Wang Mu's final day at home before going to Hogwarts had been spent doing all the fun things she liked that weren't really available in the Wizarding World. She seemed to be enjoying herself, which was the most important thing, and didn't seem to be too worried about leaving.

Quirrell was pleased she was excited about school. It was a great thing.

Mostly.

It was getting dark, and they'd just finished watching one of her favourite movies (thankfully not a Harry Potter one), when she carefully approached him in the kitchen. Voldemort had gone upstairs to double-check she had everything neatly sorted in her trunk, so Quirrell was taking the opportunity to make himself herbal tea. Which he really needed.

"Hey, sweetie," he said as he saw her. "How are you? Excited?"

She didn't respond, and instead kept looking at him. He stopped stirring his tea, waiting for her to speak.

Wang Mu bit her lip and eventually mumbled, "Daddy? What if I'm not in a good House?"

"Oh Wang, all houses are good," Quirrell replied as he took a sip of his drink. "Don't listen to your Papa."

"He said if I wasn't in Slytherin I had to walk home right away," Wang said quietly, and her face crumpled a little.

"He was just joking," Quirrell told her softly, making a mental note to snap at Voldemort for that later. "Really, you don't need to take everything he says so seriously. Besides, Ravenclaw's the best house. I'm kidding!" He added hurriedly as she began to sniffle. "Oh, Wang, don't get upset. The houses are totally irrelevant. Hogwarts is meant to be fun, remember?"

She sniffled, rubbing at her eyes. "You didn't find it fun, I know you didn't."

"Well…" He faltered. "That was different. I didn't have many friends. But you're a great kid, you'll meet lots of lovely people, and…"

"I don't think I want to go. I might stay home."

"Now, c'mon. Are the houses really bothering you that much?"

"I...I don't know. It's just...leaving home."

"I know, I know, we'll miss you loads. But we have the holidays, sweetie. It's not like you're going away forever." Quirrell moved from the counter and gave her a gentle hug. "You'll be absolutely fine."

There was a small silence, and then she blurted, "What're you hiding from me?"

"Huh?"

"I heard you on the phone to one of the professors. Something about Papa."

"Oh, uh...I mean, y'know how it is..." Quirrell let go of her, hurriedly turning away and pretending to check the calendar, just for something to do in order to hide his expression. He had in fact contacted Professor McGonagall, requesting very politely that he'd really prefer it if classes didn't teach too much on Lord Voldemort. His husband didn't know what he'd done, and if he did find out, Quirrell didn't know how he'd really react. "We're not hiding anything, I mean, you know his past..."

"I know he did bad stuff, yeah," she insisted. "He explained it to me, you both did. He wasn't good and wanted to get Harry, then you got involved and then…"

"And then?" He challenged.

She averted her gaze. "I'm just saying, I...I know. I know about it already. I don't want to fall behind in class or anything, just 'cause you don't want me hearing about stuff I already heard from you."

Quirrell still didn't look at her. "It's not like that, Wang. You won't be behind in anything. I promise."

"But why-"

"Listen, can we drop this? It's late, actually. You should probably go up to bed."

"Daddy, that is the worst attempt at-"

"No, really. Big day tomorrow, right?"

Wang Mu huffed. "I'll just do my own research if nobody's going to tell me anything, you know that, right?"

"No you won't, Wang," Quirrell replied firmly. "And there's nothing worth reading about it, anyway. Just a lot of miserable crap that wizards love to talk about."

She seemed a little taken aback. "Language," she reminded him.

Quirrell sighed heavily. Not for the first time, he was doubting if this Hogwarts thing was a good idea. She could continue a muggle education! That was much more worthwhile than learning a few spells for the next seven years. "You're right, I'm sorry. Come on, it's time for bed."

"Are you hiding something from me? Daddy, this isn't fair!"

"A lot of things aren't," Quirrell retorted, trying to keep his voice even. "It's not fair that I have to do this. It's not fair that your Papa can't go back to the Wizarding World. It's not fair that your grandparents haven't been around until only a few years ago. Sorry, Wang Mu, life isn't full of roses."

