The Slap

Why had she done it?

Hermione's head throbbed unpleasantly as she sunk low against her chair, as if there were a boggart within the dark corners of her head, thrashing at it to try and escape. The surroundings she currently inhabited: the mostly empty Hogwarts library, smelling of the aged pages of enchanted books and cedar and mahogany walls would have offered her some solace, if her mind hadn't been replaying the events taken place only minutes ago like a broken record. Her cheeks flushed, as she glanced down awkwardly at her trembling hand; which seemed to be redder than her scarlet face. It was still searing warm in sharp contrast with the cold the rest of her body felt.

She struggled to regain her composure and think of the homework she had to complete, all the daunting tasks ahead...yet she couldn't pry her mind off of the startling reality of what she had done. Her emerald eyes gleamed almost more so than Crookshanks' ever could, and her burning hand clenched into a fist...

She, Hermione Granger, had slapped Draco Malfoy.

And not just slapped.

She had slapped him hard.

In the face.

She felt, however, oddly exhilarated, besides the fact she was also feeling enormous guilt rest upon her shoulders like lead tomes that refused to be moved. Draco was simply being...well, a Malfoy, she had later reasoned, after having finally exploded like a heated tea kettle after he had insulted Hagrid and his hippogriff, Buckbeak. And she shouldn't have done...what she did.

After all, she had never in her life slapped anyone, at least not quite as hard and angrily as she had Draco.

Yet how on Earth could she bring herself to apologize? Both she and Draco were smug and stubborn-she couldn't deny that no matter how hard she had tried to-and she would have quite a difficult task at hand, bringing herself to admit she was wrong about something (as evidenced by Scabbers' death and her adamant belief Crookshanks had taken no part in the murder), and Draco, accepting her apology?

Ha!

He never would, especially since he was the son of Lucius Malfoy, who had hammered in to his son's head while in his care that Mudbloods were some of the lowest, filthiest creatures in the planet. Yet, the very power and satisfaction Hermione had gotten by pushing out all her frustrations physically at Draco was addictive. She loved witnessing his defeat whenever she could-his usually smug features turning into horror and weakness. And the odd thing was that when she had slapped him, he hadn't fought back, or bickered, or said anything remotely vile or wicked to her in return. He had simply walked away with a look of astonishment upon his face, and...was it hurt she had seen flicking in his usually cold, gray eyes? She willed herself not to delve into thoughts so ludicrous and farfetched.

A soft smile came upon her lips as she reminisced, enraptured within her narcissistic reveries of the sheer look of bewilderment upon the young Malfoy's face when she had caught him off guard and gotten the best of him.

It was almost a secret fantasy of hers, domineering Draco as if she were the Malfoy and he the mudblood. Then he would obey her every whim, bow to her, and do her work (although she dismissed it as 'cheating' in her mind, kissing her feet...then higher, across her legs...

To her most forbidden areas-

A disgruntled groan of the door and a sharp twist of the knob suddenly jerked Hermione rather violently from her girlish fantasies. Upon seeing who it was that had entered the library, she hid, sinking her face behind a rather large, leather-bound book, keeping herself as hidden as she could against the protection of the ancient, crumbling pages, as she was also blushing furiously from realizing just what she had been imagining before she were rudely interrupted.

She heard none other than Draco's velvety voice, followed by fits of laughter from Crabbe and Goyle, their feet scuffling across the rickety library ground as if a herd of elephants had plagued Hogwarts. She wondered slowly in her mind what they were doing in the library of all places, when she blatantly reminded herself that, although he was a troublemaker, Draco was still very intelligent, although his two...comrades were rather lacking in that area.

Slowly, the realization Crabbe and Goyle were walking-reluctantly-out of the library registered within her disheveled mind as she watched them out of the corner of her eye. She expected Malfoy to be walking behind them, a defiant smirk on his pompous face as always, yet oddly, befitting a strange fascination within her curious mind, he didn't. As she placed her book down, her blushing having ceased, she looked around, and-

-found Draco had taken a seat in the same table as she, sitting right across from her. He was hunched over a thick book, his platinum blond hair facing her, as his head was dipped down, low in concentration.

Glancing almost nervously at him, she realized she had to say something remotely apologetic, or at least sympathetic towards him, because she knew if she didn't, she'd be more haunted than the Shrieking Shack itself with immense guilt.

"M..."

