06

The phrase "easier said than done" is defined as something that sounds easy when said but when you come to do it; it becomes a lot harder than you anticipated. For instance, you could make a bet with your friends and say you could easily juggle a set of knives blindfolded without getting harmed, or tell your mother you could manage to ward off a nest of hornets on your own without getting stung, or tell the police you had managed to murder five people twice the size of you completely alone with only a hand mirror and a typewriter.

Harry of course, would have rather been face with the challenge of juggling knives blindfolded, or to ward off a nest of angry hornets or to face the challenge of murdering five people, all quite larger than himself with only two insignificant objects. But the term "easier said than done" in this instance was that it was easier said than done to go up to someone you love and announce to them that your have been alive and well for many months despite being thought of as dead.

If you have ever found yourself in this predicament, which I highly doubt many of you have, you would know the thoughts that go through your head are both fearful and menacing. And as Harry thought long and hard through the night unable to sleep, tossing and turning under the covers and wearing up a cold sweat, Harry thought it as "easier said than done" to come up with a solution when he had never really been a problem solver himself.

Most of all the troubled situations he had ever gotten into, and I would like to add there have been quite a few, he would almost always rely on his friendship with Hermione Granger - as would Ron - to give him the answers he needed. He COULD go to her for help, but that was "easier said than done" as she too, like Ginny and the rest of the Wizarding world believe Harry to be dead – and even though he regretted everything now, there was really no easy way Harry could "spill the beans", a phrase which here means 'to explain in great detail about how he is still alive despite the fact people think he is dead.'

So as the night went past, and morning broke – Harry sat thinking and thinking blank thoughts, knowing all well that if he decided to come out with the truth that the next couple of weeks in his life will be the most stressful. Rather than weeping about it, he decided to head down to breakfast feeling rather tired, dry of ideas and carrying the burden that he had forced Remus into such a situation as lying.

'Morning,' was all either of them could manage and they ate in an agreeable silence that lasted until the plates were put in the sink.

'Harry I thought I'd better tell you I won't be home tonight.' Remus said, as they congregated into the lounge and Remus sat as his desk. 'I'm going out to… well I'm going out.'

'Oh?' Harry said rather surprised.

'Yes.' Remus said, and added with a cough. 'With Nymphadora.'

'Who?' Harry asked stupidly.

'Tonks.' Remus said firmly. 'Nymphadora Tonks.'

'Oh.' Harry said again, and then he realised. 'Oh!'

'Now I was presuming you could cook something for yourself and-'

'Is it a date?' Harry interrupted, unable to hold it.

Remus froze. 'I'm sorry?'

'Is it a date?' Harry repeated. 'With Tonks?'

Remus cleared his throat. 'No.' He said firmly. 'Definitely not-'

'Sounds like it.' Harry said with a smirk.

'Harry I assure you it's not like that.' Remus said, frowning and scratching his chin. 'We're just… catching up. Going over some things-'

'Yeah, OK.' Harry accepted, hiding a cheeky grin. 'I can cook for myself no problem. What times the date then?'

'Well she's coming at about eight and-' Remus turned red. 'It's not a DATE!'

'If you say so,' agreed Harry. He figured Remus was lying, but he'd rather stay on the good side of a werewolf as the full moon quietly approached.

'Let's just drop it.' Remus said and as he returned to his desk work, Harry set out to venture the sloping meadows of spring in old county England.

-

Sleep is essential in life. If one would not sleep, then there is a good chance you may end up dead, as sleep acts as a replenishing tool – and if none of us ever slept then the world would be a very much larger and complex place. And when the term "I can sleep when I am dead" comes up in conversation, often there are two ways looking at it – depending on that person.

Firstly, if they seem capable of walking in a straight line and stringing a sentence together that sense make, then they are most likely to be a rare case of managing life with very little sleep. Secondly, if they look rather tired then they are most definitely faking it; perhaps they go to such terrible lengths because they were anticipating on going to a fancy new restaurant, or highly rated Broadway film, or in one particular case, juggling two jobs on a low salary in order to put food on the table.

When Ginny Weasley said 'I can sleep when I am dead' to her parents in a funny haze early one morning, it was obvious Ginny would rather stay awake. Perhaps it was not to go to a new fancy restaurant, or to watch a Broadway film and most definitely not to juggle two jobs when she didn't even have one job and her father managed to cope with his.

It was more obvious to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley that their daughter didn't want to see what she saw at night. Harry of course was still a vivid memory in her mind and she had woken up more than a few times in the night calling his name. She kept her door locked, so no one would come to her if they heard her crying – as much as they wanted to, she just wouldn't let them in.

