Just a quick word before starting. This story features several ficlets around the Harry-Ginny ship, a few of which are substantial enough to be considered full fanfictions in their own right (The Counsel of Weasleys in rough draft is about 5,000 words.) In the chapter menu, any chapters beginning with a T or G followed by a number are the ficlets (T1, G1, T2, etc.)

Oh, and I promise to update as quickly as possible (...as long as you all agree to review) :-)

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Chapter 1

Marriage Counseling

"You know what I hate, Henry? I hate how she always nags."

"Nags? Reminding you about something is not nagging."

"Yes it is! And you do it all the time, and it drives me up the wall!"

"You deserve it, especially after you put your muddy shoes up yet again on the couch's arm rest."

"That was one time, and you won't shut up about it!"

"Oh, oh! And he snores!"

"I do not!"

"Yes you do! You're so loud you woke up the neighbor's cat one night!"

"Wait, wait, wait... you two, please calm down." Henry looked at the pair and knew he had his work cut out for him. Or at least he would if he suspected they would be back; he recognized well the couples that came for counseling once and never returned, and these two seemed like likely candidates. He could see why they probably fell in love and got married in the first place - even though they were both in their mid-thirties, neither could be described as unattractive. Unfortunately, he dealt with that a lot; love based solely on youth faded faster than even youth did.

"Ok," Henry said, trying to calm things down. "Do you share any hobbies?"

"Not really," George answered. Teresa shook her head a few seconds later, not coming up with anything.

"Well, how did you meet?" Henry asked, not deterred.

George blushed a bit and didn't say anything. Teresa replied, "We actually met at a Harry Potter convention in London..."

"That's great!" Henry said, smiling, ignoring the sulking look George had. "Well, I'll tell you what, I want to meet with you a week from today..."

"Can't," George interrupted, unable to hide a bit of glee from his voice. "I'm heading out on a business trip on Friday, and I won't be back until Tuesday, so I won't be able to come on Monday evening."

Henry smiled again, but this time it was relatively forced - he'd been right about them, or at the very least George. "Well, two weeks from today, then. Anyway, I have an exercise I want the two of you two to do. I want you to each write a short story of Harry Potter, of the Harry Potter world. They both need to have a romantic aspect to it, though it doesn't have to be a romance story by any means. Afterwards, you need to share them with each other and talk about both. You'll need to do this every two days, and I want you to spend the day between thinking about what you both wrote and what was said afterwards. Sound alright?"

"It sounds perfect," Teresa said quickly in a firm voice to preempt any objection George might have.

"Well, then," Henry said, forced smile still in place, "I hope I will see you in two weeks."

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"I can't believe you told him I was a Harry Potter fan," George grumbled, stepping in through the front door.

"I told him we're Harry Potter fans," Teresa countered. "Besides, it sounds fun to me."

"It does?" George asked, completely surprised. "I think it's just going to be one more thing for us to complain about."

"You realize that you're already complaining, dear?" Teresa said, rolling her eyes.

"See! Look, we haven't even started writing!" George bemoaned.

Personally, George saw this as a consequence of going to the marriage counseling in the first place. If there was anything worse than having to sit through an hour of his wife complaining about every little thing he did, it was getting to come home and invite her to complain some more.

"Well, should we get started?" Teresa asked. To tell the truth, she was a bit sick of this already. It's not like it was her idea, but she at least was trying to make the best of this. George might be many things, but an avid reader he was not, and she privately felt her writing would probably be wasted on him.

George sighed too heavily to be completely theatric-free. "Might as well."

The two separated; George went into the study to type on the computer while Teresa went to the other end of the house, sprawling atop the bedroom's comforter with paper and pencil in hand. Two hours later, they met in the living room and silently handed each other their work.

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