# Sour Love

Story Teller Sarin

Rating: PG13
Genres: Romance
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 4
Published: 04/05/2003
Last Updated: 28/06/2003
Status: Paused

Harry hasn't seen his love for years. How many years precisley? Seven. He hasn't heard from her in five. So what happens when she returns from her home in America after so long? I'll give you a hint...it's not that nothing changed.

## 1. Saying Goodbye

Disclaimer: The usual, one "I do not own Harry Potter" order please. What’s more to say?

Rating: PG-13

Summary: Harry hasn’t seen his love for years. How many years precisely? Seven. He hasn’t heard from her for five. So what happens when she returns from her home in America after so long? I’ll give you a hint…it’s not that nothing changed.

A/N: I don’t know if this fic will work so I’m just testing it. If you like it review…if you don’t, well don’t. I’ll post this one chapter and if you’re interested and want me to continue with it I’ll do what I usually do: write out plot, characters, etc. and get the rest up bit by bit. Just to let you know…I don’t speak the British part, too hard for a girl from the US.

Sour Love-Chapter One-Saying Goodbye

Dursley Household

A dreadful racket woke the sleeping Harry Potter outside his bedroom window. He pulled his glasses over his dreary green eyes and slipped out of the bed in the small room. The window had nothing on the opposite side besides the other houses and trees along Privet Drive. But below the window was another matter.

There, banging against the house, was a bird. Harry recognized it immediately as Hermes, Hermione’s owl. He fumbled at the lock on the window and pushed it open, letting the frantic creature fly through and smash on the door. He scooped it up and placed it near Hedwig’s cage while he read.

Dearest Harry,

I am sorry to inform you, but I had to say it. I am moving to America to be with my parents. They received letters and are being relocated to New York City. I hope to see you at the London International Airport on the day of my leave. The plane will be taking off August 8th at 11:00 AM in the terminal B23.

Hermes’s getting on in years and isn’t thinking straight much anymore. If you’d be so kind as to send Hedwig along with him to accompany the poor dear back to my house.

All My Love,

Hermione

P.S.-Please tell Ron for me. I couldn’t bare it. I hope to see you both.

Harry nearly dropped the letter in shock, but forced himself to look at the clock instead. The red numbers flickered and changed 12:01. What a way to start his eighteenth birthday.

London International Airport

"Where are we supposed to meet her again?" Harry asked his best friend.

A downcast Ron Weasley looked up, "What?"

"I asked where we supposed to me Hermione." Immediately after he said it Harry knew he shouldn’t have and he bit his lip.

Ron’s face grew solemn indeed, "Hermione. I can’t believe she’s going away after all these years. We’ll never see her again. I’ll never fight with her again. Oh, how I miss those times."

Ron babbled on and Harry rolled his eyes. Ron and Hermione had been dating for two years and then she broke up with him when she said that a long-distance relationship wasn’t any good. He, apparently, was still love-struck.

Hermione’s bushy head popped over the top of the crowd of people and Harry waved. "What's the matter with him?" she asked when she was close enough to speak.

Harry sighed, "I'll give you one guess."

"Oh Ron. I’ve told you before that I just couldn’t handle a relationship from so far away. Remember Viktor? I don’t want to end up like that." Ron just slumped. Hermione had dated Viktor Krum for half a year when he dumped her for a person closer to him. She had been broken for three months before she got over it and asked Ron out at the near end of the fifth term. "Oh well. Goodbye Harry," she kissed him on the cheek and gave him a hug, "Bye Ron," she did the same. Ron ignored her.

"Hermione!" her mom called from the gateway into the tunnel that led to the plane.

Hermione gave each one last, quick hug and ran off. From the door Harry saw her wave and he nudged Ron, who managed a slight smirk. Harry shrugged and waved ‘goodbye’ to his best friend.

After Hermione was out of sight Ron seemed to miraculously get out of his mood and rushed over to the window. He eyed the aircraft with such love that you’d assume he would kiss it if he could. Harry leaned against the wall and watched the plane take off and out of sight.

"Can we go? We’re going to be late," he asked and began pulling Ron by the collar.

"Alright, alright," Ron said and he wrenched from Harry’s grasp. "Late for what?"

