"I don't know," Ginny said, "I'm not sure Harry would want it."
"Why wouldn't he want to be a Prefect – it's a position of authority, and…it's Harry. Who else could it be?"
Ginny, bust trying out new hairstyles in the mirror, said, "Ron'd like it – you know he would. I think Harry would care more about not getting it, to be honest."
"Yeah," Hermione said, staring at her hands. Their bedroom was extremely sparse, and she still wasn't entirely certain why she'd allowed Ginny to convince to attempt a 'make-over', but it definitely beat cleaning up after Doxies. Hermione didn't really like Grimmauld Place – it was too grim and dark – but it was worth it to be with the Weasleys. She didn't know how Harry had managed all those weeks with only the horrible Dursleys and the Prophet.
Thinking of Harry, Hermione sighed. "He's just so angry all the time," she said. "The first night he was here – you can't imagine, Ginny."
Ginny snorted. "Can't imagine? Hermione, there were people in Norway who had a fairly good idea what he was saying."
"Yeah," Hermione said, still chewing on the inside of her lip. There was something about Harry when he was angry that – she wasn't scared of him, obviously, people didn't get scared of their best friends, but – it wasn't like with Ron. Ron would roar and bluster and break small items occasionally, but…it just wasn't the same.
Ginny seemed to sense her discomfort, for she came to sit beside Hermione on the bed. "It's not that surprising, really," she said. "After what he's seen, whatever You-Know-Who did… He probably thinks it's his fault."
"That's ridiculous."
"Why?"
"Because…it wasn't Harry who used a Killing Curse – it wasn't Harry who cut his own arm open…"
"We know that," Ginny said, "But I bet Harry doesn't. You don't know what he's like, Hermione – he gets into your head; he makes you think things that aren't true."
Ginny's face had that horribly tight look again, and Hermione felt that awful gap in her knowledge once again. She'd read all about Voldemort, in all kinds of history books and personal accounts, but none of it chilled her as much as Ginny saying, in that slightly deadened tone, "And the worst thing is, you can't stop him, you just can't. You know it's false and wrong and awful, but it's still…there, and there's no getting rid of it."
Hermione stared at her friend – all her words seemed stuck to her tongue. Ginny's face seemed twenty years older as she said, "Hermione, can I tell you something?"
She nodded instantly. "Of course. Anything."
Ginny sniffed and stood. She paced the room for several seconds before sitting on a small stool, a few feet from Hermione. Hugging her knees, she said, "I haven't told anyone this…not even Mum, not even Bill – they couldn't handle it, and I don't know, maybe you can't either, but…I have to tell someone, Hermione, I have to!"
By this stage, Ginny seemed close to tears, and Hermione struggled for words. "It's okay, Ginny. Whatever it is, you can tell me, really."
Ginny nodded, her hair swinging past her chin. Staring at the floor, she said, in a whisper, "Michael wasn't my first kiss."
This was not quite what Hermione had been nerving herself to hear. "Not Neville?" She asked, inwardly aghast at the very idea of Neville and Ginny…ever…
Ginny gave a strange half-laugh, and said, "No. I wish that was what… Hermione, I don't know how to say this."
Hermione got off the bed and hunkered down beside Ginny, resting one hand on her knee, and said, "I'm here – just say what you can think of."
Ginny nodded, still staring into the distance. It was a long moment, during which Hermione heard Mrs Black shouting downstairs, before Ginny said, "It was…in first year."
Something in Hermione came to a sudden halt when she heard those words. She noticed that Ginny's fingernails were digging into her arms where she'd clasped her hands.
Ginny sucked in a breath, and said, "When he… When Tom Riddle took me down there, he said, he said that…since I was going to die, no one was ever going to kiss me – Harry was never going to kiss me – but…" Ginny's voice surged suddenly with hatred, "Since I was 'such a pretty girl', he didn't think it was right for it to happen that way, so…" She drew breath, looking at Hermione for the first time, and said, "When he came the diary, he wasn't…it wasn't like a person exactly, but…he came towards me, and then…I felt it, Hermione."
Hermione didn't want to know what had happened, didn't want to think about Ginny, so tiny in that dark room, with the most evil wizard of all time, but…Ginny needed to say it. "What happened?" she asked.
A solitary tear feel down Ginny's cheek as she said, "He put his hands in my hair, like this, and I could him, his fingers pressing into me, and then he kissed me. I mean, properly, not some peck, and…that's the last thing I remember."
Hermione felt sick. She wanted to rush out the bathroom and wash her face, or break a window, or fall down the stairs, or something, because this, this was just horrible. Somehow she managed to say, "What happened then?"
Ginny shrugged. "I don't know – the next thing I remember is waking up, and Harry coming towards me. He was covered in blood."
The two of them sat in silence for a moment, and then Ginny said, "Hermione, do you think I'm disgusting?"
"No! No! No, Ginny, don't say that. Don't ever say that."
Hermione stared at her friend, stared at her hard, and said, "Ginny, you had something terrible happen to you, that's all. That's all it is – it's not you, do you understand me?"
Ginny's creased up, and she started to cry in earnest. Hermione wrapped her arms around her, and hugged her as hard as she possibly could. It wasn't right that these kinds of things could happen, it wasn't right for anyone to make Ginny think those kinds of thoughts.
Eventually, Ginny stopped crying, and Hermione handed her a tissue. "Maybe," she said, "We should go downstairs. Sirius makes great hot chocolate."
Ginny sniffled. "Hot chocolate would be really nice."
Hermione touched her on the shoulder affectionately. "Will we go down then?" she said.
Ginny nodded, and they made their way downstairs. Rain spattered the windows, and there was a fire burning in the grate, and the two girls sat down to watch Harry and Ron play a game of chess. From a certain shrewd glance Sirius sent Hermione, she rather thought he guessed Ginny had been crying.
But he didn't do anything – or at least not anything much. He glanced at Harry, who seemed to understand instantly – a moment later he asked Ginny for advice about his Bishop. As Ginny wasn't particularly good at chess, he still lost, but by the end Ginny was laughing and smiling again. Knowing Harry, he probably wasn't even aware that he'd cheered her up so magnificently, but that it was just his way – Hermione had seen him do the same thing for Neville several times. As she watched them laughing, and took a deep sip of her hot chocolate, Hermione was glad to be reminded that, even at their lowest, her friends could be wonderful.