The Man Who Can't Be Moved

Going back to the corner where I first saw you
Gonna camp in my sleeping bag I'm not gonna move
Got some words on cardboard, got your picture in my hand
Saying, "If you see this girl can you tell her where I am?"

He gazed intently at the brick wall as he slowly made his way forward. The memory was still vivid in his mind, even after almost ten years. The first day he ever met Rose Weasley. She'd been making her way out of Flourish and Blotts bookstore, her arms laden with books, just as he was about to enter. Inevitably, they'd crashed and her books had been sent soaring to the floor in a flutter of ink and parchment. She'd looked up at him, surprise clear in her eyes, and apologized profusely as he frowned at her musingly before bending down and stealthily collecting her books.

Blushing, she'd taken her books and ran off but he'd called after her, requesting her name.

"Rose," she'd replied with all the affection an eleven-year-old could inject into an embarrassed smile before she turned round and all he could see was the dark curls of her hair as she disappeared into the crowds.

Resurfacing to reality, he heaved a sigh before he sat down, his sleeping bag by his side and a picture of her in his hand. All that was left to do now was wait. The seconds quickly turned into minutes and the minutes easily into hours. People ogled him with unashamed interest as they passed, some with amusement, most with scorn. After a few hours the owner of the bookstore came out to inquire as to why Scorpius had decided to reside in the front of his shop, waiting for a girl, to come and bestow her pardon upon him.

"Do you need money, son?" the owner had asked.

"No sir," he'd replied hollowly. "I'm waiting for the girl I love."

"Is that her?" he'd asked and nodded towards the picture in his hand.

Scorpius held out the picture for the man to better inspect and get a closer look at her profile. "Yes, that's her. She's beautiful isn't she?"

"Yes," the owner replied and after presenting him with a gaze mixed with confusion and pity, had retreated back into his store.

Some try to hand me money, they don't understand
I'm not broke I'm just a broken hearted man
I know it makes no sense but what else can I do
How can I move on when I'm still in love with you

His eyes scanned the photo in his hands with brooding eyes. He yearned for the feel of her in his arms, the softness of her dark hair, the warmth of her body, the intellect behind her eyes and the playful lift of her lips.

He missed her.

* * *

The weather outside couldn't have been more English, she thought as she stared out the window at the drizzly rain and bleak sky. And the kitchen certainly did nothing to improve the mood. It was merely a small white room that contained a few dodgy cupboards and an even dodgier table. Opposite her, her cousin and flatmate, Albus was sat reading his copy of The Daily Prophet whilst casually sipping on tea. She on the other hand was eating toast and failing to sieve her head of a few unwanted, ill-intentioned thoughts. It was rather easy to say that today her mood matched the weather perfectly. Grim with a chance of murder.

"Holy..!" Albus exclaimed quietly and sent a short-lived glance her way above his paper. Rose raised her cheerless gaze towards his, the question clear in her eyes.

"What is it?" she enquired and raised her toast for another bite.

"Oh nothing…" he said offhandedly and paused before adding, "Chudley Cannons lost again."

"You don't support the Chudley Cannons," she said helpfully, her tone oozing sarcasm and her impression of suspicion vigilant. Albus was a terrible liar, despite his efforts.

"Your father got me into them at the last game," he fabricated and sent her a well-meaning 'please stop interrogating me' smile.

Rose stared briefly at the paper in his hands before she turned to him with a leer. "Who did they play at game?"

"Um…the, the…" he fished and she knew he was lost. Ignoring him, she lunged for the paper and snatched it away from him. "No, don't!"

She awarded him with a deadly glance that advised him to not give her a motive for a murderous rampage. Wisely, he obeyed. She spread the paper before her and began to flick through to the. Reaching the central papers where the not-so-important news resided, she combed her eyes over the pages. As far as she could see, there was nothing of interest there for either of them. She flickered on to the next page and her eyes immediately caught what had been the source of Albus' surprise.

They hadn't devoted a lot of space to it, for it was stuck right in the bottom right hand corner but the accompanying picture instantly lured her eyes towards it. Her heart twisted horribly as she inspected the picture more closely. The Man Who Will Not Be Moved the headline blared and her eyes quickly scanned the small piece.

What does it take to win another's affection back? There maybe a lot of answers but it's safe to say that Scorpius Malfoy's solution is by far the most elaborate. Having wronged his girlfriend recently, he has decided that the only way to win her back is to sit in front of the place they first met –Flourish and Blotts bookstore- and not move until he earns here forgiveness. Today marks day six of his endeavour. Despite his ex-girlfriend's failure to come see him yet, Mister Malfoy (son of noted Judge, Draco Malfoy) remains optimistic.

Maybe I'll get famous as the man who can't be moved
Maybe you wont mean to but you'll see me on the news
And you'll come running to the corner
'cause you'll know it's just for you
I'm the man who can't be moved