Author's Note: This is basically Casablanca, substituting Rick and Laslow and all them with Harry, Ron, and Hermione. The plot is different (duh, what would Harry, Ron, and Hermione be doing in North Africa in the 1940's during muggle WWII?) and I just used Diagon Alley as the name because… if you pronounce it Digon Alley, the syllables match the syllables in the word Casablanca. Very romantic, I know ;). I got the idea when watching (duh) Casablanca in a history video class. I was just watching it and I thought, "Gosh, Harry would make a perfect Laslow," and that's where the idea spawned. Lol. Spawned. Mutated. Whatever. Ok I'll shut up. No wait! If you've seen Casablanca, it'll be obvious who's who. If not, it doesn't really matter, but I suggest you go watch THE MOST FAMOUS ROMANCE MOVIE EVER!!!!!!!! Thank you. Oh yeah! And bear with me for the first bit; it's spelling things out for you.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything! All credit goes to it's do… creators, and the only thing I did was smash two stories together, figure out how to make it work that way, and put it into words. Thank you, thankyouverymuch!
~*~*~
Ron sat lazily in his chair in the pub he had started in Ireland. It was more like a wizard nightclub, but being in Ireland, it was naturally considered a pub. Ron's, it was called. Not very creative, but it was the most happening pub within miles. Besides having an extremely successful pub and being extremely well off for the first time in his life, Ron was heartless. Not to say he was cold, - well, he was, actually- but he had lost his heart in London, they said. No one knew to whom it was lost, and no one knew any details, either. No one, that is, except Neville. Ron's right hand man, his buddy. Neville played the piano-as well as the saxophone and singing- every night at Ron's. He was good, too. So good he was handed splendorous offers every other night. Of course, he never took them up. He was very happy at Ron's, though, thank you very much. He was the only one Ron actually trusted, and would never abandon his friend anyway.
"I've already got more money than I know what to do with here," he would always reply to an offer thrown at him. Ron had known Neville forever- they had gone to school together as children, and then met years afterwards. Ron was surprised to discover that clumsy, forgetful, blundering Neville was now a fantastical nightclub performer. While he forgot passwords and ingredients for potions at school, he never forgot a single note he played. Unlike the rest of his life, he was coordinated and skilled with his instruments and voice. Confident, even. No. That wasn't right. Confident, especially. But not in an annoying, overbearing kind of way. Neville had found his calling with music. It was Neville who had made- but no, Ron didn't want to go there.
Ron's other old friend from school, Harry, had become a strong activist for the rights of half-bloods and muggle born wizards. He fought those in the Ministry of Magic who weren't fond of the likes, and had become quite unpopular with half of the wizard population. With the other half, though… quite the opposite. The fame he had always had was now tripled, because he was HARRY POTTER: boy who defeated you-know-who once and for all, and an agitator for half-muggles and muggle borns. Defeating you-know-who had spurred many of Voldemort's followers into a rage; the laws regarding those of muggle descent had become increasingly unfair. So, of course, noble Harry Potter had fought those laws. The Minister of Magic, Cripyle Monagus, had put a large price on Harry's head. He was a wanted man. Monagus was, obviously, a strong believer that those of muggle descent were unequal. Wizard schools all over London were now filled with pureblood wizards only, and the muggle-borns were forced to stay home. Ron, too, had fought the anti-muggle-born laws, but was not as well known as Harry. After he had lost his heart, he lost all feeling and escaped capture by sneaking to Ireland and opening a pub. After Graduation at Hogwarts, Ron hadn't seen Harry. Besides reading the papers, he had no idea what was going on with Harry.
Ron's condition was spiraling downwards continually. He had no cares, no feelings, no emotions. "I wouldn't put my neck out for nobody," he always said calmly. "I'll care for me and let everyone else care for themselves.". The government in Ireland was slowly copying the English trend of anti-muggle-born feelings. Ron, though, didn't care. He talked with politicians, policemen, army men (when need be). He really would've rather avoided everyone altogether, maybe save Neville.
Because Ron's was such a popular spot on the tiny isle of Ireland, it was perfect for those agitators working secretly underground like Harry. Ron knew this, but really didn't care. Ryan, another friend of his, sold exit visas (which was illegal without the consent of the government). He didn't tell the Irish Ministry what Ryan was doing, but had made it clear that if he was caught, he wouldn't do anything to stop them from taking him to jail.
Presently, Neville was playing 'The Very Thought of You' and singing to a group of swing-dancing witches. Ron sat quietly, watching the happy club-goers with no emotion. At that time, Ryan made his way up to him.
"How's business?" the small, excitable Irishman asked briskly. Ron looked around slowly.
"Booming, as usual." He said with a dull expression. Ryan laughed, a booming sound surprising for a man so small.
"Only 25 and already used to the money rolling in," he said. "Anyway, the reason I came to talk to you, Ron-"
"And there always is one. What do you want?" he asked cynically. Ryan shook his head sadly.
"You do make yourself rather stiff and unfriendly, like. Love done you bad, I'd say." Ryan said smartly. Ron just stared at him.
"Well? What do you want?" he snapped, stopping a waiter and grabbing a martini off his tray. Ryan sighed and continued.
"Well, you know I've got to do my part with this rebellion. Got to keep the business rolling. Mind you, it's not as prophet worthy as yours. I'd just like to know if anyone's come in here looking for some exit visas to France." He said, sighing. "One of the only places left with common sense. The French know blood doesn't matter…"
"I'd keep your voice down if I was you, Mallow. Got government men swarming the place. And no, no one's asked for a visa lately." Ron said. Ryan nodded.
"Oh, but there might be soon! I hear Harry Potter's escaped London for a bit to fight laws here in Ireland! He's coming to Cork, Ron. And this being the best nightclub/pub for miles…we could be seeing him in here. I hear he's wanting two exit visas, for himself and a lady friend, to France. To reorganize, find agitators there to bring back to London for an all-out war!" Ryan looked about to burst with happiness. For once failing to keep the surprise off his face, Ron stared at him.
"Harry Potter! When's this celebrity supposed to be coming to Cork?" he asked. Ryan grinned.
"Yesterday! Word is, he's coming here tonight!" At this, Ryan shook his hand and scurried out the back door, most likely coming back that night. Ron sat and thought silently. It would be strange seeing his old friend again. Maybe it would even remind him of her- that lying trash.
~*~*~*
let me fall; let me cry
someone I am is waiting for courage
I won't heed your warnings
I won't hear them
holding on to no one
you can hold me only if you, too, will fall
so let me fall if I must fall
Author's Note2: Let Me Fall is by Josh Groban. Who can sing, damn it! I'm a little worried that the first part of this is a little too boring, but trust me, IT GETS BETTER! Much! Romance is in the next one. A flashback. To Ron's heartbreaking by the "lying trash". And also, I wanted to make it known (for avid Casablanca fans, like myself) that this is based loosely on Casablanca. So no flames on that, k? Constructive criticism welcomed, as well as compliments ;)