A/N: This was an answer to a songfic challenge from aikakone at the GROWL forums. The song is "Broken" by Elvis Costello.
He was in the audience again on closing night, one of many people in the crowd with his knees victimized by anxious hands. His fingernails were very long, then, and he was certain that he was causing himself to bleed through the legs of thin trousers, but that was of little importance. She was burning up the stage again in that high-waisted period gown. Whoever would have thought that Shakespeare could be transformed by a single actress?
If I am frightened, then I can hide it.
If I am crying, I'll call it laughter.
He'd been six times already. The moment her mother told him that she'd landed a role, he'd packed a few sets of Muggle clothes from his time in Dublin (odd, he thought, that he had been alone then, too) and hopped a portkey to London. His jacket was dusty, but he didn't pay any attention to it. He wasn't coming for whoever he was to sit by, and she'd never recognize him under the heat of the lights.
He knew, the moment she appeared, that he wasn't going to be returning home as soon as he had promised himself.
If I am haunted, I'll call it my imaginary friend.
If I am bleeding, I'll call it my wine.
He gave her a standing ovation once the thing was over, and joined the rest of the theatre patrons as they bustled out into the night, inhaling cold November air that abruptly formed ice crystals in his lungs. He thought, very briefly, about going back. Perhaps to tell her she was wonderful, perhaps to tell her he was sorry... but the idea was sucked from his head by the presence of his hat, and he simply walked the streets until he found himself too tired to continue on. Upon reaching his room at the hotel, he fell onto a hard mattress and dreamt of that redheaded girl.
The next morning, he drank half a bottle of Scotch and watched a talk-show, only to find that she was burning up the screen, as well. She and that boy, that young boy, were being interviewed on a minor station by a terse-looking woman with her hair pulled back much too tight. He didn't listen to a word anyone said, only watched her hands as she talked. That was always the real attraction, the way her fingers would jump and quiver and point as each word escaped her lips.
She was sitting very far away from that young boy, and he smiled in content at the thought.
But if you leave me then I am broken,
And if I'm broken then only death remains
He came to the theatre again that night, and the next, and the next -- and by the final night he was able to count the seconds before she would walk confidently to her mark and begin that dialogue written hundreds of years ago. He could say each line with her, under his breath and in his head... and he felt the smallest swell of courage with each word. This was his last chance, he knew, to tell her that he came.
He did not leave after the final performance, although it might have been best, and that bravery he had felt was dwindling quickly. But he walked through the lobby, down several different hallways and through a back door that lead to the dressing rooms. Most of the cast had family members or friends surrounding them in thick clouds of love, but she sat at the counter removing her stage make-up with a baby wipe. Not a friend in sight, although there was a rather dead bouquet of roses sitting in a cloudy vase.
If I am drifting, then I can fight it.
If I am sinking, no-one will know it.
She saw him in the mirror and jumped. The wipe fell from her fingers as she whirled around, red curls flying through the air, and for one single moment he was in heaven. She used to do the exact same thing at Grimmauld Place, when she was angry or surprised. She would stand on tiptoe and twirl with all her might and smack her victim firmly in the face with a thick braid... But that was before.
"You were brilliant," he said in that hoarse way he never could get over, and took his fedora in his hands as a nervous occupation. Her eyes were still wide and still brown. Still frighteningly beautiful.
She replied with a breathy "Thank you..."
People were beginning to file out of the area, a couple of actresses he barely recognized nodded their heads in his direction and talked amongst themselves. Eventually, however, they left as well. By the time she said another word to him, they were completely alone and she was visibly shaken.
"I didn't expect you," she said, trying to sound very calm, scooting the chair she formerly occupied into place under the counter. "You have to admit it's a bit of a surprise..."
"I've been listening to the audience," he said. "You've been fantastic. Everyone adores you..."
She traced the outline of the mirror with a delicate white hand -- "Mum says you're living in the country?"
"There was an older couple in the lobby, and they were both very impressed with your talent."
If I am blinded, I'll have my voices still to guide me.
If they yet fled away I'd bless the silence...
She blinked. Her hands remained completely still and he had a very firm grip on his hat. It was happening again, this silence that always seemed to bring about the worst in them. It was absolute agony for each, and he would surely die if it continued -- he would surely die if it were broken, though he longed to end it almost as desperately as he longed to release himself from this obscure prison and touch her face...
Instead, she shattered the atmosphere that so enveloped him and took a small step backwards, saying, "Remus," in her old, terrified little voice. The same one she used all those years ago to call him 'professor'.
Only now it was a different sort of neediness in her tone...
"I sincerely enjoyed your performance," he continued, though he wanted to say I'm sorry I couldn't love you before... "all six nights..." and she drew a great, staggering breath.
"All six nights, Remus?"
"All six nights, Ginevra." a pause. "Ginny. Gin."
"Oh," she whispered. "Oh, oh..."
He caught another portkey back to the country the next morning, clutching at a battered suitcase with his name in peeling letters. He decided it was all he had left.
But if you leave me then I am broken,
And if I'm broken then only death remains...