Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling. I make no claims to ownership.

No matter what her cousins, brother, and even parents hinted, Ivy Nott did not have romantic feelings for James Potter. She knew too well what sort of danger lay within James, just waiting for an opportunity to be released. Thus far, he was able to contain it, but soon he would lose all such sense of control. The obsidian amulet could do only so much in holding back the dakness.

"You're certain?" Ivy said quietly, her gaze lifting from the torn page in her hands to the younger girl in front of her.

Lily pulled her bottom lip between her teeth. At one point, Ivy thought James and Lily shared the same mouth shape, but she'd never seen Lily with a wolfish, predatory grin like the one James possessed.

It was strange how little Lily looked like James. He and Al could be identified as brothers through their thin faces and the infamous Potter mess affectionately called hair. Lily had also inherited unruly hair, though it appeared more windswept than wild, and just as bad of vision as her brothers, but the similarities ended there.

Ivy shook her head. She didn't know why she was even thinking of such things. I do not like James, she reminded herself. She couldn't allow herself to feel anything deeper than friendship with him. It would hurt too much.

"I'm not sure," Lily admitted, startling Ivy out of her introspection. "It's not like I can ask Jamie, either. He would throw a shit-show and never let us do it." Her expression hardened, the green flecks in her hazel eyes appearing brighter for a moment. "Not that I'd let him stop me, if it really does work."

Don't let the name fool you, James had said in their fourth year, shortly after Lily was sorted into Gryffindor. You might think Lily Luna is cute and innocent, but she's fierce as anything.

Ivy glanced back down at the page. It might as well have been in Gobbledygook to her; although she had picked up a few Parseltongue words, she couldn't read the language. She would have to trust Lily's translation.

"The problem is we can't know if it would work," she murmured, even as she weighed the idea in her mind.

Lily folded her arms across her chest. "Look at it this way: we're either guaranteed to lose James, or there's a miniscule chance of saving him. Which would you choose?"

There was no doubt in Ivy's mind how she would answer.

"Save him, of course," she said with barely a pause. "But Lily, you're only thirteen –"

"Fourteen," said Lily. "I'll be fourteen in two weeks. And if Regulus can be a Knight, why can't I do this?"

Ivy took in a deep breath as her hands tightened on the page. She could point out so many flaws in Lily's logic – that Regulus was a Black; that she wouldn't let her own brother do this; that Lily didn't understand all of the risks – but she knew none of them would be heard. Instead, she exhaled and nodded slowly. The words seemed to be dragged out of her, mostly because she was imagining James' fury once he found out what they were planning.

"Alright. I'll help you."

Lily's face suddenly transformed as she beamed. "See, this is why I think you'd make a good sister-in-law," she said brightly, and Ivy wanted to groan.

Oh, bloody hell. Not another one.

~FoD~

Ginny picked up the pamphlet Hermione had given her. She didn't think Harry had Attachment Disorder, at least not in its entirety, but certain elements fit his character well. His problems forming relationships had carried on into adulthood; that could easily be seen in his treatment of James.

Hypocrite, her mind whispered. You abandoned James, too.

But I'm trying to make up for it, she told it sternly.

With a sigh, Ginny set the pamphlet down again and looked at the divorce papers. These had not been Hermione's idea. Hermione, like the wizarding public, would decry it if Ginny were to divorce Harry. Ron probably would, too, although Ginny didn't know how the rest of her family would react.

A familiar whooshing sound alerted her to Harry arriving through the Floo.

"Gin?" he called moments later.

A lump formed in her throat. Carefully, she put the papers back in their folder and hid the folder among others in her filing cabinet. She knew it would never happen. Her life was sealed to Harry's own, and her happiness with it.

"Gin, are you home?" Harry called again.

She felt her mouth twist into a sour expression. Over the years, she had come to deplore that nickname, which he had picked up from the Cursed Child. Harry had found it endearing; Ginny had found it repulsive. Gin was a liquor used for short-term happiness. She didn't like those implications.

"In the office, dear," she responded at last.

It didn't take long for him to appear in the doorway. Torn between wanting to scrutinize him and wanting to hide from his gaze, she averted her own eyes from him.

"Something wrong?" he questioned.

Ginny still didn't look at him. She found that there was no way to say this easily. No amount of reflecting could prepare her for this conversation.

"Do you love me, Harry?" she asked softly, the words feeling like lead as they fell from her mouth.

Through her eyelashes, she saw his eyes widen.

"What do you mean? Of course I do!" he said, his voice raised the same way James' did as a child.

A strange desire to laugh bubbled up inside her, but she clamped her lips against it. James had grown to be a far better liar than Harry. She held her hands together in her lap, her heart feeling like it was shrinking.

"I don't see how you can," she murmured. "I don't even like myself." She let out a breath. "Fourteen-year-old Ginny was so fierce and independent. She'd be disappointed in me right now."

"Gin –"

"I let this happen by being too passive," she continued over him. "Now we've lost our son, and we're about to lose Al and Lily, too. They've both chosen not to come home for Christmas."

Harry looked down and didn't answer. Her chest fluttered with some strange sensation that she couldn't identify.

"We're going to make this work, Harry," she said in as steady of a voice as she could manage. "But for that to happen, we're going to need counseling."

He stared at her for a long moment. Finally, he swallowed and nodded.

"If that's what you want," he said quietly.

Ginny gave him a quick, false smile. "I do," she said, hoping she sounded far more certain than she felt.