We are back (again). This will be a two parter! And we've finally got some more of Wang Mu's POV because Teenage Mu deserves her airtime.

The few weeks before summer vacation were always such a drag for Quirrell. They especially were a drag when there was a new sixteen-year-old student who insisted on being the biggest pain in the ass ever.

Granted, Quirrell could acknowledge that moving schools – especially so late in the year – had to be unsettling. Perhaps Ryan was just nervous but didn't know how to show it, and was instead lashing out at anyone who tried to remotely help him. Then again, maybe he was just an asshole. That wasn't out of the realm of possibility.

Quirrell glanced up at the clock, sighing in relief that they had at least fifteen minutes before his first lesson. He and Devin were sitting in the staff room for their much-needed cup of tea before the Monday properly began.

"What do you think of the new kid?" he asked his friend. "You know. Ryan."

"Total jerk," came Devin's immediate grumble. "Why? Is he a jerk to you too, or do I get it worse because I'm a woman?"

"Oh, he's definitely a sexist jerk," Quirrell said, "but I do get a good dose of his homophobia to keep it interesting."

Sipping from her mug, Devin grimaced at his words. "Nooo," she groaned. "What a bundle of joy. No wonder he got kicked out of his last school."

"You know he threw a paper airplane at me last week?" Quirrell said. "First of all, it's really embarrassing being hit with a paper airplane at my age. Second of all, when I unfurled it, he'd written sissy all across it. I've not been called a sissy since I was twenty-three, max."

"Wow." Devin drained the rest of her mug, shaking her head. "This place is going to the dogs, huh? To make things even worse, we need to host those work experience kids all of this week and the next."

Damn, Quirrell had nearly forgotten about that. Every year for two weeks in summer, the school hosted two students from other schools who were hoping to get into teaching. It was a sweet initiative, but in all honesty, Quirrell mainly used the kids to do his paperwork. It wasn't their fault, but they were often useless.

"Ah, it won't be so bad," Quirrell said. "Right now, any kid could walk through that door and I'd prefer their company to Ryan's."

As if on cue, the door to the staffroom swung upon and the principal walked in, two teenagers trailing behind him. Two very familiar teenagers. "What…" was all Quirrell was able to say before Wang Mu and Albus Potter bounded over to him with massive grins on their faces. He blinked in bewilderment at them. "What is happening right now?"

Wang Mu moved to hug Quirrell eagerly, practically bouncing. "We got you! We totally surprised you, huh!"

"Um," Quirrell said weakly, "yes. Very much so, sweetheart."

Wang Mu pulled away from him, beaming. "Hi, Dad! Hi, Devin – I mean, uh, Miss." Wang Mu winked enthusiastically. "I can't wait to learn all about being a teacher. What a fun two weeks we're going to have!"

As Devin squealed and hugged his daughter in delight, Quirrell continued to blink. He then glanced towards the principal. "Uh," he began eloquently. "Not that I'm not delighted to see my daughter and her friend – hi, kids – but why are theyhere?"

"Work experience," the principal deadpanned. "They're from a super fancy boarding school, so it's a great look for us. Maybe they'll be a positive influence on some of our kids."

"We're totally ready to be positive influences," Albus said with an enthusiastic nod. "We can't wait to get started."

Quirrell caught the smirk that passed between Wang Mu and Albus instantly, and shot them a warning look. "That's…wonderful," he eventually said. "But how did you even – How did this get approved?"

"Well, my dad signed my permission slip…" Albus said, pulling a piece of paper from his pocket with dramatic flair. "It's part of our Muggle – Uh, I mean, this is a regular project for regular studies."

"And you obviously signed my permission slip," Wang Mu added breezily. "So Headmaster McGonagall arranged it all with your school, because she knows you're such a good teacher and that we'd be in very safe hands!"

