Harvey wishes he could attribute it all to his Slytherin cunning, but the truth is, it's mostly a combination of Ross's family heritage, coincidence, and pure luck that leads to their first meeting on the Hogwarts Express. (Or, Mike is a Veela, and Harvey defends him from his adoring masses.)

Sirius writes a book review, after a fashion.

Teddy Lupin's DADA essay on the subject of werewolves and how you identify and kill them.

If it's Remus and Sirius, then somehow it's okay.

How it happened, from beginning to end, from the man who started it all.

Harry Potter is an Unspeakable. Draco Malfoy is the wizard who shagged him. Adventure! Intrigue! Secret identities, celebrities, spies! It's all right here, folks.

Five things Albus Dumbledore could not bring himself to say to Gellert Grindelwald. (One of them is a lie.)

While Draco holds Rosmerta under a spell, there is more to her relationship with another Malfoy than meets the eye.

Draco has convinced the Auror department to test his new messaging charm for secure communications. Harry really would have preferred that he not find out through messages like, 'Yeah, tonight you're going to beg me for it,' that the system wasn't as secure as they thought.

The owner of the elite BDSM club M. had not gained his reputation as the most coveted Dominant on the scene by taking on just any riff-raff submissive who asked. It would take an unexpected letter to convince him to accept a new client, but it might turn out to be the biggest mistake he ever made.

He tells himself he’s healing because it sounds healthy and well-adjusted and like him, and James has stopped showing up to contradict him.

In a house in Godric's Hollow, three boys toss their magic around and a little girl dies…unless.

Dueling shouldn't be humorous - particularly when the other person involved in the duel is a dark wizard. A pitched battle, involving several dark wizards ambushing just a few members of the Order should be even less so. And John believes that, up until he sees Sherlock and Sirius fighting at the same time.

As it turns out they never stop competing.

"Come on," John said, "You can't tell me no one's ever thought to try that."

“Get up, John,” Sherlock says, in a tone that has John jerking upright in bed, immediately, and grappling for his gun in his bedside drawer, even as he says, “Sherlock, what is it?”

Incomprehensibly, Sherlock simply says, “Voldemort.”

Draco owns a café in the city. Harry's a MP who comes in every morning, newspapers in one hand, BlackBerry in the other, and orders a triple espresso macchiato.

"You've always been obsessed with Malfoy, Harry. That should probably tell you something."

"I do believe the two of you were in the same year as boys, were you not?" Headmaster Shaw said. "Charles is the most competent deputy any headmaster could ask for, Erik, and he's been doing this for years…" He trailed off, as if finally noticing something odd in the way his Potions and Divination masters were staring at each other.

"Of course," Charles said quickly, his voice only a little hoarse, and stuck out his hand. "Welcome back to Hogwarts, Erik."

When Harry starts to have erotic dreams about his godfather, he questions his sexual preference. The real issue turns out to be even more complicated and disruptive. Then there's Draco.

It's terribly bad form, sleeping with your ex when you're still half in love with the bastard.

The affair starts on a Thursday.

In the course of Harry's job, numerous reports and files come across his desk. He's never adapted to the paperwork in this job and delegates to his secretary as much as possible, but some things have to be reviewed and signed by him personally.

So, one Wednesday, he gets a form requesting permission for a former known Death Eater to leave the country for a holiday.

He lights a cigarette across the pub, his hand cupped to his mouth as the tip sparks to life in a faint orange flare, and my breath catches.

It was always the same excuse.

Harry wished he didn't respond to Malfoy this way, wished his self-control wasn't reduced to nothing the second Malfoy touched him.

Harry returns from vacation with an unfortunate case of vampirism and must learn to cope with blood, Malfoy, and recalcitrant secretaries. And if that doesn't tell you everything about the plot you need to know, you haven't read enough badfic.

This is what you get for being the only son of forgotten Bavarian royalty, the last vestige of an ancient, magical line, left to rot amongst some pretty skirts and terrible attempts at intelligent conversation.

Harry Potter has only ever had two goals in life: to defeat Voldemort and to bring his followers to justice. One, he's done. The other is in progress. It should be simple, except there's one former Death Eater who doesn't meet the right criteria.

NEED-

-e.l. icicles
-explo. snowb. globes (legal???)
-tenenbaum treacle
-HONEYDUKES, raid at
-Carol Card f/Mum
-tree? appro. trimmings? garland???
-green
-lights (candles, pixies, fire, etc.)
-exploding things in gen.

and also

-hairclips (sparkly kind, green, f/LE)

In which Sirius Black knows more than he ever wanted to.