Her desperate attempt to catch his attention fell upon deaf ears, partly because Draco seemed absorbed within his book and partly because she was having great difficulty stuttering out his last name. Hermione had never been the social butterfly-but a mere bookworm-and had never truly needed to apologize to anyone recently but Ron. Yet there was no way she would end up crying to Draco of all people about how sorry she was, mostly because part of her still remembered having thoroughly enjoyed slapping him.

And so, she tried again,

"Malfoy?"

This time, Draco's cold, steel orbs rose up, clashing with her amber as she caught his attention, filled with shock and curiosity. Strangely, there was no hatred in them as usual- yet she suspected that, since whenever she really saw him was around Harry, most of that hatred was geared towards him.

"What do you want?"

He paused for a moment, as if carefully considering what to say next,

"Hermione."

She became flabbergasted suddenly, staring, eyes wide, mouth agape.

He had actually called her by her first name? Not Granger or even mudblood? Had her slap scrambled his brains?!

"I...why-"

At the look on her face, Draco let out a rich laugh,

"Are you asking why I had Crabbe and Goyle leave? Why I called you Hermione? Honestly, for a know-it-all, you should have more common sense."

He sneered, glancing expectantly, almost testily at the confused mudblood.

"I-"

She desperately placed a mask of loathing upon her face, realizing Draco had some sort of game plan beneath all this absurd talk,

"Well, Draco, you obviously wanted to study alone. And I'm glad you've finally become clever enough to use my name properly-perhaps that slap straightened you out!"

She declared icily, waiting, like Crookshanks ready to pounce upon its prey, for a response.

She realized by Draco's sullen expression that, somewhere in his heart-of-heart-of-tiniest-hearts, she had stricken a nerve. His eyes narrowed like a serpent, and she felt her stomach tighten.

He leered at her,

"Well...50 points from Gryffindor,"

He sneered, "I came here alone because I needed to speak to you..."

"Granger," He added, a jagged edge to his low voice, "But Miss Mudblood is obviously too good now, isn't she?"

Hermione's jaw tightened. For the second time in her life, she felt pity and regret for Malfoy. Realizing how obviously harsh her retort had sounded, she cringed,

"Draco...I-I'm...sorry..." She replied with great difficulty, "I didn't mean to say that."

Yet it would take a lot more to sway her pride and have her apologize for that slap.

"I don't need your apologies, Granger," Draco spat icily, "But what I do need (sadly I might add), from you is...help."

Hermione gave him a suspicious stare,

"Help? What kind of help?"

"Oh, nothing with too much physical contact, if that's what you were hoping,"

Draco's voice dripped with disgust, but she read a message quite different within his penetrating eyes. Had he just shot her a sexual innuendo? She refused to be swayed.

"I'm glad I don't have to touch a filthy snake like you, especially when you snog a girl every other night. Could get cursed just standing near you!"

At this, Draco's brow quirked, and a malicious grin spread across his handsome features,

"Jealous?" He practically purred.

Hermione, startled, mentally urged herself not to turn tomato red.

"Never," She lied horribly, her voice cracking as she had replied.

He chuckled,

"What I need is you to teach me a few things before our exams. Just some spells I missed and whatnot. I added a few classes to my schedule recently, and-coincidentally-I spoke to Snape about it, then McGonagall, who said you'd help me get from class to class."

Her heart sank like a ship beneath the liquid of her knotted stomach.

Surely he was lying?

Why would McGonagall pair them up together?

Why did she have to show him her secret?

What if he misused it?

What was going on?

She grit her teeth,

"What are you up to, Draco?"

At this, he laughed,

"Whatever do you mean, 'Mione?"

Her fists clenched,

"Don't. Call. Me. That. Ever."

"Relax. I just want to be Head Boy someday, Granger, that's all."

"And if I refuse to help you?"

Draco, at first, stiffened, yet soon a soft, and then malicious grin spread across his face, as if he were a platinum-blond, gray-eyed, paler version of the Cheshire Cat.

At that moment she wished he would disappear.

"You remember that slap...? And, you remember your clean record? The requirements for Head Girl...not even a mark on that record..."

Hermione stared in utter disbelief,

"You...you wouldn't," She gasped.

"That's where you're wrong. I would,"

She nodded slowly, forcing herself to digest completely what she had just heard, yet resisting the urge to regurgitate them back in Draco's smug face. Staring, gaze never wavering; the two appeared as stone statues, Hermione occasionally shaking with rage,

"What first?"

"I knew you'd come around."

Draco chuckled, as Hermione held her hands that had been craving another slap across his face, firmly beneath the desk.

The Malfoy-Granger power struggle was about to begin.