A/N: Man, I'm glad I'm back…

"What kind of loser would name their kid Albus?"

Quirrell shook his head with a soft chuckle at his husband's disgust as they both read their letter from Wang Mu. "Dumbledore was very popular, Voldemort," he chided. "Wizard God knows why, but there you go…"

Quirrell always loved reading Wang's letters; she wrote with the same frenetic energy in how she talked, and excitement was practically leaping from the page as she described her new best friend. A fellow Gryffindor, whose favourite subject was Defence Against the Dark Arts (boy, didn't that take him back in time), and one of the youngest Quidditch Seekers for his House.

Voldemort wrinkled his nose, muttering under his breath as he leant back against the couch pillows. "Albus. Eugh. I bet he's a total dork."

"We're talking about a thirteen-year-old here," Quirrell said, eyes still focused on their daughter's letter. "Every single thirteen-year-old is a dork."

"Not true," Voldemort immediately challenged. "I was cool."

"No comment," Quirrell said dryly. His eyes lingered over the last few sentences of the letter, and he gnawed at his lip.

I'd really love it if Albus and his parents came over this weekend! They're all cool with it, and it would be so much fun. Please say yes! Papa can drink some Polyjuice potion!

"His parents will be total dorks, too," Voldemort grumbled.

Quirrell wasn't exactly concerned with Albus' parents being dorks. He was, however, concerned about literally everything else. "The logistics of this are going to be tricky," he murmured.

Voldemort turned to him, an eyebrow raised. "What, you want to say yes to this?"

"This is good for Wang. We should meet the parents of her best friend, it's a sweet thing to do, and she clearly wants this." Quirrell tapped at the paper. "She says they're all cool with it. They know I'm Quirinus Quirrell, and they're fine with that. That's always a good start."

"But it's…" Voldemort trailed off with a groan of annoyance. "Making small-talk with wizards is something we've not done in a very, very long time. If sixteen-year-old me heard me say that, jeez. But it's true. We're muggle-domesticated now."

Quirrell huffed a small laugh. "Yeah," he said. "It'll be weird."

"And potentially dangerous," Voldemort said. "Like, I don't want to be that guy, but if I'm discovered –"

"I know," Quirrell interrupted quietly. "Believe me. I know. I'm thinking through every worst case scenario too, but…" he hesitated. "It's what our daughter wants. It'll make her so happy."

Voldemort absent-mindedly placed his hand on the back of Quirrell's head, stroking his dark hair. "Polyjuice potion doesn't last too long," was all he said. "I'd have to time it right. Show up halfway through, or something."

Quirrell melted into his husband's touch with a sigh of relief. "You'll do it?"

"I'll do it," Voldemort said, heart thumping in his chest at the beautiful smile that came his way. No matter what, and no matter how many times he'd seen it over the years, that kind of radiant happiness from Quirrell would always make his heart flutter. "If it's what you both want, then I can hardly say no, can I?"

"Even if they're all total dorks?"

"Even if," Voldemort said, leaning in to give Quirrell a soft kiss. "I mean, I married a total dork, so –" He pulled away with a laugh as Quirrell swatted the back of his head. "Oh, come on, I'm teasing."

Quirrell's eyes were alight with mischief, and before Voldemort could defend himself, he was being tickled mercilessly. He wheezed and kicked out, giggling uselessly as Quirrell's nimble fingers targeted his neck.

"Ah – no – shit! Uncle!" Voldemort choked through his laughter until Quirrell finally relented. "I – I repent! You're – not a dork!"

"Oh, no, I totally am," Quirrell said as he moved to straddle Voldemort, wrapping his arms around his neck. "You're the one who finds it ridiculously attractive, though."

Once he had caught his breath, Voldemort grinned slyly, tilting his head. "Guilty," he said. "I find everything about you ridiculously attractive."

Quirrell brushed his lips against Voldemort's neck. "We'd better write back to Wang," he murmured into his skin. "Tell her we're all for this hang-out."

"This is gonna be weird," Voldemort said. "Really fucking weird. I'd better start brewing some Polyjuice."

