Diagon Alley

DIAGON ALLEY.

OR A BLATANTLY RIPPED OFF FANFIC BY ALEX.

NOTE:

This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling, various publishers, including but not limited to; Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, as well as Warner Brothers Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

This fan fiction is based on the Working Title film, Notting Hill, written by Richard Curtis and directed by Roger Michell. It is intended as an homage to this work, and no infringement is intended.

HARRY'S BOOKSHOP.

"Do you have any Dickens?"

Harry looked up. He had been writing in the old ledger he and Seamus used to keep their accounts spick and span.

"Um, no," he said. "This is ... er ... this is a ... er ... specialist bookshop. We only sell spell books."

"Oh."

The customer looked around. Shafts of bright summer sunlight were falling through the leaded windows, backlighting dust motes as they pirouetted, dancing intricate ballets in the still air.

"Got any Winnie the Pooh?"

Harry gave him a funny look. "No," he said. "Like I said. Only spell books."

"Oh." The man left the shop.

Harry went back to doing the accounts. Fifty Galleons, less twenty Galleons for stock, less ten Knuts for the broken mug ... the money didn't exactly roll in, but there was comfortably enough for him to live on.

He scribbled the figures down in the margin, and looked up just as the bell hanging above the shop door tinkled.

Harry could've sworn he knew the customer from somewhere. He was a man of about Harry's age, wearing a sleek, black, ankle-length leather jacket. His blond hair was cropped close, and he was wearing a pair of sunglasses which he hadn't removed.

"Can I help you at all?" Harry found himself asking.

"No ... no ... I'll just look around," the customer said. He disappeared behind one of the shelves. Try as he might, Harry simply could not place him. Perhaps it was someone he knew from school.

The customer came back round, pausing at the shelf directly in front of Harry's counter. Slim, well manicured fingers selected a book, seemingly at random, and pulled it out.

Harry never really knew exactly what made him blurt out what he blurted out. "Um ... that one's not actually very good. If you're into Middle-Eastern practice, then I can recommend this one," he picked up the book that was lying next to him. "This one is actually ... um ... much better ... there're some very amusing anecdotes in it."

The customer removed his sunglasses.

"Then again you might ... not be ... interested in anecdotes. Um. Much," Harry said, as he recognised the man.

Draco Malfoy took a step nearer the counter. "I think I'd like this one," he said, holding the original book.

Harry's wand was glowing bright green. He gave a start, and peered round the corner into the back room. There was someone browsing in there.

"Excuse me one minute," Harry said absent-mindedly. He stepped out from behind the counter, and came round.

The man in the back room looked up at the sound of his footsteps.

"Um," Harry began, "awfully sorry to bother you ... but I in fact have surveillance charms up ... and a mirror ... right there." He pointed to it. "So I did in fact see that book that you have ... um ... stuffed down your trousers."

"I don't have a book stuffed down my trousers."

"Well ... you do ... have a book stuffed down your trousers," Harry repeated.

"What if I don't?"

"Well ... then how about I call the police," Harry said, "keep you in the shop, and if there isn't a book stuffed down your trousers, than I'll have to apologise for the ... er ... book trousers confusion ..."

"Or ..."

"Or I can turn around, and you can take the book out of your trousers, and either ... wipe it down and put it back, or ... er ... buy it."

Harry turned away. Malfoy was standing next to the counter, looking a little impatient.

"Sorry about that," Harry said. "Can I help you at all?"

"Well," Malfoy said. "I was going to stuff this book down my trousers and walk out with it, but I think I might be persuaded to part with some cash."

Harry slipped back behind the counter. Malfoy handed him the book and a Magical Express card, and Harry was just about to swipe the card with his wand, when the would-be-shoplifter sidled up to them.

"'Scuse me," he said.

Malfoy looked round.

"Can I have your autograph?"

Malfoy nodded. "Sure ..."

"It's not for me ... for the wife," the wizard said.

Malfoy was patting the pockets of his jacket up and down. "I don't appear to have a pen ..."

Harry handed one over, and Malfoy proceeded to sign a slip of paper.

"Thanks ... thanks ..."

Malfoy replaced the quill on the counter, and Harry swiped the card, talking as he did so.

"I see you decided to go with that one," he said. "Still ... if you want the other one ... it really is much better and ..."

"I'm quite happy with that one," Malfoy said coldly. But he was smiling, too. Harry's heart melted into a puddle at his feet.

"... hell ... you can have that one for free ..."

Harry shoved the other book into a carrier bag - he wasn't quite sure what made him do it - he wasn't really sure of anything, at that moment, except for the fact that he appeared to have Draco Malfoy ... actually in his shop ... in the flesh ...

"Thanks," said Malfoy, tucking the credit card away.

"Well ... do ... come again," Harry blurted out. "Our door's always open ... not literally, of course ..." he trailed off.

Malfoy slipped his sunglasses back on.

"Thank you," he said. He turned, and left the shop. The bell tinkled again as the door banged shut, and Malfoy disappeared off down Diagon Alley.

For a couple of minutes, Harry just stood there, quite unable to breathe.

The bell rang again as Seamus came back in. He was holding a cardboard carrier, with two steaming cups of coffee in it.

"What's the matter?" he asked upon catching sight of Harry. "You look like you've seen a ghost?"

"Nothing ..." said Harry. "You'll never guess who was just in here."

Seamus handed him his coffee. "Cappuccino, just like you asked. So ... who was it? Have you fallen in love, Harry Potter? Was it someone famous?"

"No," Harry lied hastily. "No ... just ... just someone I knew, once ..."

Seamus drained his coffee in one gulp. "Wouldn't it be great, though?" he said. "If someone famous did come in here?"

"Yeah ... yeah," said Harry. He motioned to Seamus' empty coffee cup. "Fancy another, do you? My treat."

Seamus smiled. "Ooh ... I'll be a devil. Get me some pumpkin juice."