A/N: Hey all! Here's the next chapter, finally. Sorry about the wait guys, but lately I've been so bogged down with work! Not only do I have homework, and a test or essay every day of the week, but now I'm working on college applications, and…well, it's hectic. I have no time for anything else. Except this! So you should feel loved, cause any time I do squeeze out of all that, I spend writing this and my other story, so…yeah, that's it. Anyway, I hope you like this one, and I'm already working on the next one, so it should be up sooner than this one was, all right? Enjoy and make sure to review when you've finished!

Lauren

Disclaimer: I'm far too busy to try to be JK. She doesn't have to apply to college, lucky bitch. Oh well. Who needs college when you're one of the richest women alive? Yeah, I wouldn't either. Humph.

Chapter Six

Letting Go and Losing Ground

Ding dong…

Hermione's finger was hovering in front of the small, white doorbell she'd just pressed, her feet firmly planted on the concrete steps below her. She took a deep breath, lowered her hand, gripped her handbag tightly, and heard footsteps approaching the door. She smiled as it slowly swung open.

"Hermione! It's so good to see you, we didn't think you were coming!"

A pair of warm arms enveloped her, pulling her inside. She shut the door behind her with her foot before being dragged into the living room.

"Dad, it's good to see you too. Happy birthday," she said, pulling back to peck him on the cheek. He took a good look at her and pulled her into another hug. Hermione closed her eyes tightly and smiled, glad to see her father again.

"Well, hello, Hermione," came a cold voice from behind her. Hermione snapped her eyes open and turned around.

"Oh, Clara…hello."

Sitting in front of her was a very beautiful woman by the name of Clara, Hermione's old neighbor, and, before Hogwarts, a very good childhood friend. She was Hermione's age, same build, though slightly taller, and had long blonde hair that clung to her shoulders. Her hazel eyes were sharp and cruel, and were, at the moment, glaring at Hermione chillingly.

"So good to see you after all these years, Hermione," Clara stated as she rose form her seat, pronouncing each of the syllables in Hermione's name succinctly. Hermione eyed her icily, then looked at her father, wondering what in the world had convinced him that would be a good idea.

"It's great to see you too, Clara."

"Oh, come on now, girls. You used to be the best of friends, what happened?" her father asked, stepping in and grabbing each of their shoulders. Clara and Hermione exchanged looks.

"Dad, that was years ago, we…we grew apart, and well, people change, and—"

"Don't be ridiculous! I'm sure after you two talk, it'll be just like old times!" he said optimistically.

"Dad, we were nine, it was before I left and became…you know," she said, lowering her head.

"Nonsense, you'll be fine. It's so nice of her to come and visit, isn't it? Clara lives in New York now, working hard and earning good money. And she's got a nice family and everything. She came just for my birthday, didn't you Clara?"

"Yeah," she said, nodding sullenly. Hermione broke free and sat down on the couch.

"So dad, I brought you a gift, would you like to open it?" She pulled her bag from her shoulder and removed a box from it. Her father took a seat next to her and took the box from her hand.

"Oh, wonderful! Season passes to see the Barons! That's wonderful!" he exclaimed, reaching over and hugging his daughter. Clara, who had taken a seat in a chair nearby, scowled.

"Well, I know how much you love to see Don play, so I thought it was appropriate."

"Hmm, I see originality doesn't prevail when thinking of gifts, hmm?" Clara said smoothly, pulling out her own gift.

"Here's a gift from me and David, and here's something from the kids," she said, handing him a small box and a few sheets of paper. He unfolded the paper and smiled, looking at hand-drawn cards from Clara's five- and six-year-old children back in New York. Then he opened the box and found a pair of gold antique cufflinks. Hermione rolled her eyes. Always trying to outdo me…

"Oh, Clara, these are beautiful, where did you find them?"

"Uh-uh, I'm keeping that a secret!" she exclaimed, giving Hermione a small wink. Hermione growled to herself. Just then, the phone rang.