An hour later, they had a hastily scrawled reply from Wang Mu in their hands:

Yay! Albus' mum and dad are picking us up from the train station and we'll all come over for 5pm! So excited to see you both, it'll be lots of fun!

Love Wang xxx

XxX

Sat on the edge of his bed, Voldemort contemplated the vial of Polyjuice in his hand. His leg wouldn't stop jiggling, so he abruptly stood to pace around the bedroom. He really didn't know what to make of this whole bizarre affair, and he resented the fact he had to pretend to be someone else for an entire evening in front of his daughter.

"Well, it's your own fault," he grumbled as he caught sight of himself in the mirror. "This is what you get for being so stupid in your youth."

He glowered at his reflection for a moment before taking a proper look in the mirror. He absent-mindedly ran a hand through his hair – it had been a while since he'd properly slicked it back. Maybe he was getting too old for that kind of look, come to think of it. Not that he was old. Was he old?

"Earth to Voldemort."

Quirrell's sudden voice from beside him made Voldemort jump violently. He whirled to face his husband, clutching at his chest.

"Shit! Do not sneak up on me like that. You need to wear a bell around your neck."

"I'd said your name three times!" Quirrell admonished. "You were somewhere else entirely. Are you feeling ok? About…all this?"

Voldemort gave a small shrug. "As ok as I can be," he said. "How about you?"

"The same," Quirrell said, eyes flickering to the vial of potion, still clasped in Voldemort's hand. "Ok. So. You're a muggle called Joe who works in an office."

"What kind of office?"

"Doesn't matter. Nobody cares about office jobs. Literally nobody in the world cares." Quirrell tugged at his lavender tie, loosening it around his neck. "God, I feel like this thing is choking me."

"You look lovely," Voldemort said, gently moving Quirrell's hands. He placed the vial on the nightstand so he could interlace their fingers together, feeling like his husband needed to be grounded. "So," he then prompted, "I work in an office."

Quirrell gave his hands a grateful squeeze as he nodded. "Yeah. That's why you're late to dinner. Some kind of…admin emergency. We met at the park seventeen years ago and it was love at first sight. I was reading Persuasion on a park bench, and that's what persuaded you to come up and introduce yourself to me."

"Fucking hell," Voldemort said with a nervous laugh. "You have…literally thought everything through, haven't you? I mean, I'm not surprised. You were always way better at plans than me."

A ghost of a smile tugged at Quirrell's lips. "It'll be weird tonight. Having you next to me, with a totally different face."

"Can't be any weirder than me being on the back of your head," Voldemort pointed out. "Don't worry, Squirrel, honestly. This'll all be fine. I mean, if this is Wang Mu's best friend, then the parents will be a breeze. She's a great judge of character."

Quirrell hesitantly bit at his lip – God, Voldemort would never not get a twinge of arousal at that – before nodding. Just then, the doorbell trilled, and his hold on Voldemort's hands tightened briefly.

"This is such a terrible idea," Quirrell said, a flicker of panic darting across his face. "Utterly, utterly terrible."

"Too late to back out now, though," Voldemort said. With that, he let go of Quirrell's hands and gave him a gentle push towards the bedroom door. "Go on. Go see our girl."

XxX

Wang Mu barged into Quirrell the moment he'd opened the front door by the slightest crack, wrapping him into a massive hug. He staggered back with a laugh, holding his daughter close. "Hey, baby!" he said. "It's great to –"

The words trailed off in Quirrell's mouth as he glanced up, and his hold on Wang tightened slightly. A curly-haired boy – Albus – was standing in the doorway with a happy little grin, but that's not where Quirrell's focus was. No, his focus was on –

"How's it going, Professor?" Harry Potter held out his palm for a high-five. Ginny stood at his side, with a slightly more nervous disposition than her husband. "Man, who'd have thought, huh? Your kid, my kid, best buds!"

Quirrell's heart stuttered in his chest, mouth opening and closing uselessly as he tried to figure out what to do or say. Was he in an extremely vivid nightmare? Or were the Potters actually making their way into his home, with Voldemort right upstairs –

"Wow!" was the first thing that apparently was going to come out of Quirrell's mouth. "I mean – ha! Yes! Wang Mu, what a – surprise!"

