AN: Yep. There be pairing bashing ahead. But 'tis all in good fun. And I don't mean any of it. But if it's not cannon, and it's wildly popular anyway, it's probably contained in this fic.

But, you don't care. Right? Right.

Happy reading! (pleasepleasepleasereview!)



The corridor is empty until the young man appears. Frowning, he surveys a seemingly blank stretch of wall. With a sigh, he begins to pace up and down. As he does, he mutters, "I need to meet Sirius. I need to meet Sirius. I need…"

He looks up. There, right in front of him, is a door. A door that wasn't in existence mere seconds ago. Remus Lupin smiles.

His hand curls around the brass handle, and he turns his head left then right, searching for any unwelcome guests. There are none. Carefully, he opens the door and steps in.

The sight that greets him is a spectacular one indeed. This room is huge and extravagant, full to the bursting with spine-tingling elegance. Deep red walls inlayed with lustrous gold surround him, and the invitingly large leather couch just waits to be sat on. Mostly, though, Remus is happy because –

"Ah. Sirius."

- it contains just the person he is looking for.

Sirius strides towards Remus, sparkling white smile taking up half his face. When he speaks he flicks his dark, luscious hair away from his soft grey eyes.

"Remus," his voice is low and mellow - as gorgeous as his face. "I've been waiting for you."

A flush creeps slowly over Remus' pale face, extending into his soft brown hair. "I know."

They walk towards each other; arms extended, eyes soft, eyes fluttering…

Their lips are about to touch when, quite suddenly, Sirius is opening his eyes wide and reeling away from the other boy as if shocked by lightning.

"I CAN'T! I JUST CAN'T!" he screams, covering his eyes. "PLEASE! DON'T MAKE ME DO IT!"

Remus looks relieved. Sirius looks like he might possibly be having a heart attack.


"So…" Hermione's voice trails. "What… What do you like to do in your free time, Profe – Sn- Severus?"

Snape turns his head to look at the girl from behind his curtain of greasy black hair. His eyes, glaring over the hook of his nose, are cold and angry. In her seat, Hermione stifles a whimper.

"I'm dead, Miss Granger."

"Yeah," squeaks Hermione, squirming slightly. "But –"

She is silenced by another glare. And the horror that, yes, oh Merlin, a maggot really did just crawl out of his (dead) ear.

The sit in deathly, punny silence.


The sun shines bright upon the green lawns of Hogwarts. All around students bask in the warmth of the beautiful, breathtaking spring day. Today is a Happy Day and Good Things are afoot.

With a bang, the doors to the great hall fly open. A girl of perhaps seventeen is suddenly streaking across the grounds, seemingly intent on some destination. Behind her, silky curls fly like a banner of beauty.

"Harry!" her voice calls as she runs. "Harry!"

A boy with dark, messy hair and green, green eyes turns. When he sees the girl he smiles and begins to run towards her.


(He doesn't even notice that the redheaded male he had been sitting with has suddenly raised his wand, quite a mutinous expression set firmly on his freckled face.)

With arms outstretched, the couple run. Both are beaming with such joy the brightness of the day is put to shame. They are fast approaching now, soon to meet in a clash of wonder, but then…

The moment they should have touched, both are sent flying back. A loud BOOM! Sounds, and every head turns to the spectacle. Silence falls. Harry and Hermione groggily climb to their feet.

"What- What happened?" mutters Harry, swaying slightly.

"I don't – don't know," whispers Hermione, massaging her forehead.

Many miles away, in a monstrous mansion in Scotland, a forty-ish woman looks out her window and watches a ship sink. Her laughter reverberates eerily in the halls.


Fred looks at George.

George looks at Fred.

Both look a little green in the face.

At the same time, they retch.


Ron looks more than a little uneasy as he sits side by side with Loon – Luna – as he sits next to Luna.

Carefully, cautiously, ever so slowly, he picks up her hand. He looks at it for a minute, so small in his own, and swallows visibly. She turns to smile at him, eyes wide and blue and kinda… Ron gently sets her hand back down, looking away and clearing his throat.

"Ron…" Luna's voice is lilting and soft. "Would you come with Daddy and I this summer to finally catch the great Crumble-Horned Snorkack?"

Cautiously, Ron turns. When her smiling face looks at him, he flinches. But he still manages a stiff nod. Luna sighs happily and pushed herself to her feet.

"Oh," she says. "Daddy will be pleased." She twirls around a few times. "Goodbye, Ron."

In her wake, Ron quietly despairs.


"But Master…"


"My master, my lover, I beg of you – "

"No, Bella."

"But, an heir? Surely you must – Surely you – "


"Just one?"


"My Lord…"

"Avadra Kedavra!"


Two young man stand, knee deep in something white and fluffy that could possibly be a cloud. A pinkish light is cast upon the scene, and – could it be? – winged humans fly gaily through the air.

"But, my dear Grindlewald," says the old man with half-moon glasses with a smile, "we are dead now, the mortal past doesn't matter in the least."

Grindlewald starts back incredulously at the older man. He is young, perhaps twenty, and when he speaks his voice is a tad disdainful.

"Albus, you are delusional. This has nothing to do with our…" he casts about for an appropriate word. "Our… Our less than happy past. The simple fact is that there was never any 'sexual tension.' There just wasn't."

Albus shakes his head slightly, still smiling. "My friend, there's no need to deny it. Here, there are no prejudices, no hate. We can be as proud and colorful as we would ever wish." He pauses, and looks Grindlewald over. "Besides, were you not caught up in our broken mortal past, why would you choose, of all the stages of your considerable life, to be the man I knew and loved?"

"Because I, unlike you, prefer a younger, more –" But Grindlewald is looking more defeated with each passing second. Finally, he gives up and simply looks at Albus with a pained expression. Then he mumbles, "Seriously, Albus?"

Albus nods serenely, but not without a bit of pity shining in his electric blue eyes. "I am afraid it is so, my dear friend."

"But – Sexual tension?"

"Yes. Sexual tension."


"NO!" scream two voices as one.

Twin gasps.

"EXCUSE ME?" the apparent uni-voice demands. "You'd be so lucky!"

"She's a Mudblood!" Malfoy points, finally separating his words form the proclaimed Mudblood.

"He's a ferret!" wails Hermione, similarly newly independent.

A third figure shakes its undistinguishable head. "I'm sorry. But you guys are it. Really, it's what the people want…"

Draco scowls and pulls out his wand before pointing it at his chest. "Don't think I won't."

"Yeah," agrees Hermione, wand out and directed at Draco's head. "Don't think we won't."