A strange sort of fanfic, I admit, but it was just begging to be written. Inspired and based upon THE MAN WHO CAN'T BE MOVED – The Script
Again, her face creeps into his mind. He sighs and runs a hand through his ginger hair, irritated at himself and his own helplessness. Never, in his whole life did he ever imagine he could sink to such a pathetic level.
He grudgingly lifts himself out of his seat behind the counter – the store is quite empty – and goes to find his twin.
'I'm going for a walk. I'll be back in ten,' he says when he finds him in the back, sorting through some new merchandise. But that's a lie. He has no idea when he will get back. He has no idea where he is going.
Finally, after several blind turns and being flipped off for his clumsiness, he looks up from his shoes to see where he is.
Going back to the corner…
Out of all the places, his godforsaken pair of feet have lead him here.
He had no idea where he was going, only that Molly Weasley had decided to launch a surprise visit upon him and his twin, and that he had about 3 minutes and 20 seconds before his potty break cover was blown by his suspiciously prolonged absence. Looking around, he sat on a wooden bench on the corner of the street as he tried to gather his surroundings. His eyes glided over the crowds of people that milled about him, until they caught on one face.
…where I first saw you.
She was coming his way. A smile tugging at the curiosity of it all, he formulated a quick plan and turned around. He counted the seconds until his timing was just right before stepping forward and stretching his arm across the pathway to tug open the door of the store in front of him: Delilah's Womens' Lingerie – A Woman's Touch.
... Ah well.
Once more, his arrogance – the attitude that proclaims that all wizards and witches will part for him – came in handy, as he knew it would. She walked straight into his chest and as he suavely steadied her, she looked up into his eyes.
'Hermione?' he asked, feigning surprise.
She blinked.
'Hermione Granger?'
He closes his eyes as memories splay beneath his eyelids. He sits down at the bench, pressing his blunt fingertips together, head bowed.
Going back to the corner where I first saw you…
'How long are you in London for?'
She smiled a smile full of the kind of happiness that one can only achieve through their own accomplishments.
'As long as I want,' she told him, still smiling. He took a sip of his butterbeer, noticing as he did how much it paid to have dentists as parents. She blushed under his gaze. He lowered the bottle, smirking.
'Wonderful.'
Gradually, the sky fades to a soft blue around him and the snow glowing an alien indigo from where it lies, carelessly swept to either side of the sidewalk. Something so beautiful, he muses, reduced to a muddy clump that no one takes the time to fawn over. No one even notices it. In fact, most people avoid stepping in it, because it is dirty. Is this how all once-beautiful things are treated?
The crowds lessen, yet the need to return to the store does not surface in his mind.
Not for the first time, he wonders what he's doing there. By now he knows, he's not going home.
Gonna camp in my sleeping bag, I'm not gonna move…
But why isn't he?
He knows that he can't move. He knows what he's waiting for. But for the life of him, he can't fathom why he even bothers.
Surely it's hopeless? Yet, he just can't convince himself. Their whole lives, he and his brother strived to prove to the world; nothing is impossible. No goal is hopeless.
The evening wind was cool and refreshing against his face and when he looked down at her, he knew she was feeling just as alive as he was. Tightening his grip around her, he urged the broom faster. She squealed, her fingers clutching against his shirt.
'Slow down!' she insisted, her voice muffled as she buried her face into his shoulder. He grinned crookedly but slowed the broom.
'Do you trust me?' he asked, his voice rough. She gazed at him with those large, unblinking eyes. She bit her lip and after a pause, nodded.
'Yes.'
He urged the broom faster once more.
Unable to help himself, he pulls a small photo from inside his coat. He wonders where she is. Does she wonder the same?
A thought occurs to him.
Got some words on cardboard, got your picture in my hand,
saying, 'If you see this girl, can you tell her where I am?'
A smile flits across his face before his grief hits him all over again.
He opened the door to see her standing on his porch, her face white and bitten with cold. Only her lips were cherry red. She'd been chewing them again. She was nervous.
