It wasn't often that Draco Malfoy pulled his cards. They'd barely touched on it in divination – even Trelawney had dismissed the practice as more of a psychological practice than a magical practice – but it was a part of the Ministry dictated curriculum, so he'd at least had an introduction.
Draco Malfoy quite liked tarot cards. As a juvenile, he'd found the practice of manipulating his friends through readings quite helpful: convincing Blaise to be more mischievous than usual, comforting Millie when her cousin was admitted to Mungos, giving Pansy a love reading that outraged her so much she'd not spoken to him for a week – it was all very self-serving, sure, but he'd never lied.
Today, however, he was pulling for himself, and you could very rarely manipulate an interpretation for yourself. You could lie to yourself and say they meant something else, but you would know. You can run from yourself, but you can't hide.
He set his intention as he shuffled the cards, feeling his magic hum in his fingertips: How do I move forward with Hermione?
He chuckled as he placed three cards face down on his kitchen counter while his eggs sizzled. He remembered Hermione's own aversion to anything divine in school, and he was nearly certain she'd feel he was being silly.
"What game are you playing, Dad?" Scorpius asked, not at all inconvenienced by his mouth full of cereal.
"It's not a game, Scor," Draco said, moving to turn off the stove before motioning for Scorpius to stop eating for a moment and join him. When the little boy'd come to stand by his father, Draco lifted him up and sat him on the counter beside the cards.
"The cards are the same," Scorpius said, his entire face pulling together in confusion.
"No, Scor, they're face down. The backs are all the same but the fronts are different."
"How do you know?"
Draco chuckled and flipped the first card, keeping his question in his mind.
What brings us together?
IV of Pentacles.
Stability.
Interesting. Stability wouldn't have been the word he would use to describe the relationship between he and Granger. Then again, they had been in one another's lives for over a decade. Perhaps that could at least be called consistent. Not to mention he knew now that he could depend on her in a pinch. He wondered if she knew she could depend on him, too.
"Ohhh," Scorpius said at the pretty illustration, and Draco let him flip the next one.
What keeps us apart?
V of Cups.
Loss, disappointment.
Scorpius sniffed at the image of the sad looking man and tried to hop from the counter, but his father caught him mid-air and lowered him gently to the ground. He hurried back to his cereal, suddenly worried it might become soggy.
This card was always a bit of a blow to receive. He'd tended to identify more with the sense of disappointment – being a disappointment, that is. Disappointing his father, his friends, his ancestors. Clearly, he was a disappointment to Astoria, or she'd not have left. That wasn't so much a loss, though, as it was a disappointment to him. He'd not ached for her when she left, but for their son. Halfway through her pregnancy, she'd decided life as a Malfoy was not as ethereal as she'd imagined it growing up, and she wasn't at all keen on being a mother either.
So she'd left.
Draco was only grateful she'd left before Scorpius could ever know her and that she'd had the decency to quickly sign her parental rights over when he'd asked.
No, Astoria wasn't a loss. The loss he was afraid of was losing Hermione. That was always the fear, wasn't it? That going after what he really wanted would only make the inevitable loss that much more pronounced on what remained of his soul. Would his asking her out ruin what friendship they'd built? Or would she agree only for it all to fall apart later?
Draco looked back at his son and was reminded that good things could happen to him. Regardless of what happened Hermione would still be around as a friend. He couldn't doubt that. Maybe it would be awkward, but they'd get over it.
Draco turned his attention back to the final card. He took a deep breath and then flipped it.
What will bring positive progress?
STRENGTH
Balance, compassion, understanding... bravery.
Well.
Easier said than done. He might not be in school anymore, but house traits generally stuck with you. He couldn't really say compassion, understanding, and bravery were among his talents. He suppressed a groan and pushed the cards back into the deck.
As he ate his well-burnt eggs, Draco determined rather begrudgingly that Hermione was probably worth learning a new skill or two.
Although Draco had decided that he was going to have to buck up and pursue Hermione, he'd expected to have a bit of time to prepare a plan for how best to woo her. Instead, it seemed as if Hermione was there any time he went anywhere besides the pitch or his home. Had he not known his divination quite well, he might have thought he'd willed these run-ins into reality.
He tried to convince himself that each meeting was an opportunity to put forward an effort, but every time he managed to get a flirtatious comment past the lump in his throat and over the knot in his tongue, it seemed to fly over her head. It wouldn't bother him so much if she'd just respond the tiniest bit – even if it was her cutting him off with a clear refusal.
