Draco really was a child.
When the healer had come by the week prior, he fixed everything he could and left notes for everything he couldn't, Draco's deteriorating eyesight among them. He pitched a fit every time it was mentioned that he would need reading glasses at the very least, claiming he would rather lose his eyesight than look anything more like Potter.
That Harry had switched to contacts shortly after Hogwarts meant very little in the overall argument.
So when it came to getting Draco's reading glasses bright and early, Harry Potter was nowhere to be found for support. Hermione was, but then again she always was.
She consoled him by offering to take him to Ollivander's first, thinking magic and a new wand could heal the wounds of failing eyesight but she was wrong. At first Draco tried to barter that a wand would be the only errand they would run that morning, but when it came to actually dressing and leaving the house he had reversed his position entirely.
"You're wearing chinos," said Hermione, unable to phrase the dumbstruck statement into a proper question. She was momentarily dazed by how good looking Draco was in his crisp blue linen button up, paired with cropped beige chinos and white leather loafers.
Draco's put that store mannequin to shame.
Hermione shook her head, banishing the wholly inappropriate thoughts from her mind, before looking him over once more to make sure nothing was amiss.
"I've decided I would rather only get glasses today. With you as a roommate, reading isn't exactly going anywhere, so getting proper lenses to dispel the headaches would be the wiser plan of action."
Hermione registered what he was saying but found herself immobile. Draco, despite being malnourished and having a long recovery ahead of him, could apparently make anything from any world look good. Perhaps it was his smug personality.
Hermione mulled that over.
"I'm glad you've come to see reason on the glasses. As it is, I've already booked you an appointment with an optometrist – my own, in fact – for later this morning. Ollivander is expecting us in twenty minutes though, so let's be off."
If she hadn't still been mesmerized by how the cuff of his shirt wrapped around his forearms and – is that another tattoo?!—she would have missed how his body tensed up at the mention of the magical wand maker's name.
"Hermione," Draco said, using her name if only to throw her off, "he's not going to make me a wand. He was held captive in my house and tortured, not just by me and the other Death Eaters but by the Dark Lord himself."
Hermione finally tore her eyes away from Draco's arm and the hint of ink peeking out and turned to the sleeves of her own dress, picking away at some invisible speck of lint.
"I'll have you know that I spoke with Mr. Ollivander about what happened while he was held in captivity. Speaking about the atrocities you endure is very good for your mental health," she added, in a not so subtle hinting tone, "He never blamed you. In fact, he's very aware of who I am bringing by to get a wand this morning."
Hermione suspected it was because Draco had unwittingly been the master of the Elder Wand for several months, but she would take what she could get.
"I won't go."
Hermione sighed.
"Draco Lucius Malfoy, don't start with me! This is not an argument we're having with fifteen minutes until our appointment. Garrick Ollivander is a reasonable man who has had three and a half years to move on from the War and one way in which he is choosing to do so is finding you a new wand. Now move your petulant arse out the door and let's go."
Hermione opened the door and waited, her tone and unhappy stare reminiscent of Narcissa Malfoy's. Unwilling to see what consequences would come from further protest, Draco shuffled past her, mumbling complaints under his breath.
Draco expected the day to be similar to ripping away a leech but Hermione Granger had no care for his discomfort as she walked into her favorite nearby coffee shop and ordered two iced coffees. Once bearing drinks, she guided him to the adjacent alley and the two Apparated to one similar across the city, connecting to Ollivander's wand shop.
Draco closed his eyes, chanting in his head to be brave, but couldn't force himself to put one foot in front of the other. Hermione, waiting for him to move, noticed his hesitance.
"Come along Draco, just imagine how much happier you'll be once this is done."
She slid her arm into the crook of his and light tugged, guiding him to the shop and not letting go until they passed through the door and the chime of the bell summoned the old keeper.
"Mr. Malfoy," he said in his usual, mystical drawl.
"I will admit, I was not sure you would show up this morning."
Draco turned and faced Hermione, who had another facial expression reminiscent of Narcissa Malfoy: thinly veiled disdain. Draco wondered if she had left something out from her previous encounters with the old wizard or if she was insulted on Draco's behalf for the dig at his expense.
Draco secretly relished in the possibility it was the latter.
"No matter, come along. We'll get your new measurements and get started."
Ollivander immediately tugged three boxes from shelves hidden in the further recesses of the store before the magical measuring tape finished prodding and pestering Draco. He gave each the required swish but each one was removed quickly by a increasingly more interested Ollivander.
He tried two more, both plucked from the same shelf, with equally poor results.
"Perhaps not then..?" he muttered to himself, taking off in the other direction to perhaps try something else.
Ollivander had several more failed attempts, which disheartened Draco, who in a flash of uncertainty thought perhaps after what I've done with magic, I'm no longer meant to use it.
That thought was forgotten when Ollivander handed him the next wand.
Draco could feel something in him – his magic, perhaps – rejoice and purr as the wand touched his fingers. He gave it a slight swish and watched a string of flowers pour out and onto the ground.
Hermione gave him a smirk out of the guilty pleasure of being right and he blushed ever so slightly.
"Well, now! Twelve inches, willow with a dragon heartstring, reasonably taut; this is an unusual combination, but I suppose Mr. Malfoy that you have had an unusual life. Oh yes, this wand will serve you very well. Perhaps more so, I suspect, than the springy Hawthorn you had before."
Draco listened and nodded, memorizing the detail of his new wand already. Hermione's smirk melted to a soft smile as she watched wizard and wand become acquainted, and dug out Galleons to cover the cost.
"No, Miss Granger, I do not think that will be necessary."
Draco and Hermione looked at up Ollivander, who had been watching Draco closely.
"Unlike some, I do not forget what you and your friends accomplished – and what you gave up – to save our world from war. Your money is no good here Ms. Granger. Mr. Malfoy, I do hope you enjoy the wand. Good day to you both."
And with that, the pair were ushered into the street by a suddenly bashful Ollivander. Not wanting to kick a gift Hippogriff in the mouth, Hermione tucked the galleons back into her bag and made a note to send him a thank you note later before turning to face Draco.
"Well, time for your glasses."
And suddenly Draco's good mood poured out of him and he started muttering mutinously under his breath as Hermione led the way down the alley.