Acknowledgement—(1) All JKR, (2)All the time, (3)Many thanks! (4) Posted for enjoyment of readers only!

Truce

A Fanfic

By

Bfd1235813

A short prelude: It was a puzzle, to nearly everyone they knew. The destination was clear to all—friends, family, casual onlookers—everyone, except the couple themselves.

"DO you want to eat first, or would you rather get it out of your system? Your choice."

"What are we doing here?" asked the redhead.

"I invited you to lunch. If you're going to start spewing rough language to the point of embarrassment, you'll be here and not in the public room at the Leaky Cauldron," replied his host. "Make sense?"

There was the sound of a snort, but it was only a mild protest, a prelude to the immersion of the spoons into the soup.

"Mmm…"

The soup was good.

The two finished their first courses in silence. While the elf was clearing, bringing plates and putting kabob skewers before the diners, the white-haired host studied his guest.

"What? You want us to be friends? Buddies? You'll be my mentor and guide, since my father isn't here?" asked the redhead.

"No. If you don't mind me saying it, that's a bit far-fetched."

"You got that right," said the younger man.

"Your formative years are nearly past. I'm truly sorry they were such a struggle. If I'd had any idea…"

"What? Were you going to step in? Intervene? You've no idea."

"Hugo. Please. I didn't do it."

"What?"

"Break up your family. Your dad and mum came to a…a parting of the ways, you might say. No one's fault. It happens."

"No one's fault? He dumped her! Walked out. On Mum, Rose and me."

"That was not a nice way to do it, but now it's a case of what's done is done. I didn't have the best childhood. I think, pretty much everyone I know can say the same thing. Even your mum. She's brilliant, and a witch, and her parents are muggles. Is it fair to say you can barely talk to your grandparents?"

"Don't you DARE! The Grangers are good people, Malfoy!"

"Hugo. That's the first time you've used my name. Ha! That's what we call a breakthrough! And you didn't answer the question, did you?"

Hugo Granger-Weasley turned red. Malfoy was right. He'd been provoked into using his name.

"Now. I am seeing Hermione. We are older and, we hope, wiser. We are considering you, Rose and Scorpius in everything we do. With that said, there can be misunderstandings and hurt feelings in any human relationship. Some are more complicated than others. If you have a problem with me, now or in the future, I'm asking, in advance, if you can please bring it up so we can try to work it out. A good-faith effort. That's all."

Hugo looked down at his plate, the chunk of chicken, chunk of beef, potato, tomato and onion. His mother's boyfriend did serve a good lunch, he had to admit. Too bad the very thought of them together gave him indigestion.

After dessert, Hugo Granger-Weasley left Malfoy Manor, proceeding to Potter Manor by floo. Two Potter brothers, James and Albus, met him in the main salon.

"Kreacher!"

James summoned their house elf as soon as Granger-Weasley exited the great fireplace. His step-mother liked a clean house but she was a true stickler about soot. A single gesture, a casual hand flip and some finger-pointing conveyed James' wish for Kreacher to vanish the soot from Hugo's cloak.

"What's new?" asked James.

"Like, in the world? In general?" asked Hugo.

"No, over at Malfoy's?" James asked.

"Oh, Draco wanted to talk," said Hugo.

"What's to talk about?" asked Albus. "Your mum and dad split up and Mr. Malfoy thinks she's sweet."

"Al—come on! It wasn't too long ago. Maybe he's still sensitive…"

James snuck a sideways look at Hugo.

"No, it's okay. Really. We did talk. He isn't a bad guy. It's just the thought of him…them…"

"Getting it on?" asked Albus.

"Yes, if you simply must put it that way," said Hugo. "What were you like, when, you know?"

"Mum and Dad got divorced? I wasn't happy," said Albus. "At the same time, there were a lot less fights and shouting and things breaking and Lily crying for days on end. So there were some positives."

James gave his brother a look, puzzled by Al's use of 'positives' since he'd never heard him use that term before. Not in that way, and correctly. What's more, James agreed with Al.

"Look, it's going to be okay," said James, striving for sincerity, and, yes, positives.

"I think so," said Hugo. "Can I live with you?"

"We've got room," Al answered. "Why would you want to?"

"If they get married, I figure Mum will want to live with Draco, which means Malfoy Manor, and I don't want to live with Scorpius. He's okay. We're not enemies or anything, but I don't know. Could be weird. It wouldn't work, I don't think."

"Your dad?" asked James.

"Dad plays quidditch during the season, then he and Parvati are off to India. Her books, you know? That's her big market. I've been. It's okay. I like the music. Just not full-time," said Hugo.

Albus Potter-Black suspected he knew what the real problem was. Hugo feared he'd be relegated to the tender ministrations of Molly Weasley at the Burrow. Albus knew that emotion well, having gone through his own mental nightmare scenario when Ginevra Weasley Potter, his mother, announced she was leaving. Her explanation was that she had to get out so she could breathe, again.

Harry Potter, a dedicated family man if ever there were one, had, according to legend, demanded, "Merlin J. Christ! Doesn't anyone get married and stay married in this country anymore?"

