Author's Note: I do not and never will own Harry Potter.
Written for the Occasion-a-Day Competition/Challenge. September 6 Prompt: Write something that's set in the Hogwarts library.
"Do you come here often?"
Ginny jumped, hands trembling as she nearly dropped her Transfiguration book on her foot.
"Who said that?" she quavered. She felt like such a ninny, but the dementors made her feel sick, her head was haunted, and her soul felt like it had been scraped with razors. Was it a wonder she jumped at shadows?
"Me," the voice giggled in her ear. It sounded oddly echoing. Ginny turned her head and squeaked again when she realised she could see through the girl standing next to her.
"Don't tell me you've never seen a ghost before," the ghost girl snorted, putting her hands on transparent hips.
"Of course I have," Ginny replied indignantly, remembering to keep her voice down so Madam Pince didn't give her one of those glares. "Who are you?"
"Myrtle Warren, at your service," the ghost said, holding the edges of her robes out in a sort of curtsy.
"You're Moaning Myrtle!" Ginny exclaimed in a moment of insight, then immediately regretted it when tears poured down the girl's face.
"You don't have to be so rude about it," Myrtle hiccuped. "I thought you were nice...you looked like me..."
"Sssh, please don't cry," Ginny begged. "Look, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be rude. Er," she hesitated. "Why d'you say I looked like you?"
"Alone," Myrtle replied, sounding almost happy now. The tears had switched off as if by faucet. "Why else would you be in the library so much by yourself? Do they tease you?"
"Who?" Ginny asked blankly. Myrtle rolled her eyes.
"Them," she repeated. "Anybody?"
"No," Ginny shook her head. "Not really. I just like being alone now. After last year." She shivered, the thickness of her robes doing nothing to dispel the chill stealing over her.
"Him," Myrtle whispered. Her eyes swam behind enormous lenses. "He's the reason I died, did you know?"
"Yes," Ginny said. "He-" she cleared her throat, swallowing hard. "He told me."
"Oh," Myrtle said, looking disappointed.
"I'm really sorry you died," Ginny replied awkwardly. "Do you uh, want me to sit here with you? I could turn pages for you or something if you like?"
"Would you?" Myrtle's jaw dropped. "Nobody's ever offered to before..."
"Yeah, I'd be glad to," Ginny said, a genuine smile creeping across her face for the first time in months. "Which one would you like?"