Word count: 818
Arthur hesitates outside the living room. Ginny sits on the couch, her eyes fixed upon the window which is still speckled with raindrops from the earlier shower. She's trying so hard to be strong after Harry left, but Arthur knows she's hurting inside. This is a different sort of heartache, one that's left Ginny feeling stuck, even if she won't ever admit it aloud.
"Gin?"
She looks up, smiling. Arthur wonders how she learned to be so strong, to shove her emotions down and put on a brave face for the sake of others."Hey, Dad," she says, climbing to her feet. "If you're looking for Mum, she went to Bill and Fleur's for the day."
"Actually, I was looking for you."
It isn't exactly the truth. Really, he had been on his way to his shed to tinker with a few Muggle things he'd found, but then he'd seen Ginny. How could he not stop for her? She is his baby, even if she's all grown up now and so fiercely independent.
"I don't know what to say," he says with a heavy sigh. "About Harry, I mean…"
Ginny shakes her head. "Please don't."
Arthur nods. So she doesn't want to talk about it. He's secretly pleased. Arthur has only ever loved one woman before, so he doesn't know how to relate to heartache, really. Of course, he would have been happy to listen to all her worries, if she had wanted to share them, even if he would have been a bit useless as far as offering advice goes.
His gaze shifts to the window. The ground is wet, and he can see where puddles have formed in some of the unlevel places. A grin stretches across his face. "Do you remember when you were younger?" he asks. "You couldn't have been any older than five, I think. But whenever it would rain, you'd always ask me to go outside with you so you could jump in the puddles."
Her face changes, relaxing. Her lips form a more genuine smile, not one to wear simply to make others feel better. "I always told you it made my heart happy," she laughs.
He chuckles at the memory of Ginny's tiny hand grabbing his and tugging. He could never deny her anything. "I think your heart wants to be happy now."
Her cheeks burn with color, the rich pink swallowing up the freckles on her skin. "I'm too old for that."
"Too old for a little whimsy? Have you looked at Fred and George lately?"
A moment passes. She doesn't have to, of course. Arthur is just struggling and hoping that reaching out is enough, that he's reaching enough and can help her. Finally, she shrugs. "Okay. Let's go make my heart happy. I just need to grab my Wellies."
…
It's been a long time since Arthur has done this, and he has to take care. His ankles are not as strong as they had been a decade ago, and he is painfully aware that landing wrong could end in disaster. Even so, it doesn't stop him. He finds the nearest puddle and jumps in it, sending muddy water flying into the air.
"You look ridiculous," Ginny laughs, but her words are not unkind.
Of course he does. There's no way for a grown man to splash around in puddles and look dignified about it. He had known he would look silly the moment he suggested it. It doesn't matter, though. Ginny is laughing and smiling, and it makes his heart swell with joy.
"Go on, then. Let's see how graceful you look," he tells her.
She makes a face and approaches a puddle, studying it in silence for a moment. Then she jumps, landing in with a splash and a laugh.
"You looked ridiculous too," Arthur says.
But neither of them really care. They're laughing and jumping, and maybe the world feels a little dark right now, and nothing is going the way they would have hoped, but right then and there, things are looking up.
"It never hurts to keep looking for sunshine," he tells her after they're both covered in mud and drenched with rainwater. "I know it's dark right now, but you are a candle, Ginevra Weasley. You glow so brightly, and you will find your way."
"I don't know what I'm supposed to do," she sighs.
"Doesn't matter. You don't need to have all the answers, dear. You just have to keep going and figure it out one day at a time."
Ginny wraps her arms around him, pulling him into a tight hug. "Thanks, Dad."
"Of course. Now, let's get changed. I'll put the kettle on and get lunch started."
He doesn't have the answers either, but he wishes he did. For now, though, he will take his own advice and carry on, slowly piecing it together. His family needs him.