. I guarantee you're actually gonna love this."

Voldemort rolled his eyes. "Yeah. Don't hold your breath."

XxX

"Who's the kid playing Potter? He's doing it all wrong."

"I don't know." Quirrell admitted, clicking up the volume. "But he's making Harry way more likable. D'you think his Uncle and Aunt really were so awful?"

"Don't know, don't care." Voldemort batted his hand. "Just get to the part where he goes to Hogwarts already."

"I'm not skipping any of it." Quirrell retorted, "Now shut up and actually watch the thing. Hey, look, they're going into Diagon Alley, I think my debut's coming up." He sat forward eagerly, shushing Voldemort, who'd just been about to make some sort of cutting remark. "Oh my God. That's me. Look at the dude who's playing me!"

"Amazing characterisation." Voldemort snorted. "Apart from the accent, but you can't have it all, I guess."

"The stutter, oh God." Quirrell was grinning widely. "That's hilarious. And those hand movements! Dude, look, that's legitimately me!"

"Don't let the fame get to your head, love." Voldemort said, but he was smiling too. "Gotta admit, this is pretty funny."

"And just think, your actor and his animated face are under that turban." Quirrell said, beginning to laugh. "This is so funny! I need to meet this actor one day. If you had the chance to meet an actor, who'd it be?"

"Zac Efron." Voldemort nodded. "For sure. You?"

"Laverne Cox for definite."

"Ah yeah, alright, good one." Voldemort agreed. "Her too."

They settled down, ultimately becoming hooked on the movie, and even Voldemort stopped interrupting, although he was still dreading the ending.

"Look, this is it, this is the bit where –"

"You get burned alive, yeah, I know." Voldemort retorted, the arm around Quirrell's shoulders tightening a little.

"Nono, I mean yeah, but I'm unwrapping the turban and – Ugh, gross! Was that what it really looked like?"

Voldemort snorted with laughter at the disgusted expression on Quirrell's face. "No idea. Maybe. Just look at that creepy ass face, though."

Quirrell wrinkled his nose. "Ugh, that's so wrong…" He muttered, relaxing back against him.

"Not as wrong as what I'm saying." Voldemort nodded towards the TV screen. "Oh – oh shit, no, turn it off. Turn it off."

"No, I gotta see what happens at the end!" Quirrell grabbed the remote from Voldemort's hand and they wrestled with it as the Quirrell on-screen was being burned apart. "Don't turn it off, you ass, I want to see what –"

They ended up getting too carried away with their wrestling, and one of their water glasses toppled over completely, going all over Voldemort's t-shirt. "You twat!" He complained, already shivering at the dampness as he tugged at his shirt. "That was your fault!"

"Sorry, sorry!"

"Now I gotta change!" Voldemort grumbled, pulling the t-shirt off in annoyance.

"No you don't." Quirrell assured him, placing a hand on his now bare chest. "Stay just like that. Who needs shirts?"

Voldemort snorted again, unable to help himself as he bunched his wet t-shirt up and threw it lightly at Quirrell. "This was your plan all along, huh?"

"I'm not complaining." He admitted as he checked him out, before turning back to the TV. "Shit. We missed the ending."

"You've read the book anyway."

"That's not the point." He pouted slightly. "I was enjoying that."

Voldemort hesitated for a slight second, before picking up the remote that had clattered to the ground, passing it over. "Here. Skip it back to the last scene."

"No, it's alright. There's no point if you didn't like it." Quirrell attempted to pass it back.

"Seriously, dude, I don't mind. I did like the film, just not all the bits with me in it." Voldemort pressed the remote back in his hands. "Go to the part where Potter was safe. After the…burning alive bit."

Quirrell smiled at him widely, leaning in to give him a kiss. "You're the greatest."

"No, I'm a sucker for how pouty you are." Voldemort corrected with a small grin. "Just don't tell anyone, got it?"

"Implying they don't already know." Quirrell laughed, before eagerly skipping back the film. "Doesn't this make you feel all nostalgic?"

"In all the wrong ways." Voldemort stretched lazily. "I can't believe I really used to be like that."

"You weren't, not really. Not all the time, at least." Quirrell told him simply. "I mean, I fell for you even then, so what does that say about you?"

Voldemort rolled his eyes a little. "Charmer. Now shut up, you're the one who wanted to watch the end."

Quirrell mockingly put a finger to his lips, but did settle down, resting his head on Voldemort's bare shoulder. The ending came, and as Harry Potter took his final glance back at Hogwarts before stepping onto the train, Quirrell couldn't help but bite down on his lip to stop any embarrassing noises from escaping.

"Are you crying?"

"N-no."

"Oh my God, you are. Quirrell. Dude." Voldemort propped him up from his shoulder, beginning to giggle weakly. "Aw, don't, it's okay." He wiped at his eyes as best as he could, still laughing. "It's just a dumb movie."