Quirrell's eyes narrowed, but his daughter barely flinched. "Interesting. Well. Perhaps I should call your Headmaster myself, just to make –"

"Oh, c'mon, Quirrell!" Devin exclaimed. "It's all sorted, and they're right here! You should be thrilled your daughter wants to work with you so much. I sure am!"

Thrilled was certainly one way of putting it. Not once in Quirrell's life had Wang Mu ever expressed any interest in teaching, and as far as he was aware, neither had Albus. No, Quirrell knew exactly what their game was; they considered this a fool-proof, easy way to breeze through their Muggle Studies projects.

Just how gullible was McGonagall?

"Well, I leave these kids in your capable hands," the principal continued. "Today's just a half day for them anyway. Show them around, get them familiar with the school. They won't be sitting in on any classes until tomorrow when they've been properly assigned. I assume you'll want Wang Mu in your classes, Quirrell?"

"I never said that," Quirrell deadpanned, only to sigh. "Yes. Ok. And Albus can be with Devin."

Albus beamed. "Awesome! Totally. Where's the library, Miss? I want to try and find some Spiderman comics for my dad."

The principal was already glancing at his watch. "Show these kids the ropes without scaring them too much, alright?" he said, eyes flickering up to Quirrell. "Last thing we need is their fancy school making a complaint about us."

"You've got it," Quirrell said, putting his arms around Wang Mu and Albus' shoulders. "Welcome aboard, kids."

He was going to single-handedly make sure that this work experience was anything but a breeze.

XxX

"I don't know whether to be mad or impressed," Voldemort admitted.

Voldemort and Quirrell sat on the couch, reading over the permission slip that had definitely not been signed by either of them. Wang Mu stood in the middle of the living room, arms behind her back, with a smile that was both triumphant and mischievous.

Quirrell folded his arms, shooting both Voldemort and Wang Mu a stern look. "Mad. The answer is mad."

"Well, yeah, Iguess," said Voldemort. "But if the old bat believed the forgery, that's hardly Wang Mu's fault."

"Thanks, Papa," Wang Mu said sagely. "I didn't even try very hard with it. You can buy these special pens at –"

"Of course it's her fault!" With a scoff of exasperation, Quirrell took the letter from Voldemort's hands,jabbing at it with his finger for emphasis. "You've written yourself a whole recommendation under my name and forged my signature. If I reported this back toHogwarts, you could be suspended."

Wang Mu's eyes widened, the picture of innocence. "And why would you dothat, Daddy dear? This is a win-win for all of us! I get to help you at your job with my best friend –"

"I believe the exact term you and Albus used was'goof off',not help –"

"- I get to spend time at home with you both, and I get a great grade on my Muggle Studies project. This report will single-handedly raise my whole average. On top of that…" she inclined her head. "I'm enhancing my future prospects, both in the muggle and Wizarding world."

"Oh, she's good," Voldemort said in admiration,as Wang Mu gave them a small bow. "You'll be a fantastic politician, kiddo."

"Well, she's not doing her work experience in politics," Quirrell griped, "she is doing it atmy school.And not once have you ever shown any interest in teaching, Wang Mu. I think you're under the impression that this will be a total breeze."

Wang Mu pursed her lips thoughtfully. "There could be a hint of truth to that."

"Teaching is hard. Look at how grey my hair around my temples has become lately. That's purely from the stress of my job."

"Are you sure it's not just the natural progression of age -"

Quirrell jabbed at the paper with his fake signature again fiercely, glaring. "Suspension! You're this close! And if you insist on doing this work experience, then you will be waking up with me at 7AM sharp tomorrow, and your first task will be cleaning my entire classroom."

"Wha -Dad!"Wang Mu groaned in dismay. "That's unfair! I've seen your home-office, you're so messy. I want to learn how to teach, not clean."

Quirrell arched an eyebrow. "Oh yeah? Wonderful. Prove it."

