Draco turned up on the Greengrass' doorstep early the following morning. Thankfully they were early risers, although Mrs Greengrass still looked fairly confused to see him there.

"Is Astoria available?" he asked bluntly.

He was invited into the house but Draco had no intention of staying.

"I've come to take you to Hogsmeade," he told Astoria the moment she arrived in the hallway.

"I didn't know we were going out," she replied bemusedly.

"We weren't."

Draco gave her enough time to grab her money bag and a cloak before quite literally taking her by the arm and pulling her from the house.

"What's brought on this impulsive streak?" Astoria giggled as Draco pulled her down the driveway at an almost run.

Draco shrugged. "We're young. Let's act like it for once."

They slipped beyond the gate; Astoria took Draco's arm and the pair of them disapparated.

Hogsmeade village was just as much of a postcard as always, its thatched roofs bright and jolly in the crisp morning sunshine. There was a light breeze in the air which rustled through Draco's hair. He breathed in deeply, letting the morning soak into his lungs.

"So, where to?" Astoria asked, her face turned up to his.

Draco smiled back.

"Everywhere," he said.

The village was significantly quieter than either of them was used to, with the complete absence of Hogwarts students. Draco directed Astoria into Honeydukes first and they had the shop almost to themselves. The bald man behind the counter eyed the two customers. Draco hadn't been here since his schooldays and he realised, a little awkwardly, that he was perhaps a little old to be taking his girlfriend to a sweetshop.

Or was he too old? Who on earth had decided at what age it stopped being acceptable to enjoy yourself? Why should he let some old shopkeeper's judgement stop him from doing exactly what he wanted?

Draco grabbed several paper bags at once and began to shove in every type of sweet in arm's reach. Astoria very quickly followed suit. The pair of them flew around the shop, making good use of its emptiness, until a bit of everything filled their arms. Several pepper imps spilt out of one of Draco's bags as he dumped it onto the counter.

"That'll be one Galleon and five Knuts," the shopkeeper told him, as he weighed Draco's bags with raised eyebrows.

Back in the street, after paying up, Astoria was incredulous.

"I can't believe you spent a Galleon on sweets!"

"And it'll be worth every Knut," Draco responded, shoving a sugar mouse into his mouth.

"Not when you throw up, it won't."

They headed into Gladrags next, in which Astoria's eye was immediately taken by a long, velvet cloak in deepest purple, embroidered with glittering black beads.

"Have it," Draco said immediately. "I'll pay."

Astoria took the cloak without even pretending to argue.

They were less popular customers at Scrivenshaft's, in which Draco poked Astoria with a singing quill, which then turned into a full-blown poking match to the tune of Odo the Hero, until Draco bought the entire set just to stop the shopkeeper from shouting at them. They almost got kicked out of Zonko's, too, for setting off half the products in the near-empty shop.

"It has to be a feat, nearly being sent out of a joke shop for annoying the owner," Astoria laughed as they meandered down the street again, arm in arm.

It was not far off lunch time, but Draco was not much in the mood for sitting down. He pulled Astoria into the post office instead, where they proceeded to irritate the staff by ignoring the postal charges and petting the owls instead.

"I'm getting quite thirsty," Astoria hinted strongly as they wandered towards the Three Broomsticks.

Draco still wasn't in the mood for sitting down, but he, too, could have done with a drink. Not from here, though.

"Somewhere else," Draco told Astoria quietly, steering her past the entrance.

"Why?" Astoria asked confusedly.

"I ... er ... sort of cursed the landlady in my sixth year."

"Oh," Astoria flushed. Draco didn't want to dampen the mood.

"There's the Hog's Head," he suggested.

"I am not drinking in the Hog's Head," Astoria told him firmly.

"I don't blame you," said Draco. "I just thought you might want a proper drink."

"This early in the day?"

"We can drink Firewhiskey legally now," Draco shrugged.

"You're awful, you know?"

"Yeah ... I've been told that."