Harry eyed him with surprise. "For Quidditch tryouts, stupid."

"Oh yeah. Who are you going for?"

"I’m not going for anybody. I’m going to sit on the sidelines and watch you make a fool yourself." He smiled.

"Not funny."

Tryouts for the Wimbourne Wasps was that afternoon at Hogwarts. When they had reached it, by flight no doubt, it was over-crowded with people anxious for their turns. "I can’t believe we’re back here so soon," Ron said as he looked around the field.

"Me neither."

They waited…and waited…and waited. They waited until the sun sat high above their heads, cooking Ron in his uniform. Finally it was his turn. Harry watched the redhead zoom around and around, showing agility and speed. He watched dives and turns, goals and saves. He watched his life float away with the wind.

He eventually found himself with his other best friend on his mind. Hermione, the one who had saved him countless times, the one who was always there for him, the one who looked out for him. The one he would never see again.

"Are you trying out?" a voice broke his thoughts. Harry looked up; a middle-aged man stood in front of him.

"Huh?"

"Are you trying out?" he repeated, his tone impatient and annoying. Harry thought for a moment, deciding that the best way to keep his mind from surrendering to Hermione’s reminder was to focus on something else. "Sure."

The air was warm and refreshing that day and Harry was glad he was up in the air, doing what he loved best. But he just couldn’t seem to keep Hermione from his mind. "Hey Harry!" Ron called to him, "I thought you were going to sit and watch?" he flew up next to the lad.

"Changed my mind I guess," he said, confused as to why he was really up here himself. "I don’t plan to going into the field though, I like Quidditch more as a ‘take-time-of-the-world’ sport."

"Whatever. You should at least try," Ron pushed.

"Fine. First one to score ten goals wins."

"Deal," he grinned.

The competition raged on, each as good as their opponent. But Ron knew that Harry was holding back, he knew that Harry wanted Ron to have this job, not himself. "Come on Harry! Show me what ya’ got!" He saw a small grin on Harry’s part and began zooming around the stadium once more. They were neck-in-neck, both diving to see who would be better out this sort of thing. Unfortunately for Harry, his mind wandered to Hermione once again.

"Harry! Watch out!" he heard Ron scream from above. Harry shook himself from his disturbing thoughts and looked ahead, the ground was coming in fast. He pulled out of the dive, narrowly missing the green grass below.

"Thanks Ron," he said gratefully.

"No problem. What was with that?"

"Never mind." Ron shrugged. Harry was good at hiding his thoughts from his friends, wanting to be more alone in his life since having the whole wizarding world know your childhood is a little less than private.

They finished with their quick scrimmage and Ron headed into the locker-room to change. Harry, sweating in his regular clothes, decided to take a quick shower when he arrived home. "Mr. Potter!" a voice came from behind him. "Mr. Potter!" Harry recognized it as the voice of the man who asked him if he was trying out to begin with.

The stout man bounded to the youth, clearly exhausted from even such a short jog. Harry raised his eyebrows, wondering what he wanted with him this time. "We were reviewing your performance and…"

"Wait. I didn't even really tryout. I just went up in the air and flew around and…"

"And did a marvelous display of youthful speed and accuracy. As I was saying. We were reviewing your performance and we have decided to give you a shot at professional Quidditch. Would you like to or not?" But before Harry could even say 'no' the man continued. "Of course, it is a once in a lifetime opportunity. Not everyone is chosen right off the back to play Quidditch for a major team. I have to say you are quite the lucky youth. And we are looking for youths of your character to play for us." Harry took note of the fact that this man had a point. He was lucky that they had chosen him right off the back to play. He also noticed the man said 'youth' a lot.

Harry this time didn't let him babble on and on. "All right! I'll play. You've convinced me."

The man smiled, "Great! I'm Stanley Webber, the assistant coach of the Wimbourne Wasps. You can call me Stan." He walked off, smug of having the famous Harry Potter on the team.

Harry felt only partly bad. Stan hadn't convinced him off joining the team, though now that Harry thought about it he was excited, he had only gotten Harry extremely annoyed. He had realized that Stan would only shut up if Harry told him he would play.

