Molly was bustling around the kitchen when Ginny arrived. "Can you grab that pot for me, love? Just needs to go on the bench… No! On the heat-mat… yes. Ok – in the oven, bread – yes, take it out. On the table. Don't worry about the mat…" Molly paused, pushed her hair out of her face. "Good to see you, love." Ginny smiled back at her beaming mother and then, like the eye of the storm, the calm passed and everything was movement again.
Finally, everything was organised, and Molly sat down with her daughter, cups of tea in their hands. Ginny sipped the comforting brew, sighed as she relaxed into the chair.
"You're over early today, love; is everything ok?" Molly asked, peering at her daughter over the top of her steaming cup.
Ginny forced herself to smile. "Yes, I just wanted some company. You know what it's like in Diagon Alley these days. Oh, and Hermione says hello."
They chatted about Hermione and Ron for a little while, and Molly shared what she'd heard from Ginny's other brothers. "Charlie's still looking after that Golden Genevan, the one he saved from the Russian ministry three months ago." Molly clucked. "Still single, as well. Bill and Fleur bought a nice house in Egypt, hopefully now they'll settle down enough to give me some grandchildren."
Ginny smiled at her mother, genuinely this time. She cared so much for her brothers – and for herself, she knew. Steering the conversation toward the garden, Ginny thought about her other brothers – Percy, who they still didn't talk about; Fred and George… killed, five years ago now. She still found herself missing their jokes, their mischief.
Forcing herself back to the present, Ginny asked about her dad's work trying to get the Ministry back together.
Molly frowned. "He says he's getting somewhere, but I don't really know. Oh, darling, I just… I thought everything would be ok once we got rid of Voldemort." Ginny reached over and held her mother's hand. "Your father believes so strongly in some form of democracy… I'm beginning to wonder if our society will even accept it if he can ever get it off the ground. It's been four and a half years now, and he's made almost no headway. He's still so optimistic… I want to be strong and support him, but it feels so… inevitable that he won't succeed…"
She was interrupted by the front door opening, and with a guilty look, began to change the subject.
"Hi dad," Ginny smiled up at her father as he entered the room.
With a quick kiss on Molly's cheek Arthur smiled at his daughter. "Hi Gin, how are you?"
Ginny smiled back at her father as Molly got up to start fussing over dinner again. "I'm going ok, dad."
"The Leaky Cauldron still treating you ok?"
"Yes, Tom's lovely. I'm so thankful for his insistence that I have a whole day off."
"That's right, you visited Hermione for lunch?"
"Yes, she's doing well. Ron's found work with a pretty reliable company, and they're thinking about buying a house somewhere."
"That's great, I'm glad that they're doing so well." There was a tinge of sadness in Arthur's voice, but before Ginny could ask him about it, Molly called them through for dinner.
Homemade bread was always a treat. The meat – little that there was – was delicious, and the vegetables that Molly grew tasted great. They chattered about inconsequential things – the weather, the wildlife. They steered clear of politics, and of money issues. Once dinner was over, Arthur went into one of the rooms that had now become his study. Molly sighed, and Ginny gave her mother a hug. She could think of nothing else to do.
Sometime after the dishes were done, Ginny found her way into her father's study.
"Are you ok, dad?" She asked from the doorway.
Arthur took of his glasses, pinched the bridge of his nose, then wiped a hand over his balding head. "I guess so, munchkin."
Ginny walked over, sat on Arthur's desk in front of him. "Dad, what's going on?"
His hand smoothed his hair again before he answered. "I just… Nobody's interested. Nobody wants a democracy again. Everyone I speak to seems to think that a centralised government will only bring about the same sort of destruction that we saw with Voldemort. Or the bumbling idiocy that Fudge had, or – even worse – the Military Rule that Scrimgeour introduced. Even Harry… He just wants to sit in his house on the hill, work in his garden and ignore the world. I don't know how much longer I can keep going."
Arthur pulled his daughter onto his lap, held her like he had when she was little. He was silent for a long time, but Ginny could feel his breath hitching and his shoulders working to keep tears inside.
"Daddy," Ginny started, but Arthur cut in.
"I know. Why do I keep doing it? I just… There's no hope, otherwise. I need something to do, or I'll just… fade away." He looked at her, seeking reassurance.
Ginny nodded. "I love you dad," she said quietly.
"I love you, too, Gin."