"Jeez!" Wang Mu frowned. "What's the matter with you?"

Quirrell rubbed his forehead. "God, I know," he admitted. "I'm sorry. I just don't want you to keep asking. Everything is so..."

She approached him carefully. "It's ok," she eventually murmured. "I am actually pretty tired. How early are we up tomorrow?"

"Pretty early." He stroked her hair affectionately. "Gotta catch that train."

"Then I should go to bed," she told him, before standing on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. "G'night."

"Night..." Quirrell replied softly, watching after her as she walked up the stairs. God. Tomorrow she'd really be going. What was she going to hear? His hands began to shake and he hurriedly switched off the kitchen light and made his way to his bedroom.

Voldemort was lying on the bed, reading one of the Harry Potter books with a scowl on his face, and barely noticed Quirrell closing the door behind him and muttering the muffialto spell.

"So, I was thinking," Quirrell started immediately, causing Voldemort to look up in surprise. "Muggle education is starting to sound like an awesome idea. I can look into schools for her, and she could maybe start next year if there's no room. She'd have to study at home for this year, but that's fine, 'cause I'm fully qualified. So-"

"Whoa, whooa, slow down. Hogwarts, Quirrell. She's going to Hogwarts tomorrow."

"Yeah, but about that. I really don't think it's necessary." Quirrell replied, having some of his tea to hide his nervousness. "I mean, Transfiguration? When she could learn useful stuff, like basic mathematics?"

"Quirrell," Voldemort said firmly. "She's a witch and she's going to a magic school. End of discussion."

Quirrell bristled. "Well, I don't think she should, so this discussion is far from over."

"Ok, slow down. Why are you starting to panic about all of this now, when she's going tomorrow? Couldn't you have spoken to me about it properly if you were starting to get anxious?"

"Starting?" Quirrell echoed incredulously. "Honey, I've been anxious for as long as I can remember about this."

"Quirrell-"

"So you're cool with her learning all about your crimes, with all the gory details? Cool about hearing school kids degrade you in front of her? Cool about her learning that you were the one who sent me to Azkaban?"

There was a very long silence, and Voldemort rubbed his jaw. "Squirrel. For the past year or so, you insisted that you didn't want her to know that I was the bastard that sent you there. I want to tell her on our own terms, of course I do. But so far, with you, there's never been a right time."

"Can you really blame me for that?" Quirrell demanded. "What am I meant to do, buy her an ice cream and tell her that her Papa sent me to prison, his bad! It's not so easy. I'm fucking terrified."

"And I'm not?" Voldemort retorted. "D'you think I don't lie awake at night wondering what she'll think of me?"

"Then why are we sending her to Hogwarts?" Quirrell sat on the bed, trying not to sound too eager. "We totally don't have to! All of this can be avoided."

Voldemort looked at him, carefully shaking his head. "You know it can't, Squirrel. Hogwarts is expecting her, she's magic. Not only that, but she wants to go, she really does. She'll excel there."

Quirrell faltered, staring down into his now-empty mug. "But...But I'm so scared for her," he confessed.

"I know, I know you are, but if there's even a slight problem, we're only a letter away," Voldemort said. "Hell, if she's taking her muggle phone, we're a text away. We can keep in touch so easily, yeah?"

"Yeah…" Quirrell murmured quietly.

"And don't worry about tomorrow," Voldemort continued, "I'm coming with you."

That actually made Quirrell feel even worse. "Are you positive that's the safest idea?"

"No, but I'm still coming. C'mon, you're the genius, right?" Voldemort smiled and raised both his eyebrows. "Time to go back to back again."

XxX

Quirrell had blissfully forgotten how itchy the turban had been. He hadn't had to wear it in years and had obviously never planned to ever again; the only reason he hadn't thrown it out was for the sake of the memories. Sure, the first few months with Voldemort had been hell, but once they'd bonded there'd been no going back. Quirrell had kept the turban at the very back of his closet along with his wizard robes, and now he was wearing both.