"I will. Honestly. I'm not going to embarrass you at work, I swear." She clasped her hands together, gazing at her parents beseechingly. "I meant everything I said. I want to do well in this project. I want to get to see what you do every day! I know you're a great teacher, but now I'll really, really know!"

Finally, Quirrell's gaze softened, and he sighed. "Alright. Ok. I believe you, sweetheart, I just… Well…Welcome aboard."

Wang Mu clapped her hands in delight before bounding over to kiss his cheek, and then doing the same to her papa. "I love you both!" she sang, already bounding upstairs to her bedroom.

The moment they heard her door close, Quirrell turned to look at Voldemort. "She's up to something."

"You're getting cynical in your old age," Voldemort scoffed, getting himself up from the couch and stretching. "Now, c'mon, it's admin night."

With a groan, Quirrell fell back against the cushions, pressing his palms into his eyes. "Nooo. No. That's not fair."

"We schedule this once a month, and you act like it's some kind of brand new torture method every time."

"Because it feels like it is!" Quirrell protested. "I've been tortured for real, and admin night somehow still feels like the worst thing ever!"

Voldemort's expression softened, and he reached out both hands to his husband. "C'mon. It always feels better when it's done. And think of all the fun we can have afterwards knowing all our bills and taxes are sorted for the month. I'm personally gonna be very excited."

"I know you are," Quirrell said, voice partly muffled from where he'd buried his head in the couch cushions. He half-heartedly lifted his arms up and Voldemort took his hands, gently pulling him onto his feet. "Just…Get me a glass of wine."

XxX

Wang Mu took a deep breath, psyching herself up to go into the kitchen where both her dads were. By the sounds of it, they were at least halfway through their admin duties. Being an adult and having to do taxes sounded totally boring, but hopefully it meant they were also distracted enough to say yes to her request.

Today had been special. Not just because she was hanging out with Albus and having fun, but also because she'd met a boy. A really cute boy, all tall and dark hair and broody. The way he'd borderline smirked at her before introducing himself had made her blush a crimson colour that lasted an hour, a fact that Albus had delighted in.

Ryan was his name. And he was interested in her. Interested enough to ask her to a party. An actual house party, like in those rom-com movies her parents loved to watch. Now all she had to do was get them to say yes.

Wang Mu took a deep breath, rolling her shoulders back and plastering a smile on her face. Show time.

"Hi!" she burst into the kitchen, waltzing over to where her dad was standing at the kitchen counter. Her papa was over at the table with a colour co-ordinated file the size of one of her textbooks, and she'd never seen him look so invested in a bunch of numbers.

"Hello to you, too," Quirrell mumbled, brow furrowed as he stared down at a bill in his hand. His wine glass was empty. That wasn't a good start.

"I, um, wanted to say something about today," Wang Mu began, but she was interrupted by a swish of her papa's wand and his enunciated spell. Within moments, a new bill was in Quirrell's hands.

"Read that and make sense of it, Q," Voldemort said. "You're the brainy one."

Before her dad could totally lose focus, Wang Mu tugged at his sleeve and blurted in one breath: "So I met a kid today and he was really cool and he liked me and Albus and he actually has invited us to his house party on Saturday and I thought I could go and that's all thank you I'll be in my room!"

"Whoa," Voldemort said. "Did you get any of that?"

"Barely a word," Quirrell replied. "Was that a question? Are you asking us something? I don't know if I heard an actual please in that sentence."

"I was asking a question," Wang Mu said, "please."

Quirrell hummed. "So, what exactly is it you're asking?" he said, eyes still fixated on the bill that Voldemort had passed him.

Wang Mu took a deep breath, trying to keep her tone light and breezy. Albus had told her this trick always worked with his parents; the cooler and more mature you seemed, the more likely they were to agree with anything you said.

Then again, Ginny Weasley was a bit of a pushover.