'Hey,' he greeted her with a careful smile. She smiled too, but by now he knew her well enough to see that it was strained.
'What's wrong?' he asked, stepping towards her and closing the door. She looked up at him with a strange sort of sadness in her eyes.
'I should have known I couldn't fool you.' The corner of her mouth tugged into a lopsided smile that was gone before his heart had time to react.
He wanted to reach out to rub her arm at least, to comfort her, whatever the problem, but was sure that would only make her scared and more hesitant with him. He'd always known she was not like other girls, to be wooed with a charming smile and a flower. Somehow he'd always known she would be different, that she'd need someone different. And it had only been a few days since he realized that he wanted to be that different person.
-x-x-x-x-
He leans against the back of the bench and looks up at the night sky. The stars blink beautifully down at him and he regards them with clear blue eyes. Is she, too, watching the stars?
Some try to hand me money, they don't understand…
'The Ministry offered me another job today. A really good one. The pay's fantastic. I can start on Monday if I'm up for it.'
He beamed, though in the back of his mind he knew there was more – the bad news – to come.
'That's fantastic, love!' he exclaimed, pulling her forward for a quick hug. Again, he didn't want to make her uncomfortable. 'Did you say yes?'
Her eyes clouded for a moment, and immediately his smile faded.
'Well, there's a catch, you see…' she told him softly, and she looked down at the porch. Of course there was. Good things come with a price these days.
'What? What's wrong?' Even he could hear the anxious tone in his voice.
'The job… I can be head of my department in the Ministry headquarters… in Australia.'
… I'm not broke. I'm just a broken-hearted man.
He shakes his head, once again disgusted by his pathetic state. He runs a hand through his disheveled hair before dropping his head into it dismally.
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?...
Good god, he is a poor excuse for a man.
Shifting slightly and not moving his hand from his face, he leans back tiredly until his back hits the seat of the wooden bench. He swings one leg up onto the seat as he lies on the street bench, listening to his own breathing; the only sound in the by now deserted street. That is, until he hears the soft, cautious padding of curious footsteps and the jingling of keys.
He lifts his forearm from his eyes and sits up to see a middle-aged man in a uniform regarding him pitifully.
Policeman says, 'Son, you can't stay here.'
His eyelids are drooping, but he knows he can't sleep. He speaks, not knowing and not caring whether he answers out loud or not. His voice sounds like it's been cruelly squeezed from a dead man's voice box:
I said, 'There's someone I'm waiting for…'
He's mumbling now as the policeman lifts him to his feet, his voice numb. Lost in his grief:
'…if it's a day… a month….a year…
Gotta stand my ground even if it rains or snows,
If she changes her mind, this is the first place she will go….'
'Oh boy,' the policeman grunts as he drapes his arm over his shoulder. 'Don't you young'uns have anything better to do than waste away over some girl?'
So I'm not moving…
He shakes his head violently.
'I'm not moving.'
The policeman sighs as he pushes him away and stumbles back to the bench, his mind hazy with tire.
'Come on now, son. Don't be silly.' The man follows him back to the bench and attempts to pull him up again as he protests as politely as he can.
'Get your hands off me! Can't you see I'm grieving?' He closes his eyes and falls back against the bench, ignoring the police's hands trying to pull him up. 'Old fart,' he mutters absently.
'Oi!' the voice is very familiar and he turns to see his trusty twin running down the cobblestoned street towards the pair. 'Whoa, whoa, whoa!' he grins apologetically at the policeman who gives an irritated huff at the sight of another one.
'Sorry about the trouble sir, my brother's going through a tough time. Thank you for looking after him while I went to secure us some lodgings for the night, but I can take it from here. It'll be better for the whole community if you let someone a bit more experienced handle the situation,' he says with a wink and an exaggeratedly sympathetic glance at his twin. The policeman rolls his eyes but nods, and with a gruff 'goodnight', continues around the corner.