A little over one year later, that response figured in another conversation, this one between Potter and his wife-to-be, Daphne Greengrass. Daphne asked if the legend had a basis in fact. Potter, sheepish, admitted that it did. Daphne asked a follow-up question.

"Does that kind of comment show up regularly? Loud, a bit profane, demanding, rhetorical, trying to make some point that seems important at the time?"

Potter admitted, once more, that he might be given to such speech, but only if he was frustrated and felt pushed into a corner.

"Uh-huh," said Daphne. Then she smiled a little smile, lifting just the corners of her mouth before leaving the room so Potter could think about their exchange.

Think he did. Then he drew a lesson or two, followed by trying to remember to pause before spouting off to close friends and family.

Potter thought about that mini-life-lesson before he sat down to talk with his nephew. Hugo had known Potter since birth. His uncle was a source of valued second opinions, consulted more frequently as Hugo aged into full adolescence just as his parents' marriage was approaching its inevitable end. He asked for, and got, a one-on-one with his Uncle Harry.

"Right. It's just us, the boys went with Daphne to see Scorpius and Lily has gone to the Burrow. How can I help?" asked Potter.

"Mum. Dad. Draco Malfoy," said Hugo. "Something about it. I can't…"

"Something about it sticks in your craw," said Potter.

"I guess," said Hugo. "What does that mean, exactly?"

"It comes from agriculture. Animal husbandry. Birds have no teeth so their food passes through an organ where it gets broken down by the action of little stones they swallow. The organ is called a crop, but that turned into craw. Don't ask me why. Country people, close to the land, and their animals. It has an effect. If something sticks in your craw that's another way of saying you can't get past it."

"That's a good way to put it," said Hugo. "They have to do what they have to do, but getting in bed with Scorp's dad…"

"Hard to imagine?" asked Potter.

"Mum and Dad weren't ever, what you'd call, getting along. As far back as I remember," said Hugo. "Something about the two of them. I think it went back, quite a long way."

"Very astute, Hugo," said Potter. "It was all very uneven, right from the start. I saw it, our other friends saw it, maybe everyone but the two of them saw it."

"But they went ahead," said Hugo.

"They went ahead," Potter agreed. "All their friends had high hopes."

"Lot of good that did," Hugo scoffed.

"Yes, but they had good intentions," said Potter. "They're both mad for you and Rose. Neither one wanted you to be in this situation. Their irritation is mutual. Absolutely no one thinks it could get better. What do you think?"

Hugo Grange-Weasley flinched, his own back slapping against the back of his chair.

"Me? What…why do you ask? Why me?"

Potter looked at his nephew.

"Because you have an opinion that is shaping you, your reactions to what you see your mother and father saying and doing," he said. "Do you think they could work on their differences? I'm talking about getting to the point where they stop driving the other one crazy."

Hugo sat, silent, staring straight ahead. Minutes went by before tears appeared and Hugo had to sniff several times. Potter handed him a box of tissues.

"Thanks, Uncle Harry," he said. More minutes passed while both considered their conversation.

"No," said Hugo, at last.

Potter looked at his face, seeing disappointment and a resignation to failure.

"That's good," said Potter. "All of us who watched, waiting for them to get it together, feel the same way. This way, you and Rose won't be subjected to daily doses of anger. Resentment. The mutual contempt the two of them were broadcasting the last couple of years. You don't need that. You don't want it, rattling around inside you. Inside your head. Now, you can work on your own relationships, with the two of them, separately, without the distractions. It's all wrong to put that on you, of course. It's supposed to be the other way around."

"So I'll raise them?" Hugo asked.

"You think you're being facetious, or snarky, but you're not. Look back, ten years from now and come talk to me. Yes, in a way, you've been given the responsibility for raising two adults," said Potter.

Another long, silent gap settled down on the conversation, until Hugo spoke again.

"Have they been…you know…screwing? Since school?" he asked.

"Draco and Hermione? Not that I know of," said Potter. "They both appeared to have a natural dislike for the other. If that was an indication of some unspoken affection, I never saw either one act on it. Could be some subliminal thing I'm not trained to recognize."

Hugo stopped talking, taking another break to consider the discussion, up to that point.

"Guess I'm lucky, in a way," he said.

"How so?" asked Potter.

"Won't be around for their arguments," Hugo said. "They went on and on and on. They'd argue over dinner and start up again at breakfast. How did they ever get together, anyway?"

"Oh, Gryffindor," said Potter. "The year your mum and dad and I took off to run around, searching for some Dark objects. Then we were all celebrated for two more years. They got you, and Rose, early on. Then, when it got a little quieter in magical society, they had to assess where they were and where they wanted to go. Ron was playing quidditch and Hermione was an entry-level civil servant. Paths diverged. They do that. Most people are a lot more careful, the second time. Lessons learned?"

"Definitely," said Hugo.

"Can you listen to a tip from someone who's been through it?" asked Potter.

Hugo nodded.

"Listening skills. Every minute you spend on listening skills is breakup insurance. Start working on yours now, so it's a habit when you get in deep with someone," said Potter.

Hugo laughed again.

"As long as I don't have to move in with Draco and Mum," he said.

"Don't lose sleep over it," said Potter. "You're always welcome here."

The End