"I'm asking if I can please go to the house party on Saturday night." Wang Mu straightened her shoulders, smiling with what she hoped as an appropriate amount of charm. "Ryan's house party," she added, just in case they hadn't been listening intently to what she'd been saying. "That I've been invited to. Because he thinks I'm cool. The kid is called Ryan and he's really nice. I mean, um, he was really nice to me."

That finally got both of their attention. Quirrell looked up from the bill he was reading with an arched eyebrow. She hated how good he was at doing that; she'd often spend hours practicing in the mirror to do it just like him, because it was always the perfect level of unimpressed, laced with pure power.

From where he was sat at the kitchen table, her papa huffed a dry, humourless laugh. "She wants to go to the house party, Quirrell."

"Mmhm." Quirrell took off his reading glasses, fixing his dark brown eyes on Wang Mu. "Thank you for asking," he said, "but the answer is a resounding no."

Wang Mu's practiced smile abruptly dropped, brow furrowing into a scowl. "Oh, come on!"

"Ryan is one of my student's," Quirrell said. "Not only that, he's a total ass, and I don't trust him one bit. I've told you this already, Mu, he's bad news."

Fair enough, her dad had said that today, before she'd even met Ryan. Still, what did he know?

"Right," Wang Mu said with an eye roll. "Because you never took a chance on a bad boy, right, Dad?"

Voldemort shot her a thumbs up, head still buried in paperwork. "She's got you there, Squirrel. Can't deny the appeal."

Quirrell threw him a withering look, which unfortunately went unnoticed. "Regardless..." A definitive blush was creeping on his face, much to Wang Mu's delight. "It would be breaking all sorts of protocol allowing my teenage daughter to go to my student's party."

"It's not breaking protocol." Wang Mu rolled her eyes. "Not really. It's not like you're going to the party."

"And I'm really torn up over that, as you can see." Quirrell put his glasses back on, before turning his head towards Voldemort, waving the bill. "What am I looking at here?"

Voldemort shot him a helpless shrug. "That's what I'm saying! I've no frickin' idea."

With an exaggerated huff, Wang Mu made her way to the refrigerator to grab herself a soda. She hesitated for a moment, before spinning back around with that perfect smile on her face. "Dearest fathers," she said, saccharinely sweet. "Would either of you like a cup of tea while you labour over household admin?"

"Oh, you're so good to us, with absolutely no ulterior motives," Quirrell deadpanned. "Yes. Make it a strong one, please. Why are we using so much electricity, Voldemort? Are we hosting a light display that I'm unaware of?"

Voldemort rubbed his forehead with a weak groan. "Beats me. I'll have more of the wine, Wang Mu. We'll have to make space in the fridge, seeing as your dad apparently ordered a whole crate of Butterbeer for no damn reason."

"I didn't," Quirrell insisted, arms folded. "I'm positive."

With a flick of his wand and an overly enunciated Accio, the offending and confusing bill was soon back in Voldemort's hands. "Well, I definitely didn't either, so unless one of us is lying or has Butterbeer-infused amnesia…"

Faltering slightly, Quirrell unfolded his arms with a frown on his face. "I'm sure I didn't," he said, walking over to Voldemort's side to take another look. Wang Mu picked up on the uneasiness in his voice, the twinge of doubt. "Unless I – I don't know, maybe I did it back when I was still kinda manic? Is that possible? I've no idea why I'd do that, though. Of all the things to buy –"

Voldemort reached for Quirrell's hand immediately, shaking his head. "No way, babe," he assured him. "It's dated to be delivered this week, see? No chance of that. Sorry, I didn't mean to…Look, it's just some kind of mistake. Neither of us ordered it, so it's an admin issue on their end. No stress. Could be way worse, right? It could've been a crate of Squirt."

Wang Mu stayed silent, getting to work on making the tea. This was…A problem. She certainly didn't want her dad to doubt his own memory, not after he'd literally had a stint in a pysch ward a year ago. Just her luck that they were going through credit card bills on the exact day she'd sneakily ordered a Butterbeer crate to be delivered for the party. But it would be fine, as long as neither of them turned their attention onto…

"Or…" Quirrell said, tone suddenly sharp. "A certain daughter was involved?"