'Australia?' he repeated, his eyebrows shooting upwards. He could feel a roaring in his ears as he stared at her. His hears hammered in his chest and he felt as if his whole world was getting smaller, compressing in towards him and restricting his oxygen supply.
She watched him carefully.
'What do you think?' she asked softly, sounding almost guilty. What did he think? He thought that he'd never fallen for someone so hard in his life. He thought she deserved that job more than any other witch or wizard. He thought now was not the time to be selfish.
'I think… I think you should say yes,' he said slowly, his stomach feeling cold and sick. He swallowed. All of a sudden, a new range of emotions hit him. He felt as if he'd fallen short. Like he wasn't enough for her. Maybe it was true. Actually, it probably was. Why would she consider leaving if she felt even an inkling of what he felt for her? Disappointment, mostly in himself, flooded his mind and he looked up to meet her wide-eyed gaze levelly.
'After all, there's nothing holding you here.'
'Come on mate, you can't stay here forever.' His brother sits on the bench next to him and looks him in the eye. 'Look at yourself, you're a wreck.'
People talk about the guy
Who's waiting on a girl...
'What if she comes back? She'll come here first, Fred. I know it. She – I don't – I can't take any chances with this girl.' He looks down at his feet and away from his twin's pitying gaze.
There are no holes in his shoes
But a big hole in his world...
'You know, it's almost two in the morning. Come back to the store, I'll make you some hot chocolate. Though I can't promise it will be good. Then you can come back and wait here as long as you want. ... Actually, no, don't come back. Please, mate. Don't let yourself wallow in her pool. She's gone.'
Maybe it was because he was a little distracted by his whole world shattering around him, perhaps it was because he was blinded by the array of emotions that over-whelmed him. But somehow, somehow he missed the tears that clung to her eyelashes as she nodded mutely and turned away.
He takes a deep breath.
'I'm not moving. I can't.' He looks him in the eye, the one boy who had always understood, and wills him to manage it one more time. 'Please, don't make me.'
'What if he comes back?' He asks after a while, nodding in the direction the policeman had gone.
'I'll punch him.'
'No magic. Great. Definitely the most convenient way to do it.'
He manages a small smile. 'I left my wand at the store.'
Fred matches his tired smile. 'Alright. Well, I'll be there – at the store – if you need me. Don't hesitate to come talk or do something else extremely manly. I'll be awake.'
He nods. 'Thanks.'
And he's never meant it more.
Gritting his teeth and praying she believed in the saying 'It's never too late', he spun on the spot. He apparated across the globe to Canberra, Australia.
It had taken him a bloody good while (especially since he spent a good fifteen minutes upon his arrival throwing up because of the time he spent spinning in the Apparation Vortex to get to the other side of the world), but eventually he flung open the doors to the Australian Department of Aurors and strode down the aisles between each separate Auror's cubicle. He collected a large amount of wild looks as he marched deeper into the department. He turned the last corner and stopped as he was suddenly face to face with the Head of Department's Office. He threw open the door and was greeted with nothing but silence.
Hermione Granger stared at him with a folder in her hands from behind her new desk. All around her were boxes, piled high with her belongings.
'Nice place you got here,' he breathed, forgetting to say hi. She stared at him for a long time, confusion clear on her face.
'What are you doing here?' she asked eventually, and he noticed her voice shook.
'I…,' he trailed off as he watched her. She'd only tied up half of her curls today, and the rest splayed across her shoulders beautifully. Merlin, she was so perfect.
'Why'd you have to leave me like that, Hermione?'
Still without a wink of sleep contributing to his sanity, he stares up at the now clearing sky. He groggily lifts an arm and glances at his watch, blearily reading the time: 5:12 am.
White clouds have rolled over from somewhere and are blotting out what was, a few hours ago, a clear night sky. He sighs and rolls his head to the side. An old witch – probably Delilah – is watching him through the panes in her store window. He sits up and twiddles his fingers at her with a most likely drunk-looking smile. She frowns at him and disappears to the back of the lingerie store.
