"What're you up to?"

Quirrell didn't glance up from the papers strewn on the table, and just continued to scribble hastily. "Just a little side-project."

"Well, can you move some of it?" Devin asked, impatiently tapping his shoulder. "I've got to put my coffee somewhere. Since when did you have time for any side-projects? Aren't finals coming up?"

"Yes." He admitted, shoving some of the papers into his briefcase. "But this is really important. Not like the finals aren't, I totally get that, but I'm on top of grading for everyone right now."

"So what's the project?" She questioned, taking the seat next to him, tiredly sipping from her coffee. Monday mornings were always rough starts for teachers. "I thought you already had your side-project of modelling, Mr. Big Shot."

"That's just a bit of fun." Quirrell batted his hand. "I've appeared in one magazine. It was hardly front page news."

"But you looked gorgeous." Devin stated, shooting him a playful wink. "Then again, what else is new? So, you're broadening your horizons even more? Is teaching at this crappy school not fulfilling? Can't imagine why."

"It's not a crappy school." Quirrell argued, poking her shoulder before taking off his reading glasses. "You love it as much as I do."

"Guilty as charged."

"And I do find it fulfilling. This is just…more to see if I can. I really, really want to try."

His best friend rested her chin in her hand, scrutinizing him. "If anyone's going to achieve a goal, it'll be you."

"Eh." He pulled a face, scratching his jaw. "It's a big goal. I'm taking a load of tests to work at a hospital."

Not just any hospital: St. Mungo's. The dream hadn't come out of nowhere. He'd always wanted to help people ever since having needed so much medical care himself after Azkaban. And what better way to help than at the biggest hospital in the Wizarding World? He was smart enough. He was skilled enough. All he had to do was pass their tests and interviews and they'd have to accept his help. It didn't matter if they despised him. That wasn't important.

"A hospital?" Devin repeated, a little dumbfounded. "Hon, that takes years. You'll need so much training. How'd you balance teaching and that at the same time?"

"I'll just do it part-time. Like, a few weekends. It'll work out."

"What does Joe say?"

"Joe's all for it." Quirrell replied, which was true. Voldemort had always encouraged him on this, even if the idea of working in the Wizarding World was daunting for the both of them. But this was a hospital, not Diagon Alley. He could make a real difference, and it'd be a safe environment and –

"Earth to Quirrell." Devin snapped her fingers in front of his face and he blinked in surprise. "I am totally with you on this. I think you'll ace it. But you're forgetting something really important that's happening today."

"What?"

"Isn't it your anniversary?"

"Oh." He nodded, tapping his pencil against the table absent-mindedly. "Yes. June 8th. The day he said he loved me."

"So – what'd he do? Flowers? Reservations somewhere fancy?" She prompted, nudging him impatiently.

"He didn't do anything." Quirrell replied flatly, though disappointment crept into his voice. "Nothing. He just, y'know, kissed me and then I came here. I guess it's not a huge deal. He was trying to feed Wang and she kept throwing her stuff on the floor and you know that irritates him."

"Rewind." Devin held up her hands, a frown on her face. "You, the sucker for romance, just said that him not making a fuss of your anniversary isn't a huge deal?"

He shrugged lightly, and attempted a smile. "Well, we're both busy. Like you said, my students have exams coming up and I'm working on this side-project, and he's got his own project too as well as looking after Wang, so –" He cut himself off at the expression on her face, and cleared his throat. "Of course it's a huge fucking deal, Devin, but I can't say that."

"Why not? Did he at least get you a card?"

"I'm sure he has. He just didn't have time this morning, ok? I didn't have time to give him mine."

"Quirrell, honey. No wonder you threw yourself into your paperwork at eight in the morning."

"It's not like that." He protested, though he was already putting his glasses back on to resume looking over the remaining papers.

Devin sighed and comfortingly patted his shoulder. "I'm sure you're right. You know how much he cares already."

"Yeah." His grip on the pencil tightened slightly. "Still. Wouldn't hurt to hear him say 'happy anniversary' or…whatever."

"I know. But hey, I'm sure he's got big plans for you later."

"Mm." Quirrell murmured, glancing at his watch. "Shit. I have my seniors in five minutes."

"I'll clear your stuff up for you. I'm on my break for another hour."

"You will? You're an angel."

"I do what I can. I also know you'll never clear it up yourself and that'll piss off our delightful boss."

Quirrell huffed a small laugh as he hastily grabbed his briefcase, making his way to the door of the teachers' lounge. "I owe you one."

XxX

"I don't geddit." Wang Mu mumbled, scrunching up her nose as she stared at the TV. "Why Grumpy doesn't like Snow White."

