"I know pretty much everything about you," Remus snapped, eyebrows raised, immediately followed by a huge smile. He knowingly and constantly ridiculed me.

"You do not!"

His lip protruded and with furrowed eyebrows, Remus stared me down, "Yeah, right. Girls pull that 'mysterious' act way too often. You're honestly the easiest person to figure out. Tell me something that you think I do not know."

I looked away from him and stared at the lake.

He laughed again. Just once, but in my head it rang and echoed and I felt my face reddening with anger, every freckle blending into my skin. "Thought so, mate."

I glanced back at him from underneath my hair.

"You are such a child," Remus taunted as he stared down onto the parchment. "What? You think you're such a mystery because you talk enough, but rarely say anything of substance?"

"What the hell is your problem?" I shouted. I couldn't sit next to him any longer because I would choke him in the next five seconds if he continued infantilizing me.

"I don't have a problem," Remus nonchalantly shrugged his shoulders and picked up his books from the grass. He reached for the tree trunk to support him before getting up and cleaning off his trousers.

"You are not walking away while I'm talking to you," I murmured to myself and cried out, "You're insufferable! A know-it-all! You're a hypocrite!"

He spun around and built up his frame to gain even more height over me. "You're a child!"

I hated being humiliated. "Shut up!" I yelled, pushing him in the chest. I hated Remus. I hated him. I've never hated anyone more than him as we stood in this moment, face to face and screaming at each other.

Remus gained back the inch to which I miserably set him back. "No! I'll never stop saying it. You're a child. You're immature. You lead people on!"

"Oh, stop being such a girl about it! You. Are. Not. My. Type." I spat every word, staring right into his face

Remus was momentarily taken aback, but immediately regained his stance and composure, seemingly growing even more in height. Despite my big mouth, I felt small. I felt exactly like a child.

"Then what exactly is your type? Brawny Quidditch player, unable to tie two words together?"

"Well, wouldn't your precious Sirius be upset about what you think of him?"

"Don't put that on me! You know what I meant. Answer the question. Is a Quiddtich player your type?" he shouted, his nostrils flaring.

I stopped stretching from my toes and regained my normal height. I knew what to say, and as I crossed my arms and cocked an eyebrow, I smirked, "No, but I'd prefer a Quidditch player over someone with skin like a cutter and a monthly menstrual cycle that reflects on his already vile character. I have enough of those in my dormitory."

And then Remus left and I didn't feel anything. I didn't feel anything except disgust. I hated him and I hated myself, too.