Part 2

The doorbell rang at approximately 9AM and Voldemort groaned, rolling away from his spooning position with Quirrell. He gently nudged his partner's shoulder, his heart thumping as Quirrell let out a small whine and opened his eyes.

"Hey man, the neighbour's outside with Wang. Don't worry, I'll just go get her, alright?"

"Mm." Quirrell blearily attempted to roll onto his back so he could properly grab Voldemort's hand. "I love you..."

Voldemort chuckled at that, giving his partner's hand a squeeze. "I love you too. I won't be long." He gave Quirrell's shoulder a comforting rub, then got out of bed and grabbed his dressing robe, shrugging it on as he headed down the stairs.

He opened the door and gave Helen a brief smile and nod, before picking Wang Mu up and hugging her. "Hey there, kid. You have fun?"

"Mmhmm. Is Daddy here?"

"Yep. He's not doing too badly. Hey, Helen, thanks. I really appreciate it."

"No problem at all. You've got a good girl there."

"I know," Voldemort affectionately ruffled Wang Mu's hair as he put her back down. "Anyway, thanks."

"Now remember, if there's anything else you need -"

"Yeah."

" - how is Quirnius, anyway?" Her voice lowered, "I mean...really."

Voldemort resisted the urge to clench his jaw. "He's ok. Like I said. A whole lot of shock and a broken leg, but he's gonna be just fine."

"Yes, yes, shock is natural. You know, the same thing happened to a friend of mine – a long time ago, but there was an accident, and she went positively crazy with shock –"

"Mm…" He nodded, and attempted another smile while contemplating if it would be over the top to slam the door into her foot.

"You know, it's a good idea to maybe phone up a therapist," She continued obliviously. "I know some great people. It's totally normal, nothing to worry about, I think everyone has been in therapy at one point or other."

"He already has a therapist." Voldemort couldn't help but finally snap, and then coughed awkwardly. "Uh, he has for years. Quirrell's a tough one, he'll be fine. Anyway, thanks for your, y'know, concern."

"Oh. Of course. Well, I'd better be going..."

"Mm. See you around." Voldemort tried to close the door after her as quietly as possible instead of slamming it, then groaned lamely. "I don't know how you do it, Wang. I'm really sorry for making you stay with her last night."

Wang Mu blinked up at him. "Why, Papa? I had fun."

"Oh. Well, good for you." Voldemort said, completely perplexed at how anyone could stand that woman's company. "You want to see your Daddy, then?"

She nodded eagerly and he smiled, taking her hand. "Ok. But remember, you gotta be very careful. His leg's really sore. And..." Ok, how best to explain Quirrell's PTSD and guilt attacks? "And he's feeling a little sad," He finished lamely. "So if he's acting a bit weird, don't worry. It's alright."

"Sad?" She repeated with a frown.

"Yeah. Because of the car crash. We gotta pay for repairs now because I don't trust insurance companies." He said, not exactly lying. Shit, that was gonna cost them...He'd have to look up some enchantments for repairing cars, and fast.

"Oh. Ok." Wang Mu hurried ahead, shoving open their bedroom door. "Daddy, Daddy, I'm back!"

Quirrell had sat himself up so his back was against the headboard. He was smiling despite being pale and shivery, and he was obviously in a great deal of pain. "Hey, sweetie." He carefully lifted her up onto the bed so that she was next to him, and wrapped his arms around her. "It's so good to see you." His voice was cracking slightly, and he held her close.

Voldemort immediately made his way over in case his husband started to cry. "Quirrell, you'd better have some of your muggle medicine. You can't wait around while I make some potion, you're in agony."

Quirrell kissed Wang Mu's forehead, holding her tight, while their daughter squirmed a little impatiently. "Daddy, can I see your leg?"

Quirrell laughed shakily. "It's in a cast. It's not that exciting." He turned his head to look at Voldemort, giving a small nod. "Medicine. Probably a good idea."

"How are you feeling? Besides the pain, I mean." Voldemort asked him gently, stroking his hair while Wang Mu was distracted by moving the sheets to see Quirrell's leg.

"I'm...alright." Quirrell said quietly, his voice cracking a little. "You know. Still hating myself for what could've happened..."

"Wang, what did I tell you? You gotta be gentle." Voldemort said quickly as Quirrell grimaced in pain due to their daughter's movements.

"No, n-no - it's fine -" Quirrell gasped out, though he reached to grip Voldemort's hand. "But I'll show you later, sweetie, ok? It - it's kinda sore just now..."

"You heard him." Voldemort said firmly and Wang Mu retreated, sulking a bit. He turned his attention back to Quirrell, kissing his forehead. "Don't think about that stuff, Squirrel, alright? We've been over it already. There's nothing to feel bad for."

Quirrell looked away, but Voldemort had already seen his eyes filling up. "Quirrell, don't. Please..."