'I can sleep when I am dead!' Ginny uttered, after her mother had feared she wasn't sleeping enough.

Molly sighed and watched her daughter leave and turned to her husband.

'Don't look at me Molly,' Arthur said.

'She needs help, Arthur.'

'Perhaps so. But I hate the thought of my only daughter ending up in therapy.' He sighed and put his plate in the sink. 'Let her think for a bit – perhaps she will come to us.'

Ginny left, without a thought of what she was enforcing or without a thought of where she was going. She shot outside and out the gate into the morning, leaving behind a sleepless night and hoping she could regenerate energy by mellowing in the awesome fields. Her mind was rattled; weeks had passed since she had told herself she needed to get over it. But her mind had never really caught up with the idea. And perhaps in this instance, it was easier said than done.

-

Harry felt slightly bemused when Tonks arrived at the lodge for her so called "non-date" she had with Remus, wearing a stunning red dress and walking awkwardly in high-heels and covered in heavy make-up. Harry had stayed out of sight of course and watched them go; it seemed far from a simple catch up. She was giggling as they held hands and she was leaning in pretty close – almost as if she had had too many Butterbeers already. Harry knew that when Remus glanced backwards he had hoped Harry wasn't watching – but he (Harry) made a mental note to bring it up over breakfast the next morning.

As Harry waited for the fish he had bought earlier in the day for dinner to cook through, he strolled around the Lodge taking an in depth look at some of Remus' belongings. There were not a lot of things of interest, but Remus had only one thing of value in his eyes – his books. And as much as he said about not minding Ginny going through them, Harry had seen the werewolf scan through his precious books for any sign of damage once Ginny had returned them and gone.

Harry really hadn't taken notice before but, it really was quite a large collection. Ranging from "Advance Angry Aardvarks to Zany Zebras" and Harry found it difficult to wonder how Ginny would ever go through all of these in one schooling year – when there were book titles with names like "Variegated patchwork" that he didn't begin to understand.

"Variegated patchwork" could mean many things, but in this instance the book labelled "Variegated patchwork" consisted of ninety eight pages of quilt and doona patterns made with various colours and designs from thirty three perfectionists all earning a living in this one book. It has very little to do with Magic and Remus only owned it because his mother had given it to him when he was a child.

Harry turned his focus away from the books and instead of the delicious smell coming from the oven and returned to his fish cooked to perfection. It was even tastier with the addition of some mixed vegetables and pasta, and he was impressed himself of how delicious it tasted and melted in his mouth.

When he had finished his meal and sat in a dull eerie silence at the table of the lodge, feeling quite abundantly full and having no desire for desserts – which suited because he hadn't thought of making any. So after a quick swift of Remus' old wand, the dishes were done and the place sparkled so Harry went on another of his late sombre walks through the country.

He had to admit, his walks were becoming repetitive with each step he took, no matter what change of direction he made. The meadows around the lodge were completely alike, where every tree, every scrub and every unearthed logged looked exactly the same as its predecessor – and the one that was to follow. Perhaps it was the reoccurrence of spotting Ginny on his merry walks, whether it be her red hair streaking behind her she went through the fields, or frown and the tears upon her face as she sat secluded at her bedroom window peering into either the day or night sky – she was definitely the reason he left the lodge.

He didn't see her that night though.

The thought of seeing Ginny again made him want to head eastwards to the Burrow, but instead he took a sharp turn and went north, more towards London. He didn't go that far, ten minute walk perhaps – stopping at a muddy creek run down with garbage tossed in by muggles flying past in their motor cars on the highway. He took one sniff of the putrid smell and turned on his heels.

When he returned to the lodge some time later, it looked just as he had left it, of course he wasn't expecting Remus home for hours as he was on – what had seemed – quite a successful non-date. A slow, broad smirk appeared on Harry's face at the many ideas and lines he could use when the elder man arrived home, blushing an ugly pink as Harry stood at the doorway grinning.

But as it ticked after midnight, and as Harry lifted the covers of his bed so he could slip under them willingly in a need of comfort – he thought perhaps he shouldn't torment the werewolf in the morning. Since Remus had had to put up with so "much" of Harry's nonsense – over the weeks and months gone by, there really was only one way he could think of which to pay back the elder mans dept.

But as Harry lay there, he thought of it to be "easier said than done" in so many ways – each more unlikely to accomplish than the last. He knew deep inside himself it was there – ready to pounce out and strike in an instant; needing it, wanting it, taking it. Taking it until every last shred of insecurity had been released and the burden left on his shoulders would raise high above the clouds into non-existence.

And that burden - was to speak to Ginny Weasley.