His daughter at least had the decency to look sheepish as she pulled away from him. "Dad, this is Albus," she said with a bright smile, gesturing towards her friend. Albus waved shyly.

"Hi, Mr. Quirrell," the boy said, blinking behind his large owlish glasses. He really was a total mini Harry Potter. For a moment, Quirrell internally berated himself for not connecting the dots sooner. Albus? Who the hell else would name their kid after Dumbledore?

"H-hello," Quirrell attempted, doing his best to keep any shred of composure. "So lovely to meet you, Albus."

Wang beamed, looping her arm through her friend's. "This'll be so fun! I thought it would be really nice to properly reintroduce Mr. and Mrs. Potter to you and Papa!"

"Did you, now?" Quirrell managed through a very forced smile. Damn this cunning child of theirs. She should have been put in Slytherin. Oh, God, what was he going to do about –

"Oh, please, Wang," Harry said. "It's Harry and Ginny, not Mr. and Mrs.! Come on, Professor, don't leave me hanging."

Quirrell realised he was supposed to high-five Potter, and awkwardly did so. "What a surprise!" he repeated uselessly, hoping his voice wasn't actually as high-pitched as it sounded to his ears. The Potters were well and truly settling themselves into the living room, immediately bee-lining for the adorned drinks table. "Um, go ahead and help yourselves to some wine. Or soda. Whatever you like!"

"Thanks," Ginny mumbled as she sat on the couch, keeping a wary eye on Quirrell as if he was going to hex her at any moment. Meanwhile, her husband was happily pouring them both two large glasses of red, apparently fine with this arrangement. "So, you, um…You're living in the muggle world now?"

"Swanky place, Professor!" Harry chimed in, raising his glass. "You really did well for yourself out here, considering everything that happened –"

"It's Quirrell," he said, perhaps a little more fiercely than intended. "Not Professor. Jeez, I've not been your professor for a long time, and it was a very short-lived experience, all things considered, so – Please. Call me Quirrell."

Ginny took a large swig of her wine, clearly attempting to calm her jitters down. "Ok. Quirrell. Cool."

Was Voldemort aware of what was going on? He must've been able to hear all this insanity, right? Quirrell tugged at his tie again, swallowing a few times. "Well, make yourselves comfortable, and – yeah – Wang Mu, would you like to help me in the kitchen for a moment?"

Wang Mu was busy pouring her and Albus some sodas, as if all of this was completely normal. She took a slow sip of her drink, blinking at Quirrell innocently. "Is Papa not home yet?" was all she asked.

"No," Quirrell retorted, narrowing his eyes at her in a very clear warning. "I actually don't think your papa will be able to make it tonight, honey. Really sorry about that, everyone, but he's been held up at the office."

"Oh, but Papa has to come, Dad!" Wang said immediately. "He totally has to. I'm so excited to see him."

Quirrell simply jabbed a finger in the direction of the kitchen. Wang reluctantly handed her glass over to Albus, mumbling something about being right back, before following her dad.

The moment the door closed behind her, Wang Mu threw her hands up in surrender. "Ok, don't be mad," she blurted.

Quirrell's wand was already in his hand – good thing he'd kept it in his pocket, because he was way too wound up to do wandless magic – and he was muttering Muffliato at the door. After a few seconds of deliberate silence, he turned back to his daughter. "Mad?" he echoed.

He didn't even give her a chance to respond before ploughing straight on.

"Why would I be mad, Wang Mu? Oh, you mean because you tricked us into inviting Harry freaking Potter over here, who is currently drinking my Merlot, while your other father is dead to the entire Wizarding World because of our surprise guest, except, oops! He's actually alive and well, and is currently trapped upstairs! Now, tell me, why exactly would I be mad about any of that?"

Wang Mu gnawed at her bottom lip, staring at him beseechingly with her big doe eyes. "Papa can still drink the Polyjuice potion. They don't need to know who he actually is, I just thought – I thought it would be a good thing! So everyone can put it all behind them!"