Shit. Busted.

Wang Mu spun around, eyes wide. "Huh?" she attempted, even pointing to herself for good measure. "Me?"

Quirrell set his jaw, staring right into her soul. She did her best not to crumble. "Wang Mu," he said tersely, folding his arms. "I will only ask once. Did you use my credit card to purchase a crate of Butterbeer, and request it to be delivered to this household?"

Voldmort also fixed his eyes on her, a disapproving yet doubtful frown on his face. "You wouldn't do that," he said, and didn't that make her feel ten times worse. "I mean, there's no way you'd do that, right, Wang Mu?"

"Um…" She chewed at her lip, trying to decide the best way to play it. For a moment, the only sound in the kitchen was the tapping of Quirrell's foot, as he waited. "Well…"

"Oh my Wizard God." Voldemort abruptly stood from his chair, flinging his arms up in exasperation. "Wang Mu! What the hell?"

"Well, it was for the house party!" she protested. "I thought you'd be cool and let me go! So I wanted to take some Butterbeer, the muggles don't need to know where it's from, I just thought it would make a good impression, and – I was going to pay you back!"

Quirrell shook his head, arms still tightly folded across his chest. "Unbelievable," he said. "We will be calling them up to cancel and get a full refund."

"Oh, well, let's not be too hasty," Voldemort added. "I mean, it's a good drink. We both like Butterbeer. But you, Wang Mu, have completely revoked your right to have any. You're in big trouble. For starters –"

"I would like to use my Azkaban card, please," Wang Mu blurted before he could go into any detail about her punishment. "Remember how you lied to me, and then I found out from Harry Potter and –"

"Nu-uh," Voldemort said immediately. "You used that card earlier this month when you wanted to stay up 'til one in the morning playing on that damn console. It's a once a month policy."

Quirrell frowned. "Also, I'm really not loving how freely you're using that on such trivial matters," he had to say. "And it's certainly not a get out of jail free card – if you'll excuse the pun – for when you've actively done something wrong. I'm extremely disappointed in you, Wang Mu."

Ouch. Wang Mu shifted guiltily from foot to foot. All words seemed to leave her brain; she opened and closed her mouth like a useless fish for a moment, unable to meet either of their eyes.

"Go to your room, please," Quirrell said quietly. "You've got a full day tomorrow, so you'd best get ready for bed."

"I…" Wang Mu faltered. "I'm sorry, Dad. Papa. I was going to pay you back, honest. I just really, really want to go to this party. I've never been to a proper, teenage party. I know I don't have any grounds to ask again right now, but –"

Voldemort shook his head. "No. You don't. You've heard your dad, go to your room."

"But…" Wang Mu attempted, only to snap her mouth shut at her papa's warning glare. "Fine! Whatever! Fine!" She turned on her heel, stomping out of the kitchen, to continue stomping with extra vigour up the stairs to her bedroom. She contemplated slamming the door behind her, and then decided it would be too cliché, though she did close it slightly harder than usual.

"Albuuuus!" She whined immediately into her phone the moment her friend answered. "They won't let me go! Are your parents letting you go?"

Albus hissed in sympathy on the other end of the line. Wang Mu could imagine him sprawled on his bed, Quidditch posters plastered across every wall, Gryffindor memorabilia scattered on every surface in his bedroom. There was the familiar, distinct sound of him fiddling with his glasses. "Um…Yes. They are. Sorry."

"I knew it." Wang Mu fell on top of her bed with a groan. "Dad and Papa found out about the Butterbeer. You told me they wouldn't!"

"Uh…" The sound of shuffling. "I mean, I just assumed it would be chill. Last time I did that trick and my dad found out, he high-fived me."