"Oh, I'll get it," Clara said, jumping out of her seat and making herself become important. As soon as she'd left the room, Hermione rounded on her father.

"What is she doing here? It's supposed to be just you and me, I didn't know she was coming! What, Christmas and Thanksgiving just weren't enough? What gave you the great idea to invite her anyway?"

"I didn't, sweetheart, I didn't plan it. She just called and said she was in the area, and that she wanted to see me for my birthday. What was I supposed to do, turn her down?" Hermione crossed her arms, thinking it didn't sound too bad to her. "You and she used to be the best of friends, you grew up together, there was no way I could deny her. I suggest you just make the best of it and try to be nice."

Just then, Clara walked back in, a smug grin on her face, and reclaimed her seat across from Hermione's father.

"That was Don, what a wonderful guy! He's just so polite, we just had the most wonderful conversation about—"

"That's great, Clara, did he say why he called?" Hermione interrupted. Clara huffed a sigh and turned to face her.

"Yes, Hermione, he called to say he's coming home early from his trip and he'll meet you at home later tonight. All right? Anyway," she said, turning back toward Mr. Granger, "he mentioned having stayed in Scotland, and I just had to tell him about the time I visited when—"

"Jesus, Clara, get off it! I'm sure whatever he said couldn't have been that impressive, it's not like he's all that interesting!" Hermione shouted, tossing her arms in the air. Clara stopped and raised an eyebrow. Mr. Granger placed his hands in his lap and twiddled his thumbs.

"Oh, right, sorry Hermione. He must not be all that interesting, I guess, since you're engaged to him, and you have to deal with him everyday. Sorry, but unfortunately, we don't all get to be engaged to famous American football players and live in big, fancy apartments in the middle of London, so some things seem really exciting to us small, pathetic, boring people. But I can understand how lame and stupid we must seem to you, so please excuse me." She stood up and walked into the kitchen, looking out the window. Hermione rested her forehead in her hand and looked at her father, who was glancing idly at the ceiling.

"Well, dad, it looks like I'd better be leaving. I have to meet Don anyway, and I've got stuff to plan for tomorrow, so I've got my work cut out for me…happy birthday, dad," she said, defeated, standing up and pressing her lips to his forehead.

"You're leaving? But you've at least got to have some cake, Clara brought a beautiful cake, please take some."

"Oh no, I don't think Hermione would like it. It's too fattening, might ruin her perfect physique," Clara called from the kitchen, still looking out the window. Hermione's eyes narrowed, but she took a deep breath and walked over to the door.

"I love you, dad. Call me later, all right?" She blew him a kiss and, with one more glance at Clara, closed the door shut behind her.

When Don entered his apartment a few hours later, he was met with a big shock. Every single light in the place was on. There was water running in the sink, there were dirty dishes all over the counter, and a few miscellaneous frozen food boxes strewn across the floor. (It looked as though they had been thrown at the trash can, and had then sadly missed.) Yet, most noticeably, there was some extremely loud, extremely obnoxious (to Don, anyway) music blasting from seemingly everywhere. He paused in the doorway, took a cautious look around, then carefully made his way through the kitchen and took a tentative step into the living room.

Hermione was seated on the couch, looking through some books that sat in her lap. Her hair fell in frizzy, wild curls down her back, one of which she was twirling a strand of hair around her hair absentmindedly. She was wearing a large shirt and a pair of gray sweatpants, and her legs were crossed beneath her, her toe tapping along to the beat. Don waited, hoping she would notice his entrance, but after it was clear she hadn't, he cleared his throat.

"Oh, hey honey!" she said, looking up. Don looked at her a bit disapprovingly, but didn't voice this immediately. Instead, he put his suitcase down at his side and cleared his throat again.

"Hi, Hermione. Um…what's going on?"

"Oh, nothing. I'm just going through some of my old school books. I found my old copy of Hogwarts: A History. Look at how wrinkled and torn these pages are! I must have read this book a million times…" She drifted off, sinking back into the book before her and reading it for the million and first time. Don sighed and placed his hands in his pockets, hesitating for a few seconds and thinking.