James tried to find the words, but nothing came. How in the hell are you supposed to explain to a drunk girl that garden gnomes aren't pets?

Infallible? Me? Come on. He had to be kidding. Only someone clearly off their rocker would put the likes of me up on a pedestal.

Repeat after me, Mr. Black: I do believe in commas. I do, I do.

It's always the same two words that start it. "Nicked it," James says, a lazy smile tugging at his lips.

PPS: If you're not making this up, then how do you know these things?!

2010: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows is released, a film based on the novel of the same name. The Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences experiment with having the Academy Awards (or "Oscars") decided by popular vote. Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows sweeps the field, winning a record 19 Oscars.

In which Sirius is possibly naked, and Remus' mind is not the safest place to be.

Have the guilt and horror caught up with you? I daresay that Malfoy might be slightly displeased to know where his little Cissy-darling was last night and who she was with.

"The bad news is that I think I might have fallen ridiculously, head-over-heels, Prongs-for-Lily, nauseatingly in love with you. The worse news is that it took Marlene McKinnon's lips to tell me that."

It is twenty-five years since I first saw you. Your ill health, Albus Dumbledore.

He glanced up and caught Albus's eye. Albus made no attempt at occluding his thoughts, and merely visualized his tea service in careful and complete detail. The corner of Gellert's mouth twitched.

He raised the Elder Wand up to touch his temple. Carefully, with a sobriety usually reserved for death and its cousins, he drew out a long string of silvery, wispy memories and deposited them just as carefully into the stone basin. Phineas Nigellus narrowed his eyes, trying to see what now swirled in the ancient basin. It was no use; all he could make out was a flash of golden curls and a wide, confident smile.

One brother: the one you love above all others. Two brothers: the ones you can never choose between.

"Being an unspeakable does not make me immoral. My only sin is love, and I haven't forced it on anyone. As you well know."

He held the drill up to Draco’s forehead, and then pressed until it bit into flesh.

"We've just found out that the greatest wizard in history is a gigantic bum-burglar. And he's a tart. He came on to us."

We’re secondary characters in a children’s fantasy series. Remus doesn’t like the name but we’re calling this little group PISSA. Means Popular and Ill-treated Slash Ships Anonymous.

Remus was really astoundingly drunk. Impressively, astonishingly drunk, with a side of bastard to go with the mix. He'd gotten himself tossed out of the bar approximately half an hour prior and he'd set himself at walking toward his flat immediately thereafter.

Remus meets Sirius on the Hogwarts Express when Sirius' piano falls on his foot.

Sirius kept forgetting to charge his meter. And so, with London melting through the windowpanes of his modest flat, he and Remus were resigned to drinking the beer before it went warm, and feeling summer seep in through the walls.

James wasn't stupid, and he was mostly quick. Four weeks, he'd counted. It'd taken him four weeks total to realize what exactly had happened and manage not to yell, "You bloody tart!" at Sirius.

It wasn't always like that. Because when Dumbledore had paused before the cluster of four boys--and they were still boys, Sirius knew now--on their last day at Hogwarts, and told them that they were bound for extraordinary things, he'd been right.

After the eventful Christmas in Harry Potter's fifth year at Hogwarts, his godfather gave him a badly wrapped package. Inside was something Harry could use it to get in contact should the need arise, Sirius said. Harry resolved never to use whatever it was -- he would not put Sirius in danger. When later that year Harry was shown Sirius in terrible danger, he did not think of using Sirius's last-minute gift. Hermione, however, did. This is the story of what happened after that.

She still carries a slight limp from the war, which makes it harder to get around Hogwarts. She spends most of her time in her office, marking student work and enjoying the occasional tea with Hooch. Sometimes someone sweeps past her office and she thinks she sees Severus, but there has been no sign of his ghost around the castle. She is sure that he, of anyone, would have gone gladly to death.

She never noticed all the empty spaces in her life until they started to fill up with memories.

Her first kiss occurs when she is fourteen with Lucius Malfoy, outside the broom cupboard near the dungeons, after Potions. He had been escorting her to Defense for no significant reason except that it was a good and beneficial decorum for a Malfoy and a Black to be seen together. "The Malfoys are a respectable people, Andromeda," said Mother once, clean and polished fingers holding a wine glass to her mouth. 'The Blacks are a respectable people, too. Do you understand?'