"'Cause Grumpy sucks, that's why." Voldemort replied, flicking his wand so that the newly ironed clothes were folded into a neat pile.

"Snow White is so nice an' – an' pretty." Wang protested with a small pout. "Grumpy's so mean!"

"Living up to his namesake, I guess." Voldemort said, glancing at the TV himself while he worked. God, they had so much laundry, it wasn't even funny. "Who's your favourite dwarf, then?"

"Um…" She paused, thinking it through. "Prob'ly Happy. 'Cause he's…Happy."

"Fair enough."

"But I wanna be a princess. Or – or a fairy. I'm just a witch."

"Just a witch?" Voldemort smiled. "Being a witch is pretty awesome. Way more fun than a princess."

"Noo," She shook her head adamantly.

"You don't wanna marry a prince, do you? Or princess. Or whichever. Then you'd have to always go to royal meetings and wear dresses all the time. I think you'd get pretty bored."

She murmured something, squeezing Patch to her chest.

"What was that?" He asked, momentarily stopping his ironing. "Did I touch a nerve?"

"Princesses don't go to Azkyban."

Voldemort paused for a long time, trying to find the right words, and eventually managed a short laugh. "Kiddo, no one goes to Azkaban. Especially not you."

"Daddy's a wizard an' he –"

"Wang, I've told you this so many times. It was an…accident. A mistake."

"Lemme know what it is, please, Papa?"

He clenched his fist a little to ground himself, before switching the iron off completely. "Wang Mu, I thought you were watching your movie."

"If I never know, I could have a mistake and go there too." She turned to look at him, and her lower lip trembled.

Voldemort moved to her side in an instant, sitting next to her on the couch and taking her little hand. "Alright, I'm gonna make you a promise right now."

"A cross your heart promise?"

"Yeah." He assured her. "I promise, you will never go to Azkaban, and neither will Daddy. Azkaban is a…" He faltered. "It's a bad place for bad people."

"But Daddy's not bad."

"Exactly. That's why it was a mistake. They thought he was bad, but he wasn't."

"Why didn't he just come home?"

Voldemort faltered, and tried to speak without giving too much away. "Because it…Well, you know how bad people go to prison?"

"Uh-huh."

"Azkaban is a prison for wizards and witches."

Wang Mu gasped loudly, her grip on her toy tightening. "Daddy was locked away!"

"Wang Mu –"

"Daddy was in one of those – those rooms with bars and couldn't come home!"

"Wang Mu, I know this is really sad, I know, but it's ok. I'm telling you this because it'll never happen again and you don't have to be scared."

"But Daddy is so good. So they – they let Daddy come home. And then he was happy."

"Yes." Voldemort said after another painful silence as he remembered. "Yes, then he was home and I was here with him."

Wang Mu sighed in relief, but she was visibly upset and snuggled up to Voldemort for comfort. "Azkyban is prison."

"It is." Voldemort confirmed, feeling a little sick. "And you'll never, ever go there. I cross my heart on that one."

"Azkyban must've hurt, 'cause Daddy has those sores just here." Wang Mu rubbed her wrists. "Prob'ly handcuffs. They have those in prison."

He'd said way too much. This was unbearable. "Yes, Wang, those were from handcuffs, but please don't mention them to your Daddy. He still finds it a little hard."

"Ok." She nodded solemnly. "It's so silly people thought he was bad. He prob'ly told them off! An' then they felt super silly."

Voldemort imagined Quirrell lecturing Dementors, and then was transported back to when Quirrell had been released. Voldemort coming to find him. Going to hospital. Quirrell almost dying. Medicine and oxygen masks and a lot of doctors and injuries and mental health and…

He jumped violently at a knock on the door, staring around in confusion, before Wang Mu tapped his arm. "Door, Papa. Someone's here."

"Right, uh-huh." He mumbled, shakily getting to his feet and making his way over to the front door to be greeted by Devin. He blinked in surprise, before glancing at his watch. "It's –"

"I'm on my break." She told him as she raised both her eyebrows. "I'm also here to remind you of something important, 'cause you forgot all about it, didn't you?"

"What?" He asked dumbly, gesturing for her to come inside.

"Hey, Wang!" Devin greeted her, ruffling her hair. "Oh, sweet, Snow White! I love this one."

"I don't like Grumpy." Wang Mu informed her. "But I like Happy."

"That's the way, a positive attitude!" Devin beamed, before turning back to Voldemort expectantly. "It's June 8th."

"I have a calendar." He replied, before his face fell completely. "Oh, oh my God, it's June 8th. That June 8th. That's today?"