Wang Mu shifted back over to Quirrell a little anxiously, using her little hand to wipe away some of his tears. "Don't be sad, Daddy. Papa can fix the car." She wrapped her arms around his waist as best as she could, and at that Quirrell only cried harder.

"Ok, ok, you know what..." Voldemort hurriedly picked Wang Mu up, "Wang, your Daddy's obviously not feeling too great, so I think it'd be better if you stayed downstairs and watched TV or something while I get him his medicine. Yeah?"

Wang Mu snuggled against him, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Mmhmm..."

"Alright. Quirrell, listen to me. I'll be back in just a bit." Voldemort said as firmly as he could to get some sort of organisation here before Wang Mu started crying as well. "Are you listening?"

Quirrell nodded, biting down on his fist in an effort to quieten his sobs.

"Good. I won't be long." Voldemort sighed slightly as he exited the room, Wang Mu in his arms. "Ok, kiddo, you're being really good. I'm proud of you."

"Daddy's crying."

"I know, I know. He'll be just fine, don't you worry."

"Did I hurt his leg? Is that why?"

"No, no! It's wasn't you, Wang. Remember, I told you he was feeling a little sad."

"Is he still scared, Papa? Because of the crash? He shouldn't be scared. He should be happy that he's ok."

Voldemort smiled a little as he sat Wang Mu down on the couch. "You'd think so, huh? But sometimes it's a little more complicated than that, sweetie." He found the remote and switched the TV on to a kids' channel. "Now, will you be ok here? Daddy and I won't be long."

"Give Daddy kisses from me."

"Sure." He told her, glancing over his shoulder as he walked back up the stairs and to their bathroom to get Quirrell's medicine before returning to their room. "Painkillers." He said simply to a still sniffling Quirrell. "One every two hours. Start 'em now and I'll make you some potion."

Quirrell caught the box as Voldemort threw it at him, wheezing slightly as Voldemort sat on the edge of the bed.

"I'm meant to give you kisses from Wang." He continued, as Quirrell opened up the box. "She didn't explicitly say how many, so here are a couple to get started." He kissed Quirrell's cheek a few times, before gently trailing them down to peck at his lips, relieved when he began to giggle weakly.

"Wait a sec," Quirrell replied as he grabbed a glass of water on his nightstand and swallowed the tablet. He placed the glass down, then turned back to Voldemort, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. "Okay, m-more."

Voldemort laughed, gently brushing his thumb across Quirrell's cheekbone before softly kissing his lips again. "You wanna go downstairs? Are you up for that?"

"I'm scaring our daughter. Maybe not."

"Don't be ridiculous, she's not scared of you. She's worried about you."

Quirrell sighed, shifting to sit on the edge of the bed, grimacing in pain at the movement. "Look, I saw her. She's terrified and I don't blame her. I'm a mess."

"That's not…" Voldemort began, and then sighed. "Ok, if you're sure, it might not be a bad idea to just rest up. I can start making some potion."

Quirrell nodded tiredly, reaching for the notepad on his nightstand. "I'm making a list."

"Oh yeah? Of what?"

"Of full safety plans." Quirrell replied, beginning to scribble hastily. "Firstly, I'll never drive ever again. I'm not going to go on any airplanes. I won't go out after work anymore. Oh, and –"

"Wait, hey, hey, I'm confused." Voldemort took the pen from Quirrell's hand. "What're you talking about?"

"Oh, c'mon!" Quirrell shoved the notepad at him. "I can't take any more risks, or we'll both be dead!"

"Quirrell." Voldemort began sternly. "You don't need to do this. This is ridiculous."

"Whatever you say, but you're gonna have to face facts sooner or later." Quirrell replied grumpily. "As for now, I'm staying in bed so I won't put you in any more danger."

"You're not putting me in any –"

"Look at my god damn leg, and tell me I didn't almost –"

"That wasn't your fault! It could've happened to anybody. Like I said, accidents sometimes happen."

"And it's not gonna happen again." Quirrell replied darkly, before closing his eyes and rubbing his forehead. "I have a headache. Please can you check on Wang?"

"I'm phoning your therapist first."

"What? Why? What's she gonna do?"

"Dude, you're in shock." Voldemort told him, gesturing helplessly. "You've had a really bad scare, and she can help you out with it better than I can."

Quirrell paused for a moment, seemingly taking in Voldemort's words. "I guess…I guess I am maybe overreacting a tiny bit." He said after another long pause.

"Not overreacting exactly, just –"

"I'll phone her, but we have another issue – Wang will be starting primary school soon. Who's gonna drive her?"

Voldemort's nose wrinkled a little, still not sure why a muggle primary school was necessary, before his eyes widened at Quirrell's expectant look. "You mean…?"

"I mean I think you should learn how to drive."

"Dude, no!" He exclaimed. "No, I'm – I don't even know how it works, it's so complicated!"

"I'll teach you. This is a good thing, actually. It's about time you learned." This had evidently cheered Quirrell up, as he smiled at him enthusiastically. "You'll be able to chauffer me for a change."

