A/N: House: Hufflepuff | Category: Short story | Prompt: Flashlight/torch | Word Count: 1104
Daylight was quickly fading as Ginny wandered aimlessly through the Burrow's grounds. Brilliant hues of orange and pink filled the sky, but she scarcely noticed. She had not been able to focus on much of anything through the worry that had clouded her mind for the past week. Everyone had been on edge since Harry, Ron, and Hermione had disappeared during the attack at Bill and Fleur's wedding. There was a stillness to the air that made it seem as though the Burrow itself was waiting for their return with bated breath.
She was torn from her thoughts as she came to an abrupt halt in front of her father's shed, which she had been about to run into. It had not been her intention to stop by the shed, but now that she was there she realized that she could really use her father's calming presence. She knocked lightly on the weathered wood before slowly pushing the door open. Her dad was sitting at his work bench tinkering with some muggle item, but at her entrance he looked expectantly towards the door. A soft smile lit his face when he saw it was her and she felt a rush of affection for him.
"Hey, Dad," she greeted, and her smile came naturally for the first time that week.
"Well, this is a pleasant surprise! To what do I owe the pleasure?" he asked.
"I was feeling a bit restless so I decided to take a walk and ended up here," she replied honestly as she approached the work bench to join him. He pulled a chair up next to him and patted it.
"Have a seat, then—we can be restless together," he said simply. It was one of the things she loved most about her dad—he didn't pry and he didn't try to dismiss her feelings with empty words. If she needed to talk, he always gave the best advice. If she didn't, he was also an exceptional silent companion.
She peered down at his current project, but she didn't recognize the muggle object. It was a bright red plastic cylinder with a switch towards the end, which was slightly wider than the rest of the tube and had a smooth, clear top. A cap with a silver spring attached sat next to it. She bent her head to peek inside the empty tube and saw more silver. Her dad also had several different batteries—a term she had learned years ago when her father had first discovered them—lined up along the table.
"What are you working on?" she asked, puzzled. While she didn't have quite as much enthusiasm for muggle things as her father, she was still interested in learning about them.
"This is what the muggles call a torch," he explained excitedly, "Once you put the batteries in, you flip the switch and it lights up! Amazing, what these muggles can do!" She smiled indulgently at him.
"Oh, yeah, Harry told me about those," Ginny said without thinking. It stung to say his name, but she didn't have time to dwell on her feelings, as her father had raised his eyebrows and was looking at her with mild surprise.
"I didn't realize you and Harry were close," he replied. He was fighting a smile and she quickly ducked her head to avoid his probing gaze. She usually had a very good poker face, but she could never quite manage it around her dad.
"Oh, we're not," she lied, but he just smiled knowingly at her.
"Ah, I see. Well, forgive my presumption," he began, but his eyes were serious when he gently continued, "I just thought you might like to talk about it if you were. I imagine it would be very hard to have someone…close to you…go missing."
"Yeah, it is—er, would be." The words had once again escaped unbidden, and she hoped that he had missed her slip-up. He hadn't.
"Well, in any case, I believe they will all be fine. I think those three could pull off just about anything," he chuckled, but she could hear his underlying concern. She picked up one of the smaller batteries and rolled it in her palm.
"I know…I just wish there was a way to know they're safe. That's the worst part—having to wonder all the time," she replied, her burning eyes fixed determinedly on the battery in her hand.
He nodded solemnly before responding, "Yes, that part is very difficult. I would be lying if I said I wasn't almost out of my mind with worry…but I just have to believe that they will return." There was an edge of desperation to his voice as he finished speaking and she knew he understood what she was feeling completely. He picked up the torch and examined the inside for a moment. "Would you hand me the two large batteries next to you?"
She handed him the batteries and watched in silence as he slid them into the tube. He replaced the cap and flicked the switch, but nothing happened. He frowned and unscrewed the lid, dumping the batteries onto the table. As he looked at the items in front of him, he seemed to have a moment of realization and he replaced the batteries, this time in the opposite direction. He nodded in satisfaction and held the torch out to her.
"Would you like to do the honors?"
She took the torch from him and flipped the switch, illuminating the previously dimly lit shed. Her dad was grinning madly and his excitement was so infectious that she couldn't help but smile with him.
"Amazing! Can you believe it?" he exclaimed.
"How do they come up with these things?" she asked, shaking her head.
"Truly ingenious, muggles are!" He took the torch and turned it off, then looked directly into the light source as he turned it back on. She laughed as he flinched back from the sudden assault of bright light and hurried to turn it back off.
"Don't blind yourself, Dad," she advised him affectionately. She yawned, and only then did she realize just how tired she was.
"Why don't you get to bed early? No offense, but you look knackered."
"None taken. Night, Dad." She rose and hugged him tightly, trying to express her gratitude for him with the gesture.
"It's okay to worry, Ginny, just don't let it consume you. Let yourself hope."
His parting words left her feeling significantly lighter as she returned to the house, and, as she drifted off to sleep, her mind was filled with hopes for the future.