"I figured as much." She playfully rolled her eyes. "Don't worry, I'm here to save your ass. Consider me on babysitting duty."

"I'm such an idiot." Voldemort groaned, mild panic taking over. "I forgot our anniversary! I'm the worst husband in the world!"

"Hey, at least it's not your wedding anniversary."

"No, but it's still important! We found out we loved each other today! Today!" He hastily grabbed his wallet, opening it up to count how much money was in there. "Shit! I mean, shoot, sorry, don't ever repeat that, Wang."

"Ok, ok, dude! Chill!" Devin held out her hands to stop him in his tracks. "First thing's first, a card. Did you manage to –"

"No!" His voice came out kind of strangled, and he paced around the living room. "I meant to get him all these gifts and I totally blanked!"

"You know he's not expecting a bunch of presents. He just wants some acknowledgment. And maybe flowers."

"Flowers, right, I can do that. I'll get him a nice card, some roses…Maybe chocolate. And – no, he probably won't want to go out, he's been so busy lately, I can just do nice things for him here…"

"You've got plenty time. He's working until five today." Devin told him, already settling down on the couch.

"God, why didn't he say anything this morning?" Voldemort groaned, already shrugging on his leather jacket.

"Y'know what he's like. He's waiting for you to make the first move, sweep him off his feet, yadda yadda…"

"Naturally. And why not? It's what I do every time it's an important occasion, but today I just - Damn it, is he really upset?"

"He just seemed a little disappointed, but only 'cause he thought you weren't making a fuss. I don't think it crossed his mind that you just…let it slip this one time."

"Good, great, so he doesn't know how awful I am." Voldemort shoved his wallet into his pocket, kissing the top of Wang Mu's head as he passed her. "Be good for Devin, kiddo. I won't be long. And hey, Devin, I seriously owe you one."

"What a lucky girl I am." She called after him, laughing to herself as the front door closed behind him.

XxX

"Mr. Q, can we open a window in here?"

Quirrell glanced up from his desk, nodding at the girl who had posed the question. "God, yeah. It's so hot. Andrew, could you open the window next to you there?"

"Why can't we have this lesson outside?" Another student asked, tugging at his tie.

"'Cause your principal will kill me. I really want to be outside too." Quirrell replied honestly, rolling up his shirt sleeves. "Why don't they have any air conditioning in this place?"

"Because all the money here is spent on the sport facilities." Andrew grouched, bitterly turning the page of his History book.

Quirrell huffed a small laugh, placing his pen down and interlocking his fingers. "And you guys don't like sports?"

The class all muttered in affirmation, and he nodded in sympathy. "Can't imagine it's much fun in this weather either. Have you all finished your reading?"

"It's nearly vacation, Mr. Quirrell." Sarah, a student in the front row, piped up in exasperation. "None of us want to do any work anymore."

"Neither do I." Quirrell raised his hands in surrender. "But I'm only doing my job."

"You do it way better than anyone else here." Sarah added. "So why don't we all take a break now?"

Quirrell grinned, rolling his eyes as he reclined back in his chair. "Nuh-uh, you guys, flattery does not work on me."

"Please?" Someone else clamoured. "It's too hot to concentrate."

"Yeah, yeah…" Quirrell sighed, running a hand through his dark hair. "Ok, maybe we can watch some funny cat videos online."

"Are you being sarcastic?" Sarah dared to ask, and he grinned again.

"Only a little."

A student who had only recently moved to the school kept staring at his wrists, but he simply smiled at her, and she shyly smiled back. "Tasha? What do you want to do?"

She shrugged lightly, shrinking into herself a tiny bit. She'd barely said two words ever since she'd been in his class, but apparently he wasn't the only teacher experiencing this. He knew high school was a bitch, so he tried to be as welcoming as possible to encourage her to open up a bit more.

"There's a guitar in the supply closet." She eventually said, and managed another faint smile. "I wish I could play guitar instead of doing History."

"Me too." Quirrell agreed, already getting up from his chair. "How long have you been playing guitar for?"

"Since I was six."

He whistled, opening up the door to retrieve a battered looking guitar. "You want to show us what you can do?"

Tasha immediately shook her head, blushing fiercely. "No. I mean, I don't play in front of people."

Quirrell sat on his desk, idly strumming the instrument to familiarise himself with it. He hadn't played in ages. "I bet you're really good, if you've been playing for so long." He told her, but she only shrank back into her chair.

"Are you gonna take requests, Mr. Q?" Sarah asked, smirking a little as she leaned forward.

"Sure thing." He increased his strumming, furrowing his eyebrows in concentration. "Hit me."