Walden Macnair lounged against the back wall, polishing his wand with a fold of his sleeve and looking rather bored. And sprawled on the floor at Macnair's feet, looking as if he'd been run over by the Hogwarts Express, was Sirius Black.

If Regulus hadn't snitched, he should be fine, whether they were in or not. He could not, of course, tell from across the square. For all he really knew, the house had burned to a cinder while he was in Azkaban. No one would have told him if it had. Keeping prisoners informed about family gossip wasn't a top priority.

George returns to 93 Diagon Alley for the first time since the Battle of Hogwarts.

It is jarring, then, to find a woman lying in a pool of red in the upstairs bathtub. Disturbing, to see the blood protection of the Boy-Who-Lived slowly and very literally drip down the bathroom drain.

Regulus comes to terms with his brother, his family, his Lord, and himself.

James' middle name is Alexander.

He doesn’t think of her in clichés.

"I had a chance for a proper Christmas. I wasn't slapped or called names, and no one insulted my friends." He pulled a another cigarette from this pocket and lit it with the first. "I wasn't sent to bed without supper because I'm not of a mind to kill Muggles."

The Inferi are the worst when it's someone they once knew.

It is defined as "possessing lemur-like qualities." Like Moony. He possesses lemur-like qualities; thus, he is lemury.

It had started as a game between James, Sirius, Peter, and Remus – their own secret dueling club – and they met whenever they could. But they had been discovered by the Slytherin Prefect, Nicolas Gradenko, a not-entirely-unreasonable bloke who admitted that he knew of a small group of Slytherins who met for the same purpose. But instead of the Slytherin reporting the friends, a series of negotiations between the two Prefects, Remus and Nicolas, had begun – against the advice of James and certainly the approval of Sirius. In spite of their suspicion, before long there was a small group of students from all four houses meeting at the top of the Astronomy Tower.

Her lips press against his cheek, warm and smooth and all the things that lips are supposed to be, and in that moment, Remus knows that he’s fucked.

Remus Lupin wrote an essay about Quidditch and sex in his seventh year. Are you brave enough to read it? You'll never see the Snitch the same way again.

He still isn’t sure how they got here, sticky and feverish, Lily pressed against the trunk of an old oak tree, his big hands tangled in her hair. It’s two days before end of term and the hottest day of the year.

Neville knew something was not quite right with him. Other wizards his age awaited racing brooms. He awaited his mother’s gum wrappers.

However, Lily's circumstances this particular morning were not that of a normal day. No, for as a direct result of the rather grueling Quidditch match that had taken place the day before, Lily Evans had suddenly acquired herself a nice case of self-inflicted laryngitis.

"Potter," Lily blurted out desperately, catching sight of him in the corner with his friends. "It was Potter, and it was before we went out."

"Self-love, my liege, is not so vile a sin as self-neglecting."

It is a full moon on the night of October thirty-first, nineteen eighty-one, and therefore Remus has the best Halloween costume in most of England.

James Potter était assis à son bureau et corrigeait des copies. Lorsqu’il arriva à « Lily Evans », il sourit de toutes ses dents, sourire de séducteur qui lui avait permis de tomber tant de filles jusque là et, ne prenant même pas la peine de lire la copie, il y plaça un gros « D » à l’encre rouge (il ne s’en servait que pour les Serpentard). Cette rouquine l’énervait au plus haut point. Voilà un mois qu’elle jouait la Miss je sais tout dans son cours. Si elle croyait se le mettre dans la poche de cette manière là, elle se fourrait le doigt dans l’œil madame la préfète.

"As if you had no choice? There's a moment, there's always a moment, 'I can do this, I can give into this, or I can resist it', and I don't know when your moment was, but I bet you there was one."

Lily, too caught up in her musings of James' room, had not noticed James at all. When Lily finally did look his way she was stunned with how heavily the attraction hit her. She began to wonder what it would be like to kiss him again. That was when the mantra started running through her head: "He's your professor..."

James was pink from head to toe, and from what Remus could see, it was the same exact color all over--not like a sunburn with varying shades, but a solid stomach-medicine hue, vaguely nauseating in and of itself. It had to be Charmwork. Advanced Charmwork from the looks of it--magic that no regular first year ought to have known. Which narrowed the field to James--who was predisposed to magic; Sirius--who was predisposed to mischief; Remus--who was predisposed to reading; or Snape.

Another uninnocent, elegant fall into the unmagnificent lives of adults.

"Oh MERLIN. STOP WRIGGLING OR I'LL HEX YOU! This is a rule. There is a KNICKERS RULE!"