He sniffled uselessly. "It – wasn't dumb. I liked it."

"Yeah, yeah, so did I." Voldemort admitted. "But there's no reason to cry about it, is there?"

"There is!" He groaned as he covered his face, his shoulders shaking. "It's – it's sad!"

"You're killing me, please don't." Voldemort was unable to stop his small giggles as he soothingly rubbed Quirrell's shoulder. "Aren't there like six more books after this one? That means more movies, right?"

Quirrell hesitated, lifting his head up as he wiped at his eyes. "You wanna watch them all?"

"Sure. They're funny. The actors are pretty good, too. I love the dude who plays Snape." Voldemort's smile softened. "There. Better?"

He nodded carefully. "O-Ok. I still haven't finished Goblet of Fire, though. Let me read that first."

"I'm in no hurry." Voldemort replied, bringing him in closer again. "Maybe we could skip the Prisoner of Azkaban. Just…y'know."

"Maybe." Quirrell admitted, his voice getting quieter. "That book was kinda weird anyway."

Voldemort smiled again, stroking his hair. "I need to catch up. Listen, let's go to bed. It's late, and you have work tomorrow."

"Don't remind me." He sulked. "I have so much to do. Alright, promise me we'll go see the Chamber of Secrets soon."

Voldemort hesitated for a moment. "That's the next one?"

"Yeah. Is – is that ok?" He sat up properly. "Fuck, I almost forgot about the…"

"No, man, it's fine." Voldemort raised his hands. "It's over. I mean, that last horcrux did screw a lot of things up at Hogwarts not too long ago, but knowing Gilderoy Lockhart, the movie will be nothing like the real event."

Only a few years ago, one of Voldemort's abandoned horcruxes – a journal of some kind - had almost been resurrected at Hogwarts. Thankfully Harry Potter of all people had killed it just in time, but the effect it had on the real Voldemort had been absolute agony. He had seen and heard everything that had taken place at the school, and as a result was in a state of chronic pain months after the actual event. Luckily he'd recovered, but it had been an absolute nightmare, not to mention a humongous slap in the face for Quirrell; after years of thinking he was Voldemort's last horcrux, only to discover there had always been another one left, he'd slipped into a small relapse of utter panic. They had put it behind them for the most part, but watching that movie…

"No." He decided firmly. "Forget it. I don't wanna watch it anyway." With that, he turned the TV off, and stood from the couch. "I gotta sleep."

Voldemort smiled up at him before standing too. "If you're sure." He replied, reaching for Quirrell's hand. "Bed it is."

"There's – there's maybe one thing that'd be really fun." Quirrell said suddenly, in an almost shy manner. "I mean, it's probably really risky and expensive, but there's apparently some sort of Harry Potter theme park thing and –"

"There is?" Voldemort raised his eyebrows before huffing. "That arrogant brat must really be loving all of this…Wait, hold up, you want to go?"

"It's a stupid idea, huh? And – and we don't have the money. I know. Sorry."

"Hey, hey, give me a second." Voldemort managed a grin, gently pressing his finger against Quirrell's lips with his free hand. "Alright…We can look it up, check out the prices, and see if it's manageable. I know Wang Mu would love it, so…"

"So we can?" Quirrell asked in surprise, his eyes widening. "You want to?"

"Looking first." Voldemort reminded him quickly. "'Cause yeah, it could cost a ton, so we need to check everything. But if we can afford it by saving up for a few months, then I don't see why –" He was cut off as Quirrell kissed him passionately, wrapping his arms around his neck.

"I love you, you're the best, oh my God!" Quirrell gasped once he'd allowed Voldemort a moment to get his breath back. "Thank you, thank you! This'll be a perfect family trip. And really funny for us too, to see what the muggles have done with our stories!"

"Love, we need to check the prices…" Voldemort repeated, before he trailed off and smiled. "Fuck it, man, we're still gonna go. Just might need to save up for a long time if it's too out of our price range."

Quirrell beamed before kissing him deeply again. "Maybe – maybe as a Christmas present for Wang?"

"Maybe." He agreed. "Hopefully. We'll look at all the details tomorrow."

"Why not now?"

"'Cause it's late, and you just said you were sleepy."

"I'm not anymore! I'm too excited." Quirrell protested, but took a few moments to get his thoughts together. "Oh, alright, fine. But tomorrow, promise?"

"I promise." Voldemort grinned as he began to lead Quirrell upstairs. "And eventually we'll go to a godforsaken Harry Potter theme park. You're welcome."

"I'm the luckiest person ever."

"Nah." Voldemort replied as he nudged open their bedroom door, kissing his forehead. "That's me. And don't forget it."