Anger, annoyance, scorn. Any of these things would not have surprised Astoria. Draco was very much a product of his upbringing and his feelings on her working at Flourish and Blotts had made it perfectly clear how he viewed the plebian pasttime of having a job. Writing for Astoria, however, was not a job. It was a passion. A passion that Draco was... laughing at.
Of all the reactions she could have anticipated, this was not one of them. She also couldn't have predicted how much it hurt. She poured so much of herself into these books, even if they were "silly romance" novels, so much of what she felt and cherished with him and he was... laughing at her.
"Oh," she gasped, heartbroken at the sound of his laughter, her anger forgotten as she suddenly rushed past him to leave the room.