Waiting outside the Ministry is turning into a long, bitterly cold affair, and Harry's forgotten his gloves. Luckily, Sirius has a solution. Or rather, Sirius is the solution.

Theo barges his way into the afterlife to demand assistance from the Master of Death. And apparently fall deeply in love with him while he's at it.

This marks the third time in one week that Albus has dragged James to the cinema. He doesn't need to be a detective like his dear old dad to know that something's going on, and he's determined to find out what it is. If only getting Albus to actually talk to him wasn't a lot like pulling teeth.

Kingsley spends a soft, quiet morning defending his breakfast.

The first time Harry visits Andromeda after the very last funeral, she slams the door in his face.

Teddy is exhausted after a long shift at the hospital, but he still comes when Harry calls.

Remus is reluctantly recruited for a mission by a bright-haired witch holding a broken time-turner.

Regulus follows the song all over the world until he finally meets a familiar face.

From the moment Harry joined the Auror Department, fresh out of the war and still flinching at every sudden movement, Kingsley had made it his silent mission to protect him in every possible way. Even if that meant plying him with coffee every day so he wouldn't pass out and make a fool of himself in a meeting.

Harry spends an evening mourning lost shoes, tracking down vanished potatoes, and adoring his kids despite their tendency to drive him absolutely stark raving mad.

No matter which way Remus turns it, the evidence of how they've crumbled is blinding, dizzying. Impossible to ignore.

No matter what kind of siren-song Romilda Vane weaves, it won't be enough to part Ginny and Harry for long.

Poppy takes care of Minerva, despite her insistence that she 'certainly isn't sick, Poppy dear, don't be ridiculous.' It would be much more convincing if she could stop sneezing for long enough to get the words out properly.

Ginny has been Dean Thomas's guide for years now. The more official term is personal knight, or shield, or trained protector. But Dean isn't quite as weak-willed as anyone else that she's protected over the years. He can take care of himself. All she has to do is guide him where he needs to go, and stand back to back with him on the battlefield.

Bill is moving house, and Ginny isn't happy about it. Not even when he chucks an old, grubby pencil case in her face.

Not content with loving one person, Ginny falls in love with her friend and her soul-mark, and pines ridiculously for both of them, despite the very simple solution staring all three of them in the face: talking to each other.

It isn't always a ferry waiting to take you to the other side. Sometimes it's a gleaming train in a mossy forest, and your stupid older brother is waiting for you on the platform.

Fred thinks Teddy is pretty cool, even if he does have some really terrible friends. And if Teddy thinks that smoking is cool, then there's no harm in trying one, right?

Albus should have known better than to underestimate Scorpius's ability to sniff out new projects.

James is the fool with a floppy, de-boned arm, and Regulus is the fool in love with him despite his many whiny, ridiculous qualities.