"It has been behind us!" Quirrell pinched the bridge of his nose, doing his best to remember how to actually inhale like a normal person. God, this kitchen was so bright, it was all so bright and his heart was hammering and his daughter was in so much trouble –

"The real Harry Potter is nothing like your stories from Gilderoy Lockhart, Wang!" he burst. "If you'd wanted an autograph, surely there were easier ways than to befriend his son!"

Wang gasped, immediately shaking her head. "No! It's not like that! I met Albus first, way before I knew he was a Potter. Honestly! I just – I really like him, he's my friend. My best friend. Finding out who his parents were, that was a huge shock to me too!"

Perhaps his comment had been a little uncalled for. Shaking his head, Quirrell did his best to convey his raging thoughts. "I know I joke about Harry Potter and your dad's dumbass decisions," he said through staggered breaths, "but this is actually – very – alarming!"

"Daddy?" Wang asked hesitantly when it became clear his breathing wasn't getting any better. "Daddy, please don't be cross. I wanted to tell you, I did, but I knew then you'd never say yes, and I thought it was a good idea, but ok, maybe it was actually really stupid – Daddy?"

Standing wasn't really helping him right now, so Quirrell slid to the floor, leaning up against the refrigerator with a feeble groan. In an instant, Wang was kneeling in front of him, worry blazing in her eyes.

"Daddy," she repeated. "Are you having an attack? We have – we have Calming Draught, don't we? Papa makes you Calming Draught. Where is it?"

Quirrell blearily yanked at his tie, opting to just take the damn thing off. "It's – it's ok, Wang," he wheezed. "It's ok, baby, I'm ok. I just need a moment. Some – breathing."

"Longer exhales, yeah?" Wang said encouragingly, and his heart swelled with love for his brilliant, empathetic girl, even if he was still furious. "That's what Papa always says. Longer exhales."

"Y-yep," Quirrell said, attempting to do just that. It had been a very long time since he'd had a panic attack, but whenever they snuck up on him they still always left their impact. After a minute or so, his breathing returned to a steadier pace, though the panic still understandably lingered. Still, as long as he wasn't in any danger of passing out, then he'd deal.

"We'll make them leave," Wang said, once she acknowledged Quirrell's breathing was much better. "I'm so sorry, this was stupid. I just – I don't know what I wanted. I wanted you and papa to meet my friend."

Quirrell slowly reached out to cup her face, brushing his thumbs across her cheeks. "I know, Wang," he said softly. "I know. It's ok. They don't – they don't have to leave. You can go upstairs and see your papa, but there's no way he's coming down here. Deal?"

There was a small silence as his daughter considered this. "So…" she began hopefully. "So you're not mad at me anymore?"

"Oh, sweetheart." Quirrell shook his head. "I'm still absolutely seething."

XxX

Wang Mu hesitantly pushed open her parents' bedroom door, hoping the stilted conversation from downstairs hadn't made its way up to their room. This, of course, had been a terrible idea – but one of those ideas that she still hoped was so bad, that it just might work.

"Wait!" she blurted as she saw her papa seconds away from downing a vial of Polyjuice. It felt likes ages since she'd seen him, and she didn't want to be talking to him with a stranger's face. "Don't drink that yet!"

Voldemort jumped, spinning around to face her. "Shit, Wang!" he scolded. "You're just like your dad! You both need to stop sneaking up on –"

Wang threw herself at him in a fierce hug before he could carry on complaining; he nearly spilled the potion from the intensity.

"Whoa, whoa! Happy to see you too, kid."

She pulled back a tiny bit, peering up at him doubtfully. "You're not mad at me?"

"Mad at you?" Voldemort chuckled. "What're you talking about? Are they super boring downstairs, is that it?"

Wang's eyes widened the tiniest fraction, and she glanced back at the bedroom door, finally paying attention to the faint humming noise. "Ohhh…" she breathed as she finally broke the hug. "You muffled the room."

"Duh," was the simple response. "Don't want them to hear me hiding. Kind of ruins the whole performance, doesn't it?"

"You've not heard anything," she said, just to be completely sure. "Like, at all."

