For the One a Week Competition (200 words)
"Don't you ever get tired of your prefect duty?" Marcus asks dryly.
Gemma rolls her eyes and stands at full height. It isn't a particularly impressive sight sense he's a head taller, but she feels more in control. "Some of us have better things to do than try and figure out new ways to sabotage Oliver Wood," she quips. "Really, your obsession with him is almost romantic."
She supposes she shouldn't enjoy the way his anger twists his lips, but it's too fun. So few would dare talk to him this way.
"Romantic? Hardly. I have much better tastes than that," he says, his eyes wandering up and down her body.
Gemma exhales deeply, resisting the urge to smile. One day, she will give into him. One day, she will get tired of her own games and let him finally win.
"Who? Montague? Hardly a step up from Wood," she teases, chuckling at the way he sputters as a deep red creeps into his cheeks.
"I hate you."
"You don't," she says with a smirk as she pushes past him. "Excuse me. I have things to do."
One day, she'll tell him the truth. But not now. Not today.