But Harry's anxiety turned to doubt soon enough. What if Ron, his best friend and the only one who actually wanted to get on the team, didn't make it? What if they only needed one person? Harry sighed, his life just kept getting more complicated.

"Ready to go?" Ron asked, coming up in front of Harry.

"Yeah. I'm certainly ready to get out of here. I don't care if I've missed Hogwarts. Being here just to watch people tryout for Quidditch isn't much fun. Do you know if you're on the team?"

"No, not yet. They're supposed to send you a letter saying if you get in or not. I can't wait till mine comes." Ron jumped up and down with delight.

Harry laughed uncomfortably. "I hope I don't make it. I mean, I didn't even want the position. I just did it to get my mind off something."

"Really? Like what?"

"Oh…Just stuff. Ya' know, things."

"Mmhmm. Whatever. You know, you aren't very good at lying or hiding things, Potter. Spill it."

"Nothing, really. It's nothing." Ron gave him a disbelieving look. "Seriously. Look, I have to get home. I'm moving out of the Dursleys in a few days and I want to get out as soon as possible. You're going to help right?"

"Yeah, right. When should I drop by?"

"I'll owl you when I'm ready."

"Okay." Ron's face softened. Changing the subject had clearly worked and Ron had totally forgotten about what was making Harry so uneasy. But it wasn't going to be easy to keep up. Sooner or later Ron was going to find out and sooner or later Harry wouldn't be able to deny it anymore.

Dursley Household

Harry didn't bother saying goodbye to his foster parents. His aunt and uncle didn't bother either. He was finally leaving the wretched house, leaving his dreadful life on Privet Drive behind. He was about to burst from happiness; nothing was going to keep him from the wizarding world.

Brooms were obviously out of the question when it came to transportation. Harry had learned to drive a few years back and along with getting his license he was given a car (from who was not known). He suspected it was one of his other relatives, or a friend, or someone in either world. The car was new, a Lexus RX 330. The sports utility vehicle was nice, still smelling of new car. After this time it still had that spell, it amazed Harry.

All the suitcases, boxes, and anything else were shrunken. Magical moving was so much better than the Muggle way. Renting out a huge truck and then unloading it all. Why not just shrink it and save yourself the trouble?

Another perk of having the car was that Harry was moving to London. Plenty of Muggles there, that was for sure. His new apartment was not that far from the Leaky Caldron actually, this eased Harry. A few blocks from his favorite pub and from Diagon Alley is good.

"Ron?"

"Harry?"

They both grinned. It was the dawning of a new light. Sort of. The only problem with this picture was that Hermione was not there to share it. Harry felt himself frown for the millionth time since she left. But Harry was not going to let his best friend, who just happened to be in America at this very moment, spoil his day. Not the day that he was moving away from the Dursleys. But he still found himself frowning, somehow she always found a way to make the best of days seem bad.

The trunk closed, the engine roared, and Harry and Ron drove away from Privet Drive. From Surrey. From the Dursleys. Both found themselves singing, Ron getting in where he could, songs from the radio, happiness filling the room. Life was good.

Sort of.

## 2. IMPORTANT! READ!

A/N: Okay. I guess I'm going to continue with this story. But the next chapter won't be posted for a long time because I have a history project and it's going to take up my entire time. Well, except in school, but I'll be writing it then too. Great. Pray for me. My thing is fifteen chapters long and, if my assumptions are correct, I have six days to write it all! Well…I've taken up enough time writing this so…BYE!

## 3. A New Life

Disclaimer: The usual, one "I do not own Harry Potter" order please. What’s more to say?

Rating: PG-13

Summary: Harry hasn’t seen his love for years. How many years precisely? Seven. He hasn’t heard from her for five. So what happens when she returns from her home in America after so long? I’ll give you a hint…it’s not that nothing changed.

A/N: Sorry a lot of this stuff isn’t according to British law or automotive sense. Remember: U.S.A Girl. Plus: I just finished my History Project a week ago. 26 pages of writing! I went a little overboard yea. So I wasn’t very eager to get back to writing. But I’m healthy again and here’s the continuation.

