Unquestionably Radiant

By Koalaburr

Author's Note: Ok, your dear Koala was in that writing sort of mood, and came up with this. I've been itching to write this story ever since I saw the little girl I baby-sit do her little ballet routine for me.

Basically, it's set during the summer before Ginny's fourth year, Harry's Fifth. I suppose this was a time when the Order allowed the Weasley's to go home. A holiday perhaps? I dunno, it's irrelevant to the drabble.

Disclaimer: Arthur, Molly, Ginny, and the twins belong to the great and almighty JKR.

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The thin dry paper of the Daily Prophet crinkled in Arthur Weasley's aging hands. He gave it a small whipping jerk and the paper feebly obeyed, relaxing its corners and bending forward. Rubbish. All of it. He really didn't know where they got all this jiggery pokery about Harry lying. He couldn't imagine Harry saying some of these things. It was as though the Ministry and Daily Prophet were in league together. He really wouldn't be surprised if they were.

Arthur visibly winced as he heard a crash and another explosion, this time of words from his wife's mouth in the other room.

"WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU TWO WERE DOING? WE'VE HAD THAT LAMP FOR AGES! THAT WAS YOUR GREAT, GREAT GRANDMOTHERS! IT'S IRREPLACEABLE! HOW COULD YOU BE SO CARELESS?? WHAT DO YOU HAVE TO SAY FOR YOURSELVES?"

"Really sorry 'bout that mum." came Fred's voice still calm, "We weren't really paying attention."

"YOU BET YOU WEREN'T! AND WHAT'S MORE, YOU'VE BOTH GOT CHORES TO DO AROUND THE HOUSE! I'LL EXPECT TO SEE EACH OF YOU IN THAT ROOM AND IT HAD BETTER BE CLEAN IN TWENTY MINUTES!"

"Yes mum." George said nonchalantly as they both bounded around the corner and raced up the stairs grinning like madmen.

Arthur shook his head glancing at the kitchen. Ginny was humming the new Celestina Warbeck song and waltzing about, putting the clean dishes away. She grabbed a plate, doing a little twirl and leaped over to the cabinet.

She'd become so beautiful. It really seemed like only yesterday when he gathered her tiny body into his arms and stared back into those sparkling chocolate eyes. She always had big eyes. And her height! She'd grown so tall, it seemed it wasn't the same person. As she took another spin on the linoleum he was reminded of a time, nearly 11 years in the past.

xxx

His hands grouped for the great gray ceramic cup and huddled into its warmth. Hot coco after such a long day would do him well. The Prophet was open and waiting on the end table, and the love seat looked so very inviting.

"Ah..." he said rolling his head back to rest on the top of the chair. Raids could be so complicated at times. Loads of them were silly trifles that turned into monsters when the Ministry was involved. Wizards taking advantage of those poor muggles, selling them defective shoes (the left shoe tended to spouted legs and move across the house when no one was around).

It was then that a patter of footsteps on wood rang in his ears. Soon petite feet could be seen. Pat, pat, pat. Miniature legs waded down each step and finally a full head of orange-red hair bounced around the post at the foot of the stairs.

"Well hello Ginny dear." He said giving her a warm smile.

She grinned back cheekily. She was clad in the smallest tutu; the gathers clung to her pale pink leotard by elastic. Atop her head a dazzling plastic tiara twinkled impressively.

"Why darling, you look positively stunning!" He laughed.

Her tiny giggle danced on his ears, and she grabbed a handful of tutu in each hand, straightening her arms as she twisted back and forth on the spot. "Thank you daddy! I want to show you something!" He awed at the way she pronounced her words, each took time and careful thought. Her innocence was unquestionably radiant.

"Alright then, let's see it!" He grinned and folded his paper, then his arms across his chest.

The little redhead vigorously hopped to the table where the radio sat, mumbling something about needing music. The radio clicked to life and began playing a rough song, at which Ginny crinkled her face and twisted the little knob further to the left. Soon, she'd found a classical song and nodded once.

She took her post in the middle of the worn living room and waited for the right beat in the song. She flashed a grin at him and put her hands up in the usual ballerina fashion. The music began to move about, the seventh child with it. She took little steps around the room on her tiptoes, and swung her arms down as she bounced. When she'd finished that much, she placed her feet one before the other, and gave a small pliƩ before twirling around the room. She continued for a while, and Arthur watched as a thin sheet of hair covered her soft features. She stumbled once or twice, but he couldn't tell if it was the clumsiness of a four-year-old body, or just the beauty of an art. (And everything about his child was beautiful.) He decided on the latter of the two as she finished by posing face down at the floor.

"Wonderful, excellent, bravo!" He cheered getting to his feet.

She hurried over to turn down the music that was still trickling along.

"Thank you." And another smile played on her lips. She turned to trot back up the stairs, but her father stopped her.

"Wait, come give daddy a hug, will you?"

"Oh-kay."

Ginny ran to him beaming, and threw her fragile arms about his neck and squeezed. Before he knew it she was halfway up the stairs again.

xxx

"Arthur," He was suddenly in the same room, although there were a bit more frays on the couch and patches on the pillows. He looked up to his wife, who was near glowering. "Those sons of ours... they've broken the-"

"Lamp. Yes I know. You'd think after all these years I wouldn't, but I can still hear." He joked.

"That isn't very funny Arthur. Oh," She paused to glance at the time, "I've got to check on the twins. They had better be cleaning..." and she continued mumbling empty threats until she'd left the room.

Meanwhile, Ginny had finished her chore and began walking into the living room. She was still, he noted, after all these years, the most graceful thing he'd ever seen. She bent down to plant a peck on his cheek and her hair swung forward.

"I'm off for bed, have a good night dad."

"Sweet dreams, love." She smiled again, but this time, she had straighter larger teeth and a handful more freckles.

Sighing at the paper in his hands, he realized how old he'd become. He'd tried his best to be a good father all these years and it seemed perhaps he'd gotten something right for once. He loved each of his children, all differently. And it was all he could do to protect them in such an uncertain time.

Soon they'd be caught up a raging war, and no one was certain who would take the opposing side this time around. They'd have to do dangerous things for the people they loved, and even those they didn't know. It would be hard, but he felt certain that his family would be safe. Love would have to do for now however.

And before he knew it, she was halfway up the stairs.