10.

In her third year, Astoria ends up kissing Draco Malfoy.

She isn't even sure how it happens. Well, yeah, she is – all that stupid Peeves' fault, casting Sticking Charms beneath the bunches of mistletoe in the corridors. She'd been laughing over it with Draco, watching it as a pair of blushing first years tried to unstick their feet from the floor, and then – and then her feet won't move anymore.

"What the hell?" Beside her, Draco's making an extremely comical effort to jump up and down off the floor, which she really wants to laugh at – if she wasn't struggling so much herself. "I bet it's some stupid prank of those blood-traitor twi – oh."

She's still rocking backwards and forwards on her feet when she blinks up and sees the seemingly innocent spring of greenery hanging above their heads.

"Oh."

He's fingering his wand rather longingly, as if the most pleasing thing in the world to him right now would be to blast that single clump of shrubbery to kingdom come. "You know, I always thought that menace Peeves should be completely banned from the school buildings themselves. Banish him to the Forbidden Forest, that's the only thing for him."

"Uh-huh." Carrying on with stilted conversation seems the only option available to her because honestly, it's Draco and she can't very well kiss him, can she? Ever since the Yule Ball last year he's actually been a lot nicer to her – indulging her and allowing her to pass by his little gang without comment, even talking to her in public. She's sure it's a mild form of teasing…absolutely certain he's being patronising…but he's still been nicer. And she can't kiss him. It's Draco. It's Draco Malfoy. She can't do it.

A small snicker escapes from his lips – she's trying not to be aware of the movement of his mouth, but honestly, it's difficult – as if he's well aware of what she's thinking. "Look, I don't like it any more than you do, but the only other option's staying here until the charm wears off."

"Fine by me."

His eyes roll pointedly. "The only problem with that solution, 'Tor, is that it's dinner in ten minutes. These things can take hours to wear off. I'm not staying here and missing my dinner, not without converting to cannibalism." Some painful show of her awkwardness must have flickered across her face, because he sighs, his tone softening just a little. "Look…as much as I admire your tendencies to get ridiculously melodramatic, it's not exactly the end of the world. Just shut up and let's get it over with."

Despite her discomfort, she raises her brows. "Is that what you say to Pansy?"

"Oh shut up, Greengrass."

Still snickering, her eyes half-closed, she's not even aware of him ducking down, adjusting his much taller body to accommodate her shortness, until he knocks his head quite neatly against hers, mouth just bumping against her own. Immediately the downward force on her feet lessens, but she barely notices. Astoria blinks, confused – she now has a tidy little bruise on her forehead, her nose is banged, but above all else she can only really think of one thing: That was it?! It's ridiculous…she never wanted to kiss Draco, she certainly doesn't want to push the matter, and she can't…she can't stop feeling somehow cheated.

"Well, I'm sure that was as good for you as it was for…" Catching her gaping at him, Draco folds his arms and glares at her. "Merlin, what now?"

She can hardly say what she's been thinking. "I…you knocked my head."

A snort of amusement. "Well that's not my fault – you're so damned short, no wonder I could hardly reach you." When she doesn't react in fury, as she usually would, he stares at her, before a slow, wicked smirk begins to spread across his lips. She silently cringes. "Oh…that wasn't enough for you, right Greengrass?"

The use of her surname's certainly noticeable, as if he's deliberately taunting her. A shudder begins to ripple the entire length of her spine, because if there's one thing worse than being stuck to the floor with Draco Malfoy for company, it's having him look at her like…that.

"I didn't say that," she remarks, setting her jaw tightly. His grey eyes sparkle quite fiendishly, and – well, she's never quite noticed how his voice sounds like dark chocolate should, if that makes any sense. Oh, it doesn't matter if it doesn't make any sense, it does anyway. She takes a quick step backwards, and the gesture makes him chuckle. "You know, that's practically…sexual harassment is what it is, Malfoy. And why would I want to kiss you?"

Another dark chuckle. "You tell me."

There's no confounded Sticking Charm on her shoes, she could bolt at any moment; but she doesn't. What she does instead is quite bewildering – she folds her arms defiantly across her chest, leading back against the wall. "I just don't see what the fuss is about is all. From the way Pansy Parkinson squeals about you I'd imagine you'd cast a charm on her."

Draco snorts; his slow smirk spreading further across his lips. "You think she's making a fuss about nothing?"

She nods.

"You want to see what all the fuss is about?"

Another nod; why is she being so stupid?

"Alright." Still smirking, Draco picks her up bodily by the waist and places her to sit on the windowsill, so their heads are level. She's never noticed the exact colour of his eyes before. "Close your eyes." He instructs, and then leans forward and -

Well, for a week or so after that she can't even look Draco in the face. Hurrying past the Slytherin table with her head averted, shrinking behind piles of books in the Library whenever he entered, hiding behind Daphne in the corridors; and then tightening her eyelids and summoning up memories in her mind. It's only when that bloody Pansy Parkinson casts the Stinging Hex on her and says she'd been hearing rumours involving her and mistletoe, and if she ever went near Draco again she'd answer for it, understand you filthy little Ravenclaw, that she can summon up the courage to approach him again.

He hadn't even noticed, that was the strange thing. While she'd been hiding behind suits of armour and daydreaming wistfully in Transfiguration, he'd been twisting himself round Pansy Parkinson. That was the thing.

The very next Hogsmede trip, Astoria finds a group of boys her age to walk with and never looks back.