Sour Love-Chapter Two-A New Life

Harry’s Apartment

"So, you’re all set. Bedroom, living room, kitchen. You even have a lounge. I wish I lived here. My parents are making me stay at home until Ginny gets out of school," Ron complained when he looked around Harry’s apartment.

"Yeah. Why is that?" Harry pondered.

"Because they will curse me if I don’t," Ron groaned.

Harry laughed, "Well that still really doesn’t answer my question. Why would they curse you? There must be a certain reason."

"That’s it. They say I can leave, but if I do they will curse me." Ron shrugged.

"Why would they curse their own son?"

"They think that if I leave them then they won’t be able to pay for Ginny and themselves." He looked down at the dark blue carpet that coated the lounge.

"Well, that’s absurd. No offense to your parents. If they could pay for all nine of you then shouldn’t they be able to pay for just three?"

"I know. I tried explaining it to them, but they just wouldn’t listen. You know, as much as I love them I can’t help but admit that they are a pair of stubborn people."

"At least you have a family. Mine’s dead."

"Well, technically you do have a family. And thankfully you just moved away from them."

"Yeah, I can be grateful for that. Away from the Dursleys…"

"Forever…"

"Free from their shunning…"

"Free from their minds controlled by evil, against magic mud people from outer space."

"What?" Harry asked.

"Hey. It could happen."

"Right," Harry laughed, "You have one strange mind my friend."

Ron grinned, "And I’m proud of it." Harry laughed. "If you don’t need anything else I have to go. Mom and dad are expecting me home for dinner."

"You can go. Thanks for helping."

"You’re welcome. If only Hermione could have been here on this joyous day," Ron said then closed the door.

As Ron left Harry looked around his newly furnished apartment. Well, at least the lounge. It was spacious, but not as large as the adjoining living room and kitchen. The midnight-blue carpet matched perfectly with the deep green couch and chair. There was a mahogany desk with laptop in one corner and in the other there was a mini-bar. Across from the couch there was a glass sliding door leading out to a balcony looking out on London. On the balcony there was a small table with two patio chairs under a slanting roof.

He wandered into the living room. The carpet changed from the dark blue of the lounge to a cream color. The white couch and loveseat matched the walls painted with streaks of varies shades of peach. Facing the couch was a television set, including cable box and DVD player. There was also a bookshelf, surprising as it was. It was full of mystery and adventure books one would find an eighteen year-old reading.

Without a wall between them was the kitchen. A small bar coming out of the wall was used as a table. It was your average kitchen, a stove, table tops holding numerous household items, tiled floor, microwave, cupboards above, and next to the refrigerator in a small nook was the door.

Down an extremely short hallway was the bathroom. Once again average. A shower/bath tub, a sink, a cabinet, and, of course the toilet. All in a white-walled, tiled, cramped room.

Across the peach-carpeted hallway was the one and only bedroom. It had midnight-blue carpeting and white walls, just like the lounge. It also had a miniature balcony with glass sliding doors facing the dark-green queen-sized bed. A nightstand, a dresser, and a closet. It was the perfect average place to live. Any Muggle coming in here would have a hard time figuring out that Harry was magical. Yes, everything was perfect; he just had to find a place to put the trunk that would blow that one microscopic detail that would ruin his life.

The Burrow

Ron sat, fiddling with the food on his dinner plate. He sighed and scooped up some mashed potato, swallowing it, and sighed again. "What’s wrong, dear?" Mrs. Weasley asked, looking at her sorrowful son.

"Nothing," Ron replied and went back to twirling around the green beans with his fork.

"I’m sure it’s nothing." Ron smiled inwardly, grateful that for once his parents didn’t pester him about what was troubling his life. "And I’m sure that you father is going to become a servant of the Dark Lord," she added sarcastically, "Now tell me what’s wrong."

"I helped Harry move into his new home today."

"Yes, we know that. But that can’t be the thing that’s troubling you."

"Think about it, dear," Arthur came in, "It could very well be. We aren’t letting him get out of the house for another year."

"That’s true." She looked back to Ron who still had his head down towards the extremely large, yet empty table. Ginny was staying over at her friend, Victoria Davis, house tonight. "But there is still something wrong and I want to know. It’s Hermione again, isn’t it?"

