Disclaimer: J.K Rowling isn't me. And some lines are taken from the song "Mad World" by Gary Jules. I think.
She likes to play with his hair.
He doesn't mind. Too much.
"Harry," she says, in her own perky voice, "what's on your mind?"
Harry pauses and thinks. He likes the sound of her voice. She could announce products on the Wizarding Wireless Network with that voice. All syrup and sweetness.
"I find it kind of funny…" he says, then stops.
"What?" she says gently.
"Well, I find it kind of sad, too."
Ginny doesn't say anything this time. She just runs her hand through his hair. It feels nice. She is sitting on the bed, and he is in front of her, cross-legged. This has been their ritual since his painful return to 12 Grimmauld Place. Sitting, playing with his hair, and talking. But their silence is just as golden.
"That dreams in which I'm dying are the best I've ever had."
She stops stroking his hair, starts to say something, then thinks better of it. She now scratches the back of his neck. It's so pleasant; he feels like purring.
Harry imagines his friends' reactions to this news. Ron would freak out; Harry hears his panicked voice in his head.
"But, but…Harry, mate, y-you can't think that? Is it the scar? Do you need to talk to Mum, I mean, she's better with this sort of thing. Though, Dad can brew a mean Sleepless Potion…just tell us, Harry, if you need anything! Bloody hell, suicide…it's not good, Harry!"
Harry smiles slightly. Ron is all feelings and emotion, though he didn't like to show it. He then imagines Hermione's reaction.
"Harry! I refuse to let you think like this! Should we go to Dumbledore about this? Or, I mean, my parents go to this psychiatric doctor, maybe he could help you…perhaps there are books about it at my house? Oh, Harry, you know better, don't think like this…but, remember, you can talk to us about anything! In fact, it was very healthy of you to tell me about this, good job!"
Hermione, on the other hand, is all books and reason with an edge of emotion.
Ginny, meanwhile, is silent.
"Harry…I believe in you. I mean, y'know, I would be sad if you went. Actually, angry…how dare you do that? But I know you. That's all they are—dreams. You're Harry Potter, the boy who lived. You'll come out on top."
He smiles. That's Ginny. Blunt as anything, but understanding.
She continues to scratch his neck, and the whole situation is making with the better.