Honest to God, it all made him smile. Non-magic AU.

They had drifted into each other's arms like smoothly rolling waves, pulled along by the uncompromising whims of the moon.

In which James is a bit curious, Peter is a bit bored, and Remus and Sirius may or may not be shagging like poncy little rabbits behind their backs.

Son, I must express my pleasure that you seem to be acclimating yourself to the dizzying altitudes of Gryffindor tower, and, dare I say, acquainting yourself with the natives.

“Sirius? Am I in the right place? It’s so dark in this closet—I can’t see anything.” Remus has a bit of a run in. Implied RLSB, RLOG. This fic eats the boundaries and washes them down with a cup of hot, steaming rules.

"Hah! Sirius—Padfoot, guess what I just realized!" "What, Moony?" "You're an S.O.B." ". . ." "No—no—wait, Padfoot, come back!" Remus calls Sirius an S.O.B. Sirius takes it a little too personally.

Auror Draco Malfoy is hit by a mysterious curse, and his health takes a downward spiral.

"'That's not—Christ, Malfoy—you can't just—you're—' 'I'm—mmph.' 'God.' 'You're right, Potter. I am God.'" Sleuthy Hermione, slightly dense Ron, and a little too much sexual innuendo to be healthy.