For a moment, Draco was worried he'd ruined the atmosphere again. But, thankfully, Astoria was in a lighter mood.

"There's Madam Puddifoot's?" she suggested.

"Isn't that that awful tea shop with the frilly decor?"

"Didn't Pansy Parkinson ever take you in?" Astoria asked him, smirking.

"She tried to. Is it as gross as it she made it sound?"

"Even worse," Astoria grinned.

"Well, I think I've got to see it now."

Draco regretted this decision immediately. Like the rest of Hogsmeade, the tea shop was quiet but, this close to lunch time, it was far from deserted. Two tables already housed customers which, in the tiny, closely packed room, made the place feel rather crowded – to Draco, at least.

People are looking, Draco told himself, although he hadn't actually checked.

Astoria was halfway to a table, however, so he had no choice but to follow. To his relief, she chose to sit against a wall, meaning there were no people on one side of them at least. Draco turned his attention to the very lacy table cloth, catching an edge of it between his fingers.

Astoria snorted.

"It's not that bad," she muttered and Draco realised his feelings must have been showing on his face.

Fortunately, neither of them was much in the mood for any food, after the huge amount of sweets they had consumed that morning, so Draco only had to remain in the shop long enough to finish a cup of tea. He took two huge gulps as soon as the stout witch who he assumed was Madam Puddifoot herself left their table, burning his mouth in the process, then realised that he probably ought to pace himself for Astoria's sake.

He glanced around at the rest of the shop, taking in the single stout, grey-haired man at the far wall and the chattering couple by the window. He snapped his eyes quickly back to his own table and focused on the china sugar pot instead.

"Are you all right?" Astoria asked him.

"Yeah – fine," Draco answered hurriedly, realising a moment too late he'd been tapping his fingers against the tablecloth since he'd set his tea cup down. He took another quick sip.

Astoria tried to make conversation with him but, for the first time that day, Draco was no longer in the present. He smiled and nodded and drank from his tea cup when he thought it was appropriate, but all the while the majority of his attention was on the overwhelming urge to escape from the shop.

When Astoria had finally finished (Draco having drained his own cup several minutes previously), he jumped up immediately to pay and hurried straight back onto the street, relief flooding through Draco's chest as they reached the fresh air.

"You're energetic today," Astoria commented fondly.

Draco smiled back, but his heart was beating very quickly. What was wrong with him? He'd managed to sit down to tea before. But he hadn't liked that at all.

People were looking.

No they weren't.

They had to do something else; something to bring back the good humour he'd been in earlier. Somehow, in the time they'd spent sitting down – which, Draco discovered while checking his watch, had only been ten minutes – a great blockage of energy had built up inside him.

"C'mon," he said breathlessly, taking Astoria by the wrist.

He trotted the pair of them back up the high street. He was in no mood to go into any more shops just yet; the fresh air was doing him good. He pulled Astoria out of the village altogether and broke into a half run as they stepped off the main track.

The Shrieking Shack eased into sight as they hurtled up the slope upon which it rested. The ground was unpleasantly wet and slimy and Draco vaguely remembered having sludge thrown at him, one visit to the village many years ago; it was the day he had discovered that Potter owned an invisibility cloak.

The pair of them came to a halt at the fence. Draco leaned into it for support as he regained his breath, while Astoria bent double. Their shoes and the bottom of their clothes were splattered with muck. Astoria's hair was thoroughly windswept and, as she straightened up, a light breeze rustled through it. He felt the overwhelming urge to touch it, and so he did, running the fingers of his right hand into it until they caught on a knot. Warmth spread through his fingertips and into his hand from her scalp. She lifted her head upwards, towards his; her usually gaunt cheeks were high in colour.

Draco moved his face towards hers and her mouth came up to meet his. Her lips were chapped from the cold, but it didn't matter. Their bags bumped against each other as their lips met and parted.

The kiss seemed to last an age and only ended when Draco lifted his face away from hers for fear of it never stopping. They remained stationary several moments longer, wrapped in each other's gaze, Astoria's face beaming into his, and his down at hers.

