The Peacemaker

--by Egon Starcollector

Disclaimer: I don't own HP, grills, or bratwurst. I just own Moorside (Harry and Hermione's home) and Hermione's cousin Stacy McIvers.



Dear Diary,

The man I consider my brother and the love of my life are downstairs yelling at each other yet again, so I thought I'd slip away and visit with you for a moment.

It's amazing how much they still fight after all these years. As always, I try to stay out of it. Admittedly, the stakes are somewhat higher now: if I side with Hermione, Ron doesn't speak to me; if I side with Ron, however, I sleep on the couch until further notice. I'm getting to be very good at being neutral.

What's even more amazing to me are the things they fight about. Today, for example, Ron made some idle comment about the curtains. I have discovered that my wife is surprisingly house proud. Hermione flew right off the handle, yelling at Ron for insinuating that she was a poor housekeeper. He yelled right back, saying she took everything too personally. I slipped out of the room and tiptoed up the stairs. I value my relationships with both of them--not to mention my sanity!--far too much to take sides. Besides, our couch is uncomfortable.

I wonder if Ron will ever figure out what I have known for years? Namely, that it is unwise to argue with a woman who can outthink you--and can do so without batting a pretty eyelash.

Hm, they are quiet. I wonder if I should...nope, spoke too soon. There they go at it again.

I am amazed the three of us have remained this close for this long, considering how much their personalities clash. And how could I choose? Ron may be hotheaded, but he's also the guy I'd most want at my back in a fight. And Hermione...how could I not adore Hermione? Her bushy hair is just like a cloud, that mind of hers fascinates me, and those eyes.... Not to mention that her cheesecake is to die for.

Bother...I see it now. If I had to choose, I could only choose my wife. But since I don't want to lose my best friend--I head upstairs. I'd rather tackle Voldemort again than get caught between those two!

Hm. They've been quiet now for about ten minutes. I think that's my cue. It's a nice evening, quite warm. I'll just head quietly downstairs and suggest we get out the Muggle grill that Hermione's cousin Stacy gave us as a wedding present two years ago. That will distract Ron, who has become thoroughly addicted to Muggle grilling. It will also distract Hermione, as she will launch into "perfect hostess" mode and tear around the kitchen making salads and parfaits until her cheeks are flushed with that lovely pink. Then I'll take the grill down to the edge of the pond, fire it up (the grill, not the pond!), and throw on some hamburgers and German bratwurst. Ron will set up the folding table and chairs. Hermione will bring out a basket with the table linens and dishes. While I cook and Ron sets the table, Hermione will run back to the house and bring back a colossal tray of food (probably almost bigger than she is). We'll have butterbeer and sandwiches, along with some sort of salad and a fruity dessert that seems lighter than air (if I know my wife, and I flatter myself that I do). Then we'll watch the sun set over the moor and complain about our jobs until Ron starts to yawn. He'll head home--and if I'm lucky, my beautiful Hermione will "reward" me for my clever idea. Mm-hmm.

Argument or not, I have a feeling it's going to be a splendid evening.

--Harry