It starts, as it so often does, as a harmless prank, but it rapidly takes on a life of its own.

Arthur and Eames sabotage each other's jobs-- until they can't anymore. Or: How Arthur and Eames Learned to Stop Worrying and Make Their Own Form of Social Capital.

"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."

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.

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

Algernon sicked up under my bed. Moony and I discussed what we could do with it during breakfast, but by the time I’d run up to preserve it after lunch, the house-elves had already got to it. Another wasted opportunity.

Beneath his bed were the socks that time had forgotten, a pair of briefs which he deemed fitting victim for his rage, and were quickly reduced to scraps of unrecognizable fabric, and a few stray dust bunnies that had eluded the house elves. He stayed there for some time, amusing himself by creating scenarios in which when he finally emerged, the world outside had ceased to exist, everyone had had their minds erased, or Sirius Black and James Potter had grown immense bunny ears on their arses and everyone forgot about the underwear's damming songs in their amusement.

Bypassing his teacup altogether, the spoon also avoided Snape’s mouth, the only other positive location one might stick a spoon, and continued up to affix itself to Snape’s nose.

"Yeah! Him! Yeah, the kid, with the--" That same vague wave. "--magic...shit. Anyway, dude! So there're these people, right, on the internet, and they like--write shit. I mean, as in." He leans forward a bit, lowers his voice, "Erotic shit." A dramatic pause. "About the kid."

Remus isn't a very good story teller, but there are things Harry wants to be told. Then again, there are some things Remus can never say, things that burn to think about. Betrayals and other things he keeps to himself. Secrets from when it all fell apart.

Growing up is hard to do, especially in the shadow of your father’s reputation. Scorpius Malfoy has a tough time keeping his resolution to be the best Slytherin he can be when schoolboy games, unicorns, incompetent friends and a beloved enemy all conspire to teach him something different – and rather wonderful – about himself.

Veronica and Logan prank each other. Really, it's shameless the way they flirt.

Fred was born first. This, he claims, has given him innumerable advantages over his twelve-minutes-younger brother: he is ever so slightly taller, handsomer, smarter, wittier, and generally more popular than poor George. George concedes sadly that this is indeed the case, then transfigures Fred's ears into cauliflowers.

Three days before they're due to start shooting series four, Colin Morgan comes out on Friday Night With Jonathan Ross.