They ambled back towards the village at a fraction of the speed they'd run up the hill, hand in hand and Draco feeling about fourteen again which, as far as he was concerned, was a very good thing indeed. He had enjoyed being fourteen.

They went around the remainder of the village in less than an hour, flitting between shops but their minds still up by the Shrieking Shack. More than once, one of them caught the other's eye and both broke into smirks.

It was mid-afternoon when they wandered back to the point at which they had apparated. Astoria swayed lightly as she walked, in a contented sort of way, leaning into Draco's left arm. Draco read from her body language that she had had a perfectly satisfactory sort of day.

But he wasn't ready for the day to be over – not yet. Because, if the day were over, he would have nowhere to return to but home and the depths of his thoughts and there was enough of the day left that he did not much fancy being stuck in either.

"Shall we head over to Diagon Alley now?" he suggested.

Astoria came to a halt and looked at him. Her face had paled a little.

"I'm getting quite tired," she told him. "I could probably do with some rest."

"You can rest this evening," Draco insisted.

"No, really – I..." Astoria faltered. "It's not that I don't want to, it's just ... I get really tired if I keep going too long. I've had a lovely morning," she added, as though to rectify the situation.

Draco felt his face harden.

"Well, if you'd rather go home than spend more time with me."

"Draco." Astoria sounded at a loss at the sudden change of mood. "I'm ill."

"So ... what? You're going to let your illness run your life?"

"No ... I ... fine," Astoria conceded irritably. "We'll go to Diagon Alley."

"No, no, not if you don't want to-"

"Oh, for God's sake." A couple of shoppers glanced over at them as they passed. "Let's just go."

The air in Diagon Alley was significantly cooler than in Hogsmeade, although Draco assumed this had more to do with the atmosphere surrounding the pair of them than in the alley itself. Astoria wrapped her cloak around her more tightly, and headed into the apothecary without looking at him.

The problem was that much of what Diagon Alley had was very similar to what was in Hogsmeade. There was nothing in the apothecary that they hadn't already seen that day and both of them grew bored quickly. Now that Draco's good mood had worn off, the sense that he was unwelcome in the long, cobbled street was creeping over him more strongly than ever. There were some shops down Knockturn Alley that he wouldn't have minded visiting, out of interest alone, but he couldn't quite bring himself to face them, or the people in them, that afternoon. Instead, he and Astoria scanned titles in Flourish and Blotts without taking any in, glanced at the window display in Quality Quidditch Supplies without heading inside and gave the meekest of glances at the wares of the numerous peddlers along the street.

Astoria had not lied about tiring after a busy morning. It became apparent quickly that her energy was dropping fast, the colour draining slowly from her face. It was only as they passed the ice cream parlour that had once been owned by Florian Fortescue that Draco realised it was time to admit defeat; Astoria looked close to fainting.

"C'mon," he said quietly, taking her by the upper arm and all but steering her into the Leaky Cauldron.

Astoria allowed herself to be directed to a table and buried her face in her hands while Draco went to order drinks and food on both their behalves.

People really are staring at us now, he thought as he took the seat next to hers. And they were too; several other customers were openly ogling the pair of them, unsurprisingly considering Astoria's current state.

It didn't matter, though It's my own fault, Draco thought. I pushed her too far, so now I can deal with it.

"I'm so sorry," he muttered.

Astoria lowered her hands. There were tears around the hollows of her eyes, but she gave him a small smile.

"It's all right," she said quietly.

"No, it's not. I shouldn't have pushed you. I'm sorry."

Their bags had been dumped onto a spare chair at the table. Astoria fumbled around inside one with one hand and pulled out a fizzing whizbee.

"I've always thought sweets are the best way to make friends," she murmured softly.

Draco took her other hand gently in his; the palm was wet from her eyes.

"I love you, you know."

Astoria squeezed Draco's hand in return.

"I love you, too."