Wang Mu was lugging her trunk as they walked through Kings Cross, leaving Quirrell to hold her new tawny owl, who looked a little pissed in his cage. Quirrell knew how that felt.

"Oh my gosh, oh my gosh," Wang Mu was jabbering. "Is that it? Platform 9 and ¾?"

"Yep," Quirrell confirmed as they slowed. A sudden burst of nostalgia hit him and he swallowed, trying not to think of how his mother had comforted him in this exact situation years before. "Don't be nervous. You just have to…"

"To run right at it!" She interrupted gleefully. "Ok, let me do it first, then I'll see you on the other side, right?"

"Right," he said. "Just, be careful and-"

She had already run right through it, not the slightest bit of hesitation. Quirrell blinked. "Oh."

"Told you," said Voldemort's voice in his head. "She's ready."

"Doesn't mean I am," Quirrell murmured aloud. He could've sworn he heard Voldemort chuckle a little at that, and awkwardly straightened his turban with his free hand. "Alright. Let's do this."

"Let's," Voldemort agreed as Quirrell took a deep breath. He sped up, and then all of a sudden they were on the busy, crowded platform. The Hogwarts Express looked just as magnificent as it always had, smoke billowing. Quirrell inhaled shakily.

"Come on, Daddies! We're so late!" He heard Wang Mu call from further ahead.

They really weren't, but she was always so conscientious, wanting everything to be a perfect schedule. "Coming," Quirrell attempted, before he bumped into somebody.

"Oh, hey, sorry!" The man exclaimed.

"No, it-it was my fault," Quirrell said, attempting a smile, which soon froze.

It was Harry Potter. Harry Potter was standing in front of him, with a charming grin on his face. His hair was shorter and he was adorned in a fancy yellow jacket. All Quirrell could hear was the pounding of his heart; he was suddenly gripped with a mixture of fear and anticipation.

"You look pretty familiar," Harry continued, frowning slightly.

"Do I?" he replied weakly.

"Yeah, weird." Harry rubbed his forehead, specifically his lightning scar. "Well, see ya!"

Quirrell waited, rooted to the spot, unable to believe his luck. Had Harry seriously not recognised him? At all? Was it going to be absolutely fine for Wang Mu? He backed away slightly, heading for the bathrooms. Once he was alone he immediately pulled off the turban. "Voldemort! Voldemort! That was Harry Potter!"

"I know, Quirrell," Voldemort sounded fairly amused. "I hear everything you hear."

XxX

Voldemort had been surprisingly cool with the whole Harry Potter thing, which was amazing. They'd both seen Wang Mu get on the train (with only a little bit of crying from Quirrell). She'd waved at them from her window seat eagerly, already in a carriage with nice looking kids, then the train had departed from the platform.

It had all happened way too fast.

"Wow," Quirrell mumbled, back in the bathroom as he pulled off the turban. "I...Wow."

"I know," was all Voldemort said, very quietly. "Hey, c'mon. Let's undo this. I'm going to Disapparate home just now to pick us up some stuff for tonight, ok?"

"Alright." Quirrell didn't argue. The sooner Voldemort left the wizarding platform, the better. He took out his wand, muttering the spell, and soon they were unattached. The process took around two minutes and was fairly uncomfortable to say the least, but it was a relief once it was over. Quirrell rubbed the back of his head, moving it side to side to stretch out his neck.

Voldemort was shaking his legs, presumably to get some life back into them. Quirrell had made sure he'd be dressed in muggle clothes once they'd separated, so Voldemort was now wearing some very nice black jeans and a white shirt. "Did you deliberately pick out my tightest jeans?"

"Maybe," Quirrell replied, giving him a small kiss. "Now, go. Take the turban, and use my wand. I'll brave the walk back to the car."

"You sure, babe?"

"Yeah. It's fine. I mean, if Harry freakin' Potter didn't recognise me, what do I have to worry about?"

Voldemort nodded carefully, twirling Quirrell's wand in his hand. "See you at home."

"See you at home," he confirmed, before Voldemort Disapparated.

