Hey guys! Well, I'm a huge movie person, and one movie that I love is Alex & Emma. So, I've decided to write a fic based on the movie. Enjoy! And please review!

The Making of a Novel

BAM, BAM, BAM, came the pounding of a heavy fist on Harry Potter's rotting wood door to his dingy apartment. Immediately his black mop of hair appeared over the top of the couch he had been napping peacefully on.

"Potter! We've got business with you! Get out here!" boomed an all-too-familiar Irish voice.

"Awww, crap," Harry whispered. He thought a moment before his eyes lit up. "Hide!"

Harry's lanky limbs jumped into action, carrying him over the back of the couch and all around the small apartment, locking the door, and then looking for a place to hide while he mumbled to himself and the pounding on the door continued.

"The bathroom! No…the loft…no, not that…THE CLOSET!"

He skidded to a halt outside his tiny closet, wrenched open the door, and stuffed himself in amid the old, smelly jumpers and jackets, just as his front door burst open under the weight of two large, sweaty Irish rogues.

"Mr. Potter…," one of them sang. "Come out, Mr. Potter…we're just here to…finish a little…business." As he said business, he yanked open the door to the closet, and light flooded in, illuminating Harry sitting on a large box of who-knows-what.

"Mr. O'Connor!" Harry exclaimed, addressing the larger of the two. "I was just…looking for an old jumper…ah! Here it is!" He reached up and grabbed the jumper nearest him, but Mr. O'Connor's partner reached in and grabbed a fistful of Harry's t-shirt, pulling him out fast and hard. He threw him against the kitchen counter.

"Mr. Potter," Mr. O'Connor started. "You still owe us money. Where is it?"

"I'll get it to you, I promise!! I just need a bit more time, that's all!" Harry tried to explain, his breathing shallow from the kitchen counter knocking the air out of him.

"Well, I think we've given you enough time." Mr. O'Connor nodded to his partner and they both picked up Harry by the armpits and carried him over to the window, Harry squirming and yelling the whole way. They sat him on the railing outside his window and lowered him so they were holding his legs and he was hanging over the side. Harry felt he was about to throw up, seeing the streets of London swing around like that so far underneath him.

"There's nothing but street and pavement! No balconies or awnings!" he exclaimed. He lifted his head to look at the two men holding his life in their hands. "I'm almost done with the story, I swear!!"

"How close?" Mr. O'Connor asked.

"Very, very close. So close it's ridiculous!"

Mr. O'Connor nodded and the two men lifted him up. "Show us," he demanded.

Harry started edging over to the table with his laptop on it, getting as far from the window as possible. "Well, an author doesn't like to show his work until it's completely done…"

"Show us."

Harry sat down at the table with his laptop and lowered the top of the laptop. "Really, I don't like showing it. But it's almost done, I swear."

Mr. O'Connor leaned down in Harry's face. "Show us," he demanded, his voice low and dangerous. He lifted the lid of the laptop. "Is this where you write?"

"Yes…"

"Show us."

Harry sighed. "I'm not as close as I said."

"How close are you?"

Harry shook his head. "Not even one sentence. It's just a little writer's block, should go away soon…"

Before he could finish, he was hanging out his 4th story window again, begging for mercy.

"Please! Just give me a little time!! 30 days! That's all I ask, 30 days!!" he begged, praying for any sort of mercy from them.

The two men looked at each other and Mr. O'Connor nodded. "Alright. 30 days. But that's all. If you don't have the money then…"

"I know, I know…," Harry drew his finger along his neck. Then men brought him back up, and then left with one last warning look at Harry. Harry sank down on his couch.

"How am I gonna finish a whole book in 30 days?!"