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Sour Love by Story Teller Sarin
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Sour Love

Story Teller Sarin

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?