Wang Mu groaned again, rolling onto her back as she stared aimlessly at the ceiling. "Your parents are so cool like that. Mine are so…"

"Yours are pretty cool," Albus said. "I mean, now they're not evil and everything. Work experience with Mr. Quirrell is going to be fun. Are you sure they won't let you go? This could really boost our popularity."

"We don't need any help with popularity," Wang Mu pointed out. "We're both notorious, thanks to our parents." As if on cue, there was the sudden sound of footsteps outside her bedroom door. "I gotta go. I'm so, so grounded, Albus. Please wish me luck –"

A knock on her bedroom door. Wang Mu swallowed, quickly hanging up the phone – Albus was still jabbering about the party in her ear as she did so – and shoving it under her pillow. "Come in."

Voldemort opened the door, lingering in the hallway for a moment as he observed her. She found herself avoiding his gaze, rolling over onto her stomach and hiding into her pillow. This was not going to be fun.

There was a sigh, and then Voldemort made his way into her room, gently closing the door behind him. "Listen, kid," he said. "Being fifteen sucks. Trust me, I get it."

Wang Mu grumbled into her pillow. God, her papa trying to relate to her on a teenage level was as big a train wreck as it could get.

"And you're probably thinking, well, you started out as a tyrannical dictator in your teens, what could we possibly have in common - am I right?"

"You're so right," she conceded, lifting her head from her pillow to give him a nod. "Don't tell me you're using your famed Legilmency on me."

"My…How'd you know about that?" Voldemort sat on the edge of her bed with a frown. "That's not something I've ever bragged about, is it? It shouldn't be."

"We were learning about it in school. How did you get so good at it, by the way? 'Cause it's a skill I'd absolutely love to have –"

Voldemort lifted a hand to stop her rambling with a roll his eyes. "Absolutely not. I've not used that shit since your dad and I left the Azkaban island and moved to muggle territory. Legilmency is invasive and cruel and stupid. You're not any of those things, Wang Mu. Looking into people's heads is a waste of time, when you could just talk about things. So, can we please talk about why you thought it was a good idea to rob your own parents?"

Wang Mu's head dropped back into her pillow, though she rotated herself so that she was now staring at her ceiling. "You're being so annoyingly smug, Papa."

"Nuh-uh," came the response. "I'm just being a really good, self-aware father right now."

"I didn't rob you."

"You used your dad's credit card," Voldemort deadpanned. "Your dad works incredibly hard so that you can have nice things. You know what really sucks, Mu? If you wanted Butterbeer for your friends so badly, you could've just asked us."

Wang Mu threw her arms up in frustration. "Right! 'Cause you were sooo cool about me going to a party."

"You would literally be allowed to go to any other party," Voldemort said. "But your dad's right, this one's weird and inappropriate. You're on work experience, this kid's older than you -"

"By two years!"

"- and he's also a jerk and a bully. Why would you want to hang out with someone like that?"

Wang Mu's eyes were beginning to sting. She blinked fiercely, trying to keep her voice steady. "You don't even know him."

With a sigh, Voldemort stood from the foot of her bed. "Ok, kid. I'll let you think on things for a while. When you're ready to talk to us without the dramatics, you know where we are."

Wang Mu covered her eyes with her hands, gritting her teeth. "I'm sorry about the credit card. I'm really, really sorry." And then, even though it humiliated her to her core to be such a snitch, she found herself blurting: "But it was Albus' idea."

"Oh, was it now." Voldemort huffed a humourless laugh, folding his arms. "Figures. I told you hanging out with the Potter family would lead you astray. You don't have to do everything your friend says, Wang Mu -"

"I know, I know, I get it, now can you please leave me alone?" Her voice rose into a yell, and then she grabbed her pillow to shove over her face.

She waited in silence for a few moments, breathing muffled as she sniffed back her tears. It was hard to hear under the safe haven of cotton and feathers, but she could just about make out the sound of footsteps, and then the pillow was being gently pulled from her grasp so that her eyes met her dad's big brown ones.