"What's this music?" he asked finally, looking around the room for the source of the noise. Hermione smiled brightly.

"Oh, isn't it cute? It's the Weird Sisters, see?" she asked, pulling her hair back and revealing her tee shirt: there was a picture of the girls emblazoned across her chest with the band name in large, red letters. "I haven't listened to them in forever, probably since the ball in our last year…I'd almost forgotten about them. It brings back so many memories…" She drifted off again, mouthing the lyrics and going back to her book. Don looked around uncomfortably and winced as one of the Weird Sisters reached an unnatural high note.

"Hermione, care to explain what's going on? I mean, you've completely changed. You're not excited that I've come home, you didn't even bother asking why I came back early. Your hair is…well, its interesting, I guess, and god knows what you're wearing…you've changed, and I'm just wondering what happened to the Hermione I left a week ago!"

"Honey, of course I'm excited to see you!" she exclaimed, standing up and heading over to him, throwing her arms around his neck. "I just got so involved in looking at all of this that I guess I just got lost in my own little world. I'm sorry, honey."

"Yeah, but that doesn't explain any of—of this," he said, moving his hands up and down in the air and indicating her attire. She pulled back a few steps.

"Oh, I just…is it horrible?"

Don watched as her expression sank from excited to sullen, and a small smile played on his lips as though he was overcome with sudden understanding.

"You know what? I think I know exactly what you need…I'm going to take you someplace I always go when I need perspective. Whenever I lose a sense of myself and I get stressed out, I just go there and I feel so much better. Okay?"

He placed a soothing, reassuring hand on her shoulder and rubbed it gently. Hermione looked up at him and grinned weakly and nodded.

"That's a girl. Ready to go?"

They arrived half an hour later (through Muggle travel, of course) at the Cornish Field football center. Hermione looked around at all the bright lights and followed as Don led her to the center of the field. She stood alone for a few minutes as he walked away, and when he came back, he was carrying a football in one hand. She eyed him curiously as he took her hand and walked her over to a spot a few feet away. He stopped and smiled at her, staying quiet as Hermione raised an eyebrow.

"So, now what?" she asked, trying to make sense of the whole thing. Don's smile grew wider. He tossed her the ball and clasped his hands together.

"Throw it," he said simply.

"What?"

"Go on, throw it," he repeated. Hermione watched him, waiting for him to say something more substantial, but after it became obvious she would be granted no such satisfaction, she frowned.

"What is it?" he asked, noticing.

"That's it? All you have to say is 'throw it'? You're telling me to throw a football, and that's supposed to get rid of all my troubles? I'm going to die in like, three days, and you're telling me to toss a football?"

"Hermione, what is—"

"This is all wrong, this is just completely wrong. I thought you were gonna give me some advice, some thoughtful words, something! You handed me a football…I just—I—oh god…"

"So what are you saying, Hermione? This is all wrong? Are you saying we're all wrong? You and me?" he asked, his voice rising. Hermione looked at him guiltily and didn't say a word. Don lowered his head and scoffed.

"I see. Yeah, I get it now. So you're breaking up with me? Is that what's going on?"

"Don, I—"

"No, it's—don't bother. I get it. my football is just too simple for you, I understand. I hope you can find someone who can make you happy and offer you some more sophisticated advice." He began walking toward the car, not looking back to see the tear rolling down her cheek.

"God, why me? Why?" she shouted to the empty field, wringing her hands over her head and stomping her foot on the damp grass.

That's the end of this one, folks! Stay tuned for the next episode, where we'll see Hermione falling apart at the seams…Will she ever make up with Clara? Is she truly over Don? Would Hermione have actually truly enjoyed the cake, whether it would have ruined her perfect physique or not? Find out the answers to these questions and more next week on…

A Simple Kind of Life…

Make sure to review! Love you guys!