Immediately, all sorts of song suggestions were being fired at him, and he tried to focus on just one. "Wait, wait, what was that one? I'm not doing any Frozen, I've seen that movie so many times. The other one. Tangled! Hell yeah." He experimented with the chords before settling into the song. "You all need to sing it, though. I don't know all the words."

Within five minutes the boring, stuffy classroom had been completely revitalised. Even Tasha was smiling and getting involved, which was making Quirrell's day. Unfortunately, Quirrell's boss, Harry, didn't seem to find it as fun, because he was soon impatiently knocking on the classroom door until Quirrell caved and let him in.

"What's going on?" He practically demanded, glowering at the guitar which was still in Quirrell's hand.

"Just a little pre-vacation fun." Quirrell replied lightly. "The kids needed to let off some steam. There's only so much you can read on the Cold War in the summer."

"Be that as it may," He rolled his eyes, "the rest of us are trying to work. This isn't School of Rock, and you're no Jack Black."

"I have no idea what that means."

"Can you just wait until the end of the day? Please, Quirinus? You have no idea how much work I have to do." Always one for dramatic flair, Harry rubbed his forehead with a weak groan.

"I actually totally do. I have, like, four classes and a kid to raise."

"Don't be so damn smart."

"Sorry."

"Just keep it down. That's all I'm asking."

"Right, yeah. Sorry, Harry." Quirrell said, shooting him a smile. "I swear it won't happen again. Or if it does, it won't be as loud."

Harry rolled his eyes again before leaving, and Quirrell carefully closed the door after him. "What a buzzkill." He murmured to no one in particular, before sitting back on top of his desk. "Anyway. Here's Wonderwall."

XxX

Voldemort was all set by the time Quirrell eventually got home, opening up the door before Quirrell had even reached the front pathway.

"Hey!" He greeted him, a little breathlessly. "Hey, you! What's the long face for?"

"My boss says I'm no Jack Black." Quirrell replied, still a bit put-out. "I don't know what it means, but it was probably a dig at my guitar playing."

"Jack Black? He's an actor."

"Right. I'll need to watch School of Rock." Quirrell kissed his cheek as he moved past him, only to be stopped from entering the house by Voldemort holding onto his hand.

"Excuse you. That's no way to greet your husband on your anniversary."

Quirrell raised his eyebrows, his expression turning hopeful. "I've got you a card and a present. Sorry, I was so rushed this morning, and you didn't say anything –"

"I know, I know, I was rushed too. But just you wait, man; there's a bubble bath with your name on it. And chocolates."

"Aw, Voldemort, you didn't have to go to such much trouble." Quirrell said, though he was evidently delighted. "I mean, honestly. There's no need to make a fuss."

"Yeah, yeah, who're you trying to kid? Get in." Voldemort playfully dragged him inside, and Quirrell was greeted by a large vase of dark red roses on the kitchen table.

"They're gorgeous." Quirrell sighed, reaching out to admire them closely. "God, I love you. Where's Wang?"

"Devin kindly agreed to have her for the night. I figured we'd be pretty busy."

"We have the house to ourselves?" Quirrell asked, like it was too good to be true. "For a whole night? On our anniversary?"

"Yeah, isn't that great?" Voldemort drawled teasingly, breaking off a piece of chocolate and placing it in Quirrell's mouth. "So take your pick. The couch, the bed, the floor. Hell, maybe even the damn bath. Your wish is my command."

"This is so much to take in. Wait, let me give you your card and have more of this chocolate."

"Naturally. We also have champagne."

"No fucking way, oh my God. This is the best." Quirrell beamed, placing his hands on Voldemort's hips and pulling him in close. "You've outdone yourself."

"I do what I can." Voldemort smiled, mentally patting himself on the back. "Now kiss me and let me pamper you."

"Gladly." Quirrell replied, before he leaned in and kissed him deeply, his grip on Voldemort's hips tightening. "I love you."

"I love you too." Voldemort smiled, pecking his lips a few times. "Never forget that."

"I promise."

"A cross your heart kind of promise?" Voldemort asked, his smile widening.

Quirrell nodded firmly. "Absolutely. Now pour me champagne and carry me to the bath."

"You drive a hard bargain." Voldemort said, kissing the tip of his nose. "But you've got yourself a deal."

A/N: I know this hardly had Wang Mu in it, my bad. I just really wanted to explore how much Quirrell has grown and how much he's admired/respected now, instead of always being undermined and teased like at Hogwarts. Also wanted to show how well he's recovered after Azkaban. I mean, Quirrell is so great, y'know?

And yeah, I'm so sorry, I made a Wonderwall meme reference.