"Hello," Quirrell said mildly. "Mind if I sit with you for a moment?"

"It's your turn to tell me off?"

"Yeah," Quirrell said. "Your papa decided that I could have a go now. Lucky me, huh?"

"So which one is the good cop, and which one is the bad?"

Quirrell considered the question. "Honestly, I'm not sure. I think we're both somewhere in the middle trying our best here."
Wang Mu pushed herself up into a sitting position, scrubbing at her eyes. She knew it was up to her to say something, anything, but all the words seemed to have left her brain. Her dad looked tired. Disappointed. She never wanted him to look like that, especially not at her.

"Daddy?" she eventually managed.

Quirrell sat at the foot of her bed, shooting her a small, genuine smile. "Yeah, baby?"

She bowed her head, tears stinging the corners of her eyes again. "I'm sorry."

"I know," her dad said with a sigh. "I know you are. You've been through a lot this past year, and I suppose I was naïve to think…I don't know, that there wouldn't be instances like this. Could be worse, I guess. You could be taking drugs behind our backs." At that, his eyes narrowed suspiciously. "You're not taking drugs, are you, Wang Mu?"

"No, Daddy. I'm not taking drugs."

Quirrell sighed again, rubbing his forehead. "Ok. Ok, good. I'm sorry too, that we've upset you. I didn't realise just how badly you wanted to go to this party. You, uh…" he cleared his throat. "You have a crush on Ryan, huh?"

"I'm not talking to you about crushes," Wang Mu said immediately. "Gross."

"That's not gross!" Quirrell protested. "It's totally normal, and nice. Crushes are a natural part of life and being a teenager -"

"Dad, please -"

"And sometimes we do crazy things to impress our crushes, right? Like, uh, going along with certain schemes. Bad schemes -"

"You cannot seriously be comparing a crate of Butterbeer to a taking over the world plot."

"I am in no way comparing those things -" Quirrell broke off with a frown, shaking his head. He looked suddenly even more exhausted. "Wang Mu, you're not going to that party. I'm sorry; I truly did not mean to upset you. I will, however, offer an alternative."

That got Wang Mu's attention. "Yeah? What kind of alternative?"

Her dad was smart. Famously smart. There was a good chance this wasn't an alternative at all, but rather a lesser of two evils disguised as one.

"Well, first of all, I worked out the costs and you're forgoing the right to any pocket money for two months," Quirrell said. "That makes us even on the Butterbeer front."

Wang Mu couldn't protest that too much, even though her heart sank at the prospect. "Fair enough," she mumbled. At least she had some pocket money already saved up.

"But, if you really do want to hang out with Ryan…" Quirrell wrinkled his nose, before sighing and persevering. "If that's what you want, then perhaps you could suggest meeting him outside of school for a soda or whatever. In a more…appropriate environment."

Wang Mu's jaw dropped. "I can't ask Ryan out on a date!" she squawked in horror. "He needs to ask me out! If I even wanted to – which I don't – I mean, I do, but – You'd let me go on a date with Ryan, but not to a party?"

"Yes," Quirrell said. "I guess I would. A whole lot of nonsense can happen at parties. When I went to Nearly Headless Nick's – Anyway. You are more than welcome to go and get a soda with whomever you choose after school, providing you are back home by 5PM sharp."

A 5PM curfew was even worse than having no pocket money. Wang Mu groaned for what must've been the sixtieth time that evening, letting herself drop back into her pillow.

"Wonderful," Quirrell said. "Well, goodnight, Wang Mu. I'm sure you're looking forward to a busy day of work experience tomorrow. 7AM sharp, remember."

With that, her dad got up from the bed, and her light was switched off with a click of his fingers, even though she wasn't anywhere near ready to sleep. Wang Mu scowled up at the ceiling for a while, before ultimately having to hoist herself out of bed and switch her light back on.

Parents really could be such jerks sometimes.