Voldemort folded his arms. "I don't want to drive."

"Neither do I, honey." Quirrell rolled his eyes. "That's the point. It'll be fun, you'll gain some more independence. Imagine, you can drive anywhere you want, whenever."

"We have one car, and you need it for work. How am I gonna –"

"I'll start lessons tomorrow." Quirrell clapped his hands, before settling back in bed. "If you fix the car up, it'll all be perfect. I think it's being towed back to the house."

"Quirrell!" Voldemort whined. "You need to focus on resting, not teaching me useless crap."

"Daddies!" They both jumped as they heard Wang Mu's voice. "Daddies, where are yooouuu?"

"Shoot, please, go to her." Quirrell told him, already looking frightened again. "Tell her I'm sorry for crying."

"Don't be –" Voldemort was interrupted as their bedroom door swung open and Wang Mu hurried in. "Kiddo, I told you to stay downstairs."

"I know." She hugged his leg eagerly. "But, but, I got very bored. So I thought Daddy should read."

"You got bored after five minutes?" Voldemort picked her up effortlessly, causing her to squeal. "Damn, you've got a short attention span. Daddy's gotta rest, so I'll read instead, ok?"

"No, I'll do it." Quirrell said suddenly. "I want to. And Voldemort, watch your language."

"What? I said 'damn', that's totally harmless." He dismissed, setting Wang Mu on the bed. "Wang, make sure you're extra careful around your Daddy's leg while he's reading."

"Cross my heart." She promised solemnly, before grabbing the Harry Potter book from their nightstand. "Let's read the train bit."

"Let's." Quirrell agreed as he accepted the book, flicking to the correct page. "You're welcome to stay, Voldemort."

"I might, if you don't mind." He sat down on the edge of the bed, and for the next half hour was immersed listening to Quirrell's voice telling them about the Hogwarts Express.

XxX

"Ok, good, now – no, no, don't, you're gonna –"

Voldemort swore as he stalled the car for the fifth time, causing them both to lurch forwards in their seats. "I told you I was gonna be crap at this!"

"You're not crap, you just need some time to learn, that's all. Same with any new thing." Quirrell, ever the peacemaker, attempted to assure him.

"Your leg only just got fixed and I'm already battering you with this thing." Voldemort bitterly thumped at the steering wheel. "Fucking cars. Fucking driving. Fucking –"

"Start the engine again and try to at least get down the path without braking every two seconds." Quirrell advised him, already leaning across to turn the key. The car sprang back to life, and Voldemort swallowed nervously, gripping at the steering wheel again. "Awesome, you're doing fine. Keep going."

The car swerved slightly, and Voldemort slammed on the brakes again, which even made Quirrell yelp. "Sorry, sorry! I panicked!"

"Why? You were doing a good job!" Quirrell attempted once he'd got his breath back. "You don't have to be scared, it's just us on the pathway."

"I'm not scared." He lied. "I just – it's so clunky. I can't operate this thing. It just got repaired, I don't want to smash it up."

"There's nothing to smash into." Quirrell gestured. "Apart from that fence, but even you couldn't hit that from this distance."

"I hate cars." Voldemort muttered sulkily, as he dared himself to drive onwards for a few more seconds.

"You weren't saying that last year when we pulled over and you had sex with me in the backseat."

"I wasn't driving then, that's completely different – shit!" He swerved again, rapidly shaking his head as he turned the engine off. "No, no, I'm not doing this anymore. I don't like it. It's like it has a mind of its own."

Quirrell sighed, though he patted Voldemort's thigh comfortingly. "No worries, dude. This was just a test-run, you don't have to learn. I just figured it'd be good for you."

"Well, I –"

"Maybe if you got a proper teacher, which could be better. Then you'd actually take a test and get licensed and –"

"You're the best teacher I know. With everything. It's just me, I'm screwing it up."

"Don't be stupid, no one's an amazing driver within seconds. I failed my test twice."

"What?" Voldemort turned to stare at him. "You? You failed something? Twice?"

"I'm not some magical entity, Voldemort, of course I can fail at some things." Quirrell snorted. "Yeah, I was shit the first time 'cause I was so nervous. And the second time I was just bad."

"Oh." Voldemort pursed his lips a little. "That's actually a little comforting."

"Happy to help." Quirrell saluted patronisingly. "Now get out so I can drive us back up the two metres to our house."

"No, wait…" Voldemort faltered. "I know you're still scared about driving. I'll do it."

"Hon, I'm fine. I only said all that shit when I was stuck in my panic mode. I can drive for five seconds up the path. Just, y'know, not the motorway yet."

"Even so," Voldemort switched the engine back on before he could change his mind. "Let me try. Should I reverse?"

"No." Quirrell replied immediately. "No, that's a whole other level entirely. Drive just a little further, then make a turn."

"Right. No problem."

"Shouldn't be." Quirrell nodded. "But if it is, we have each other's backs." There was a small pause, before he grinned and added: "No pun intended."