Harry was listening to her speak, standing immobile by the counter, then contemplated what he should be drinking. Settling on tea, Harry filled the kettle silently, once Ginny was done speaking. Only once he had set the kettle on the stove did he turn to face her, leaning back on the counter.
He wanted to pour his thoughts into Ginny's brain, confident that any words he might come up with wouldn't be sufficient to make Ginny understand. She would need to have lived everything he had lived since the second war and before.
"Gin... Hermione wants us working for the Ministry. I do work for the Ministry. I need to keep my cover. If I disobey, I get fired and branded like Hermione." It wasn't quite that simple, but that was what it boiled down to, and Harry shrugged. "What good would I be to the DA, to anybody, without this small advantage? Do you know what some of the others, the ones who are pro-Ministry did to the ones they branded? Ginny, you know I didn't want to do that. It killed me." It was true. Harry was never going to be the same again. Even now, something was different in his eyes even than during the war. Something was missing. Something had died. "I didn't have a choice. The only choice I had was to get branded and let someone worse do Luna's, or do Luna's myself. What would you have done? What would you have had me do?"