Voldemort raised an eyebrow, sitting down on the edge of his bed. "I've been watching TV and psyching myself up," he said. "You just gotta let me know when they make their way to the kitchen so I can sneak down as if I've just arrived. So, go on, then – what're they like?"

The cogs in Wang Mu's brain whirred, as she tried to decide how best to play this. "Oh, they're…they're good."

"Yeah?"

"They'll probably be a little, um…familiar."

Voldemort's brow furrowed, before his eyes widened in alarm. "They're not – Jeez, they're not old Death Eaters, are they? Shit, I knew this was a terrible idea –"

"Papa –"

"Is it Malloy? Or – what was his name – Yaxley? Oh, God!" Voldemort was already pacing frantically, rubbing his face with his free hand. "Are they even alive? I don't even know! Wang, listen, your papa used to be the biggest goddam idiot in the entire world, and I had a lot of idiot friends –"

"I know, Papa –" Wang attempted to get a word in edgeways. "But it's –"

Voldemort stopped in his tracks, turning to face Wang with sudden urgency. "Your dad," he croaked. "Is your dad ok? I need to fix this, I need to –"

"They're not Death Eaters!" Wang Mu raised her voice, hoping to snap him out of it. "It's the Potters!"

There was a very long, very tense silence. Voldemort was looking at her blankly, as if she had suddenly morphed into a three-headed monster. Wang attempted a tiny smile, shuffling her feet. "Yeah, so – so don't worry about Death Eaters, 'cause it's – actually the total opposite!"

More silence.

"Also, um, Death Eaters – that's a really dumb name," she carried on. "Did you come up with it? Or was it more a…a group vote?"

With a slow exhale, Voldemort downed the Polyjuice potion, screwing his face up at the taste. "Your dad must be – absolutely furious," he managed. Wang Mu could only watch helplessly as his skin began to bubble, morphing, changing into somebody else entirely.

"No, no, Papa! You don't need to – I shouldn't have brought them – you can just –"

"Can't even risk hiding with my actual face," Voldemort panted. His platinum hair was rapidly turning a dark brown. "No way. Gotta – hide in plain sight. Can't let your dad do this alone."

"He's not alone," Wang insisted. "I was handling it! And now he's going to be even more mad at me!"

In her papa's place stood a slightly shorter, tanned man with curly brown hair. Obviously, Wang had never taken Polyjuice before, but she knew it wasn't exactly a pleasant feeling. Voldemort took a few moments to get over the clear nausea, shaking his head as he glanced in the mirror.

"Well," he grumbled, "I'm not mad. I'm bewildered, but not mad. You're pals with Potter's boy, is that it?"

Wang nodded hesitantly. "We're best friends. I honestly didn't know who his parents were when we met. He's just so cool and fun and we like all the same things –"

Turning from the mirror, Voldemort cocked an eyebrow. "Except for the part where the Potters annually celebrate the downfall of Lord Voldemort."

"Duh," she said, refusing to rise to the bait. "C'mon, Papa, I've never hung out with Harry and Ginny before. I don't know what they're actually like! They could be totally insufferable, but Albus isn't. He really isn't. When you see him, you'll understand."

"You don't need me to tell you that what you've done is reckless, dangerous, and irresponsible." Voldemort ran a hand through his new hair, pursing his lips at the stranger's reflection in the mirror. "Do you?"

Wang shook her head glumly. "No, Papa," she mumbled into her chest.

"Good. 'Cause you know full well, and in a way –" Voldemort snorted with laughter, turning back to face her. "In a way, I'm actually kinda proud. You cunning little fiend. Why the hell aren't you in Slytherin?"

Blinking at him in surprise, Wang Mu beamed at him, before launching herself in his arms again.

To be continued…

For real this time! To any of my long-time readers who have stuck around, I'm so grateful and so excited to be finally, FINALLY continuing this fic. I really hope you've enjoyed this latest instalment after an extremely long hiatus. I've missed this fandom so much!

To any new readers – welcome! I'm on tumblr rumpleteazergrace (where I have also emerged from a long absence).

Ok I'm gonna go before I start to cry!