Ron acknowledged the answer with a shrug. "Maybe."

"Ron, you have to get over her. She owls you doesn’t she? She stays in touch. Maybe you should visit her sometime." Ron’s face lit up at the thought of being able to see Hermione again. "Of course you would have to earn the money yourself. That’s the only catch." His face slumped back down and he brought plate over the sink so it could wash then went up to his bedroom.

"Being able to see Hermione would be the highlight of my life. But I have to pay for it? And what about Harry? Should I bring him or not?" he turned over and closed his eyes for a quick nap, his mind rattling on the subject of seeing Hermione.

Harry’s Apartment

Harry awoke from his nap on the couch in his lounge to a loud tapping at the door. He opened his dreary eyes to see a brown owl beating at the glass. He wondered whose owl it could be. The owl swooped in as Harry opened the door, landing on the mini-bar. It dropped a letter and sat there a little bit, then flew off again.

Harry looked at the door where the owl had flown through to the sky, confused at why it would drop a letter, look at him strangely, and then just leave. He brushed it off and opened the letter. His face broke into grin that reached his ears, it was from Hermione. He flopped down in the chair.

Dearest Harry,

I hope this letter finds you well. I have bought a new owl, as you no doubt have seen, and I decided to test him by sending you a letter. You might not be all too pleased with this letter with the reminder of my previous one, but I assure this is nothing of the sort.

School here in America is great. I have made new friends and even have some new hobbies. Here they are very eager in the sports area and I have found that I am good at swimming. Although some are not as kind as I’d like them to be, I have found a few good friends who I have become very close to. But I don’t think that they’ll ever be as close to my heart as you and Ron are.

New York is the greatest. I have been taken out shopping, have gotten my hair done differently (it’s no longer bushy let’s say), and I was up in the Statue of Liberty just last week! I wish you guys could be here with me. I miss you and Ron so much. But who knows, I might see you soon anyway. My parents’ job is going great, too. We really have gotten settled in here.

Well, this letter was mostly to check up on you. So how is life away from the Dursleys? I bet you’re happy to be away from them finally. I wonder…Never mind. You don’t want to hear how my life is going any more.

It’s time for me to go. I’m going out to a club with some friends in a couple minutes and they should be here soon. I’ll owl you some more. Bye.

All My Love,

Hermione

Harry immediately took out a pen and paper. He told Hermione everything that had happened, which wasn’t a lot. That he wished he could see her, too. And he wanted to here more about her life in New York City.

After sending it along with Hedwig he sat out on the porch. He wondered what Hermione thought he didn’t want to hear. But he asked about that, too, so hopefully he would find out. He couldn’t wait until her next letter. He decided to sleep off the question.

Life was good. He had Ron, he had Hermione (sort of), he was living his own life, and, most importantly, he was living his own life away from the overpowering Dursleys. Yes, life was good. And it would stay that way for a long time. But not forever. No, nothing lasted forever.

A/N: Sorry, I forgot to put this in last time. I think. Wait…Let me check. Nope, didn’t put it in. Oh well, must have forgot. I have a bad memory, I think. Maybe I don’t. I can’t remember. Anyway. Thanks to all you who have read it and reviewed it. And even more special thanks to those of you who liked it and came back for this chapter. I’m sorry it took me so long to post this chapter. I got out of school six days ago and have been spending a lot of my time writing my novel for I have cured my writer’s block "THANK THE GODS!!!" Oh and the part with me just getting my history project done a week ago, that was from a week ago so technically I finished it two weeks ago. But that wasn’t needed to be known and I bet it confused you. I’m not sure when the next chapter with be up. Until we read again…

## 4. Ditched and Dumped

Disclaimer: The usual, one "I do not own Harry Potter" order please. What’s more to say?

Rating: PG-13

Summary: Harry hasn’t seen his love for years. How many years precisely? Seven. He hasn’t heard from her for five. So what happens when she returns from her home in America after so long? I’ll give you a hint…it’s not that nothing changed.

A/N: So it didn’t take as long as I thought it would. I’m working on writing one chapter for every book I have (that’s four). And then there’s the one I haven’t started yet, but I’ll get to that when I finish one of my others. Don’t want to be too swamped before I start high school *nervous shudder*. But I’m working on it. No fears.