He allowed himself a few moments, tugging at the collar of his robes in discomfort. What a whirlwind of emotions in less than two hours. He wondered if he was going to crash and burn completely, but then pushed that idea to the back of his mind. The main thing was that Wang was excited and had got on the train safely with both of her parents present.

He exited the bathroom, hurriedly heading to get out of the platform as fast as possible, only to have a camera flash in his face.

"Quirinus Quirrell, at Platform 9 and ¾!"

"Hey, man, I knew I recognised you!" Harry Potter said, already posing for the paparazzi. "Quirinus Quirrell! You got a kid going to Hogwarts? Me too!"

"What…" Quirrell attempted weakly, already being pulled in for a photo with Harry.

"This'll be front page news, man," Harry told him. "The ex-con and the Boy Who Lived, reunited with their new generations!"

"Oh, no, I really don't want-" Quirrell started, only to be cut off by another camera flash. Voldemort was going to have a field day with this one. "I don't want my picture taken!"

"Oh, just one, it'll be so good!" Harry encouraged, his arm already around Quirrell's shoulders, much to his distaste. "Really, though, who'd have thought? Me, married happily to Ginny with our three kids, you with...whoever…"

"My daughter is called Wang Mu," Quirrell managed through gritted teeth.

"Awesome, awesome," Harry said. "Can't believe you bounced right back from Azkaban like that. Kudos."

"I did not bounce back-" Quirrell started, then decided not to bother. He forced a smile onto his face for the picture, then immediately pulled himself away. "Very nice to see you," he lied. "I'm glad you're so happy, I truly am, and I'm sorry for...A lot of things."

"Oh, hey, I know Voldemort was controlling and threatening you." Harry shrugged, his expression turning stern. "Water under the bridge. I had to move on from all that a long time ago."

Quirrell faltered, then hastily covered his face as the cameras turned on him again. He didn't hang around, and bolted through the wall of the platform.

He had never been so relieved to be back in muggle territory. He hastily tugged off his stupid robes to reveal the simple shirt and jeans underneath, then balled the frustrating fabric up in his fists.

That had been unexpected to say the least.

XxX

"Quiet house," Voldemort commented, placing a comforting hand on the small of Quirrell's back.

"Mm."

"Did you like the wine I got? It's one of your favourites, right? We had it on your birthday a few years ago."

"Yeah," Quirrell murmured. "It was great. Thanks."

Voldemort gently pulled Quirrell into his lap, kissing at his neck. "I know," he breathed. "I'm sad, too. Y'know, I always thought that once she'd left we'd be ripping each other's clothes off and having sex on this couch, but…"

"Yeah," Quirrell repeated. "Not in the mood. At all."

"Neither. We can cuddle, though, how about that?"

"I like that," he said as Voldemort's hold on his tightened. "Thank you."

"No need to thank me," Voldemort huffed a small laugh. "I just really want to cuddle."

They were interrupted by a tapping noise at the window, and Quirrell lifted his head to see Wang's owl with a letter in its beak, waiting patiently. "Oh! It's Sherbet! Hey there, girl," he cooed, moving over to let the owl in. "Is that a letter for us?"

The owl dropped the letter into Quirrell's waiting hand and he eagerly ripped open the envelope, scanning its contents. "Ok, she's all settled into her dorm and she's...She's...Uh." His eyes flickered up to meet Voldemort's. "She's in Gryffindor."

"Get the fuck out," Voldemort laughed. He then abruptly stopped. "You're not serious. Are you? Oh, my God, you're serious."

"We said the Houses don't matter, and they don't!" Quirrell insisted, but then wrinkled his nose. "It's just...Gryffindor."

"Unbelievable," Voldemort murmured, leaning back into the couch. "Eugh. Gryffindor."

"Y'know, who cares, right?" Quirrell said. "The main thing is she's happy. We're not raining on her parade."

"No, definitely," Voldemort agreed. "You're right. Who cares if she's in that stupid House? Let's write her back something nice, about how we miss her already."

Quirrell retrieved his pen and parchment and sat back down. He leant over to write, but then paused. "I just realised something."

"What?"

"I'm gonna have to return that Ravenclaw pin I got her."