It doesn't matter what she thinks. He isn't moving.
He smirks to himself, thinking:
And maybe I'll get famous as the Man Who Can't be Moved,
And maybe you won't mean to but you'll see me on the news,
'What are you saying?' she asked, sounding hurt and confused. He wished she could just understand. He wished that he hadn't been so stupid three days ago, when she'd first told him that night on his porch. That he'd told her the truth.
'I never wanted you to leave, you know.'
He could see the tears in her eyes now.
'You didn't answer my question. Why are you here?'
He swallowed and moved so that he was directly in front of her, on the other side of the desk.
'These past three days… I couldn't stop thinking about you, Hermione. I –' His voice broke and he saw one lone tear spill down her cheek. Merlin, how that sight hurt him. He swallowed, his throat dry as paper, and continued, 'I'm not sure I can live without you. I'm already going crazy. I know it. I – I need you. I –'
But before he could get those last two words out, there came a noise from an adjoining room and a tall man with brown hair stepped into the room.
'Oi!' he exclaimed in an Australian accent once he saw her, crying silently in front of a disheveled-looking stranger who smelt distinctly of vomit.
'Hermione, are you alright?' he strode towards her and instantly gathered her in his arms, holding her close.
He gritted his jaw as all of a sudden, he understood.
The man glared at him and opened his mouth to speak but he held up a hand.
'It's alright. I'm leaving.'
And you'll come running to the corner...
'Cos you'll know it's just for you.
He rubs his face tiredly, trying but failing to rid himself of his hobo-like appearance. He chuckles softly to himself as he realizes he's just done an all-nighter on a random bench (okay, so maybe not quite random), waiting for a girl who currently has another man on an entirely separate continent. This depressed laugh earns a few startled and frightened looks from the passers-by. He blinks thoroughly and for the first time in hours, stands up, his knees aching.
Cos if one day you wake up and find that you're missing me,
What had he been thinking?
And your heart starts to wonder where on this earth I can be,
Waiting on a bench on the corner of the street is a lost cause.
No matter what he used to think, Hermione Granger is not coming back.
Thinking maybe you'll come back here to the place that we'd meet,
His vision goes blurry and as he blinks to clear it, a burning tear kamikazes down his unshaven cheek.
Absolutely pathetic.
Rubbing his eye sockets fiercely, he continues slowly and quite numbly up the street.
Unable to think, he takes one step at a time. It feels as if he's wearing ear-plugs. There's only a rushing in his ears. Nothing that he sees or hears registers in his mind. Not even the loud POP that erupts a few metres behind, right next to the bench that he'd just occupied.
And you'd see me waiting for you on the corner of the street.
'George!'
He spins around, because that he heard quite clearly. Maybe he was hallucinating. But it sounded so real…
There's no doubt, no confusion in his mind as to who called him; which face he must search for.
And he finds it.
He cannot breathe as he watches her run towards him, tears streaming down her face at an alarming rate. And he can't even open his arms as she launches herself at him.
Lack of food makes sure they stumble back a few steps, but eventually he hits a wall and they both gasp.
'I'm sorry,' she sobs into his neck but he can't say anything. He's quite sure he's in shock. He blinks several times but finds he still can't see. Damn tears.
'He – he's my cousin – I don't know why – I – did you mean it? – you went all that way – I was – so surprised – you look terrible, by the way – almost couldn't recognize you – it's just I can't stop thinking about you – and – I think –'
She continues her ramble but he isn't listening anymore. That rushing noise is back. She's pulled back and he can see her face now; see that she is real.
He lifts a hand and places it on her cheek, his thumb wiping at the tears that continue to fall like the Niagara Falls.
She even feels real.
It is hard, after so long of forgetting how to, but he smiles.
'I've been waiting for you.'
Going back to the corner where I first saw you,
Gonna camp in my sleeping bag not I'm not gonna move.