Sour Love-Chapter Three-Ditched and Dumped

Le Café De Ciel-7: 34pm (yes the time is important) Seven Years Later

"He’s late," a young girl around the age of twenty-four thought as she looked around the outside of the French restaurant in London. "Where the hell is he? He was supposed to be here thirty-four minutes ago. If he isn’t here in six minutes I’m leaving!" she growled, glancing around the street for any sign of her date.

The minutes passed and there was still no sign of him. "Ditched! I’ve been ditched!" she exclaimed, not aware of the words actually protruding from her overly-glossed mouth. People around stopped to look at her and she blushed, letting out a less-than-confident laugh.

She glanced at her watch again, 7: 42. She had over-gone her promise. He should have been there. "And I thought it would be a nice change. You’d think that going out with him would be better than this. A ‘perfect gentleman’ they all say, the ‘best man I’ve seen in years’! HA!" she complained as she marched down the street in her red dress and matching high-heeled shoes. More people looked at her as she stomped through, a whole conversation going on in her head.

A taxi came ‘round and she slumped in, letting it take her to a club nearby. She trudged in and her temper was washed away as the music reached her ears. She always adored this club, the Chequers Inn. It was a great place to meet men, considering that most of the people who came there were men.

But as she looked around to see if any of her friends had come there this night, her anger rose up again. Her hands at her sides, balled into fists, one clutching her red purse, she stormed over to the bar. She slapped the purse over his head, "HARRY JAMES POTTER!"

Chequers Inn-7: 00pm

"Hey Harry, what are you doing here?" Ron asked as he stepped up to his best friend at the bar. "Aren’t you supposed to be on that date with that one girl?"

"Yeah. I just wanted a break. I only get this month off from Quidditch and I never realized before how much work I’d have to put into it."

"So you ditched the date with what’s-her-name to come here and get drunk?" he said as he gestured to the bottle of beer in front of Harry.

"It’s just that one bottle. I didn’t feel like going out in expensive clothes and eating at that nice restaurant with Samantha Whitney. I don’t even really like the girl."

"But you slept with her," Ron said smirking, "She was a nice catch as I heard."

"I was drunk and stupid. And then…"

"Then you asked her out. That’s a great tale to tell your children. ‘I met your mother at a bar while I was drunk’. Real romantic."

"Like I said."

"You still shouldn’t have blown her off. Why don’t you just go? You’ll only be a couple minutes late." Harry shook his head and laid it down on the counter. "You have gone out on plenty of dates and they all…"

"They’ve all gone terribly bad. Face it. I’m meant to live alone."

"Fine," Ron said, ending the conversation.

"How’s it going with you and Luna?"

"Don’t even go there."

"Why? What happened?"

"She keeps saying that I’m away too much. She doesn’t think it’ll work."

"Well, she right that we’re away a lot. But that doesn’t mean it won’t work. Why don’t you go see her tonight? Patch things up, ya’ know."

This time it was Ron’s turn to say no. "I kinda agree with her."

"Why? You two got along great."

"Yeah, but, I am away too much to hold a steady relationship."

"Oh well, that holds up so much hope for me. If you haven’t noticed by now, Ron, I live the same life as you. We both play for Puddlemere remember?"

"Okay. Okay. You’ve made your point," he said before he gave Harry the chance to continue. "So, you think you have enough time to make it there before she beats you over the head?"

Harry checked his watch, 7:30. "Nope."

"Ah well, can’t win ‘em all."

"So true. Want a beer?"

"Why not? I could use a drink."

"I’ll pay."

"Okay."

They sat at the bar drinking and talking, careful not to actually get drunk. The crowd around them thickened so much that it was almost impossible to see the dance floor.

"That sucks," Ron finally piped up.

"What?" Harry asked, intrigued as to what the red-head meant.

"You can’t see the girls," he gestured at the floor.

"Ron," Harry punched his arm, "You have a girlfriend."

"Not for long," he confessed grinning.

Harry shook his head. "If you want your relationship to continue, by all means, go out and dance with some hot girl and pray that Luna comes in to see you freak-dancing with another girl."

