Disclaimer: Harry Potter and his pals belong to JK Rowling. Contrary to popular belief, they are not mine. I wish.
A/N: This is a one-shot, so please don't ask for follow ups and the like. I'm much more of a poet than any other type of writer, so this is sort of poetic. I tried to make it in as much story format as I could. I apologize immensely for the lame title. Feedback is greatly appreciated. Thanks!
She didn't know why she loved him. He had hated her since school had begun. He was always picking on her, calling her names, throwing looks of hatred her way. He was always insulting her, her family, her friends. So when she realized she loved him, she didn't know why. When she saw him standing there, she couldn't bring herself to walk away. She knew that she should. She didn't need to listen to his angry words. When she found herself walking forward, she couldn't tell why. She had slapped him before. He remembered it. It had stung for days. When she walked toward him, he thought she might do it again. He closed his eyes, bracing himself.
She didn't know why she loved him. But, closing the space between them, reaching up on her toes, kissing him as softly as she could, it felt so right. And when he placed his hands on her arms, she thought how perfect everything was, how he must love her too.
He grabbed her arms and pushed her away. He couldn't understand why she loved him. She was confused. The look in his eyes showed no trace of liking, only fiery anger. She hated herself for doing it. She hated herself for assuming he would understand. She hated herself for thinking he might care. She hated herself for thinking he might love her as well.
When she left the room, he let his hand wander to his face. It rested on his cheek where she had slapped him before. He remembered the slap, how it had hurt him for days. The slap had stung, but the kiss had hurt. He didn't think he could keep his guard up much longer.