As it were, it was as if she hadn't processed his flirtation at all. Two weeks of random encounters and both his best as worse lines, and she'd not done more than chuckle a little as if he were telling her a joke (which, really, the bad lines did warrant).
He was getting to the point where he was wondering if she found him attractive at all. Perhaps he just wasn't her type? That was a hard pill for him to swallow after so many years of being most peoples' type, at least physically.
He was beginning to spend an untenable amount of time in his closet, trying to figure out what he should wear just in case he bumped into her before giving up and throwing on a button-up and light blue sweater with some denims. He wasn't planning on going out anyway. Scorpius had stayed with his nana the previous night and wasn't due back until the afternoon, so Draco planned to simply lounge about, respond to some letters, and catch up on his reading.
No risk of running into Hermione Granger.
So when his floo alerted him to someone trying to come through he was a bit floored when the woman herself walked out of the green flames once he'd dropped his wards.
"Hermione, uh, hullo," Draco said confused and more than a bit embarrassed to be caught at his leisure.
"Hello, Draco! You look quite relaxed. Shouldn't you be getting ready for your game?"
The quidditch season had just recently ended, so he wasn't really following her.
Hermione, expecting the confusion, clarified: "The charity game. You asked me to watch Scor during the game?"
Draco's face scrunched up for a fraction of a second before he realized what she was talking about. "Oh, I'm afraid you've got the wrong date. The charity game is next week."
"Oh rats," Hermione said, pulling her agenda from her bag, "I'm sure I put it down for today."
She flipped to today's date and offered the agenda to him, pointing at her little note annotating the game. It had pained her to write the date down incorrectly, but her plan necessitated it.
Draco took her planner and frowned, fully aware of how seriously she took her schedule. "I must have given you the wrong date. I'm terribly sorry."
Hermione took her agenda back then before he could flip to the next week and see she had the event scribbled under the correct date as well. "Oh, I'm sure it was just my brain being a bit muddled. Work has been a bit hectic."
"Oh?" Draco inquired, moving back so she could walk further into his home.
Hermione moved straight towards the couch and let her bag crash to the floor as she made herself comfortable on the cushions. "The cut off for submissions across several annually published journals is coming up, so I'm afraid I'm being swamped with irate and sleep-deprived academics and researchers." She looked back at Draco and squinted. "Are you wearing glasses?"
Draco stood still for a moment, confused, before quickly remembering his reading glasses and pulling them off. "Ah, yes, well... I just wear them for reading."
"One too many bludgers to the head mess with your sight, eh?" Hermione joked, wishing he'd put the glasses back on.
Draco slid the glasses into his pocket, "I'll have you know, I've always been far-sighted. It's what allows me to plan so well."
"Very funny."
"Why thank you," Draco said, giving a little bow. "Tea?"
"Please," she said, then quickly realized he'd never actually invited her in. "You don't mind if I stay for a bit, do you? Only, I'd like a bit of company since I've not got any plans. And I've made all these biscuits I'd planned to share with Scor and the other kids."
"You're always welcome here, Hermione," Draco said, letting a small silence stretch between them. Then, "Put the biscuits on the table, though. You don't get tea for nothing."
"Ha!" Hermione did as she was told. She'd made a double batch of the biscuit dough, too, so it'd be quite easy to remake the treats for the children the following week. Really, it was quite an efficient plan she'd come up with.
When Draco returned to the living room, he'd managed to calm himself significantly. As he sat the mugs of tea on the coffee table, he noticed the long powder blue skirt Hermione was wearing and huffed a small laugh, startling Hermione.
"It would seem that we're matching," Draco said, indicating his own sweater that he was not quite glad he'd chosen.
Hermione felt her cheeks heat a bit at his observation. "Seems so."
"You look quite nice, by the way," Draco said, sitting down across from her.
"Thanks. Or are you just saying that because I've accidentally dressed like you?" She joked.
Draco looked up from his task of sugaring his tea to ungodly proportions. "No. I've said it because it's what I'm usually thinking, is all."
"Ah," Hermione said, looking down to her own mug of tea to hide her burning cheeks and pleased smile.
Well. That was 'obtain a compliment' off her list, then.
And matching outfits, too, she thought. That will tickle Ginny, no doubt.
"Happy New Year!" she said, fully aware that January is basically over.
Draco is a divination ho, you cannot convince me otherwise.