Ron glared. "Are you kidding? Luna’s off in Ireland."

"What’s she doing there?"

"Visiting her grandparents. She only has them left as grand-anything. She said she’ll be back here tomorrow."

"So you’ll see her then?"

"Looks like it."

"Well, in that case, I’m not stopping you."

Ron glanced off and looked around the club, searching for some lonely dame to go and cheer up. He tapped Harry on the shoulder, "We’ve got company."

But Harry didn’t pay attention. Not until there was a loud tapping of shoes on the hard floor, the pain in the back of his head, and a sour voice yelling, "HARRY JAMES POTTER!" Harry winced as his name was used in such a way, making it sound vile and dirty.

"I’ll be out on the dance floor," Ron said as he scuttled away.

Harry turned his attention to her. Her short blonde hair was done nicely in curls, the red dress she was wearing clung to her every curve, and her face let off an emotion of hatred. He smiled a fake smile, "Nice to see you, Samantha."

"Don’t ‘nice to see you’ me. You were supposed to meet me fifty minutes ago at Le Café De Ciel and you NEVER SHOWED UP! So I come here and find you at the bar with your friend, instead of there with me!" her voice rose, getting glances from people around them.

Harry was never so embarrassed in his life. He wanted to scuttle away just as Ron had, but he couldn’t do that. "Um…I’m sorry?"

Samantha threw up her hands. "I give up. They said you were nice, they said you were a gentleman, but you aren’t. You’re just a…a…GRRRR!!!" and she plodded off, her high-heels clicking once again on the hard, wooden floor.

Harry let out a breath he hadn’t even known he had held. "Is she gone?" Ron asked as he came back, apparently having listened to the conversation.

"Yeah."

"You know what? I think you just became single…once again."

"You know what? I’m glad I am."

"Good. Now, I’ve found a couple of ladies who would love to meet the man who just got dumped," he smiled and pointed towards a couple of women out on the dance floor. They waved and began dancing again. "So let’s go."

"You really need to get your priorities straight. You have a girlfriend need I remind you?"

"Yes, but as I said before Luna’s in Ireland and that miles from here. So we are free to be us, even if it’s just for tonight.’

"Okay," Harry complied hesitantly. Ron took hold of his elbow and pulled him towards the women.

"Okay Harry, this is Rachel," he said and a stunning girl with curly, auburn hair, chestnut eyes, and milky skin that hosted a strapless black dress cut just above the knees, nodded and smiled. Harry had to admit, she was pretty, somehow he just couldn’t enjoy himself.

Harry smiled none the less, "Hello."

"And this," Ron said, wrapping his arm around a girl with short, black hair and red streaks, ice-blue eyes, and a black, spaghetti-strapped belly-shirt and black, long skirt, "This is Christina."

She grinned at him and they walked away. Harry was about to stop him, not wanting to be left alone with someone he didn’t know, but was restrained as Rachel began talking. "You aren’t going to have much fun, are you?"

Harry was caught by surprise of the question. "Why wouldn’t I? I’m here aren’t I?" But he could tell that she knew he was lying, she looked at him disbelievingly. "Ok, no, not really."

"That’s what I thought. How about we just do what we want and act like we’re having fun. If Ron comes back I’ll…I’ll…I’ll come get you okay?"

"Okay," Harry smiled. At least she was in the same boat as he was. They parted and Harry sat at an unoccupied table.

Over at the opposite end of the club a girl sat with some newly-found friends. She noticed the lonely man at the table and decided to go cheer him up. She couldn’t help it. Being inconspicuous was not who she was any more. She just had to talk to him.

A/N: I’m sure that you’ve all guessed by now who the mystery woman is right? Yes, this chapter was longer than most, but oh well. I can’t help how much I write. At most I’ll get the next two chapters up before I leave for Europe. I’m going to London as well as other places so I should be able to get some insight. Chequers Inn is a real club in London. I’m not quite sure where precisely, but I didn’t have any good club names in mind so I found one. Next chapter you’ll find out who the girl is and what Hermione’s been doing for the past seven years. Oh and…this day is Harry’s birthday, just not mentioned. He turned 25, okay?