<div class="floatleft">(http://i857.photobucket.com/albums/ab136/mrbunnyhesayno/Kahina1_zpsru82xi0u.jpg)</div><br/><strong>Name ::</strong>Kahina Virgo<br/><strong>Location ::</strong>Seating in stands<br/><strong>House ::</strong>Ravenclaw<br/><strong>Year/Titles ::</strong>6th Year / Prefect<br/><strong>Date/Time ::</strong>sunday Sept. 8, 1988  12:00pm<br/><strong>What ::</strong>Reading a book.... maybe<br/><strong>Tag ::</strong>James<br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">OOC</div><div class="spoiler_body"></div></div><br/><hr/><hr/><br/>This time of year was usually quiet here expect for the occasional team or person coming to practice. Not that it bothered her. It was easy to read here and in her bedroom, when others were out, as well as other places. The Quidditch pitch had to be one of her favorites though. Most ever knew she was here. It was her break away from her peers and other goings on. However, today was peculiarly loud.<br/><br/>Her eyes glanced over her book, Wuthering Heights, to see a crowd of giggling girls. Didn't they have somewhere else to be? She narrowed her eyes as they were all looking down. Curious, she followed that glaze to see why they were all giggling. James. This was not practice time but it didn't look like he was just practicing either. She shook her head lightly and focused back on her book.<br/><br/><em>"Mr. Hindley came home to the funeral; and—a thing that amazed us, and set the neighbours gossiping right and left—he brought a wife with him. What she was, and where she was born, he never informed us: probably, she had neither money nor name to recommend her, or he would scarcely have kept the union from his father." </em><br/><br/>She peeked around her piece of literature to watch a moment. The oohs and ahhs of the girls below making her do so. Her eyes widened as she watched those bludgers go flying at James. She gasped softly and found herself paying attention for a few moments before shaking her head again. He was just showing off for the girls. There was no reason to watch that display. She was not one of those girls. Her glaze tore away from James and back into her story.<br/><br/><em>"She was not one that would have disturbed the house much on her own account. Every object she saw, the moment she crossed the threshold, appeared to delight her; and every circumstance that took place about her: except the preparing for the burial, and the presence of the mourners. I thought she was half silly, from her behaviour while that went on: she ran into her chamber, and made me come with her, though I should have been dressing the children: and there she sat shivering and clasping her hands, and asking repeatedly—’Are they gone yet?’ Then she began describing with hysterical emotion the effect it produced on her to see black; and started, and trembled, and, at last, fell a-weeping—and when I asked what was the matter, answered, she didn’t know; but she felt so afraid of dying! I imagined her as little likely to die as myself. She was rather thin, but young, and fresh-complexioned, and her eyes sparkled as bright as diamonds. I did remark, to be sure, that mounting the stairs made her breathe very quick; that the least sudden noise set her all in a quiver, and that she coughed troublesomely sometimes: but----"</em><br/><br/>Kahina yelped when the book was suddenly snatched out of her hands. Her heart was pounding as she prayed that that was not a bludger that came her away. She looked around herself to see James hovering over her with her book. A hand went over her beating heart as she mumbled, "Blood freaking hell." She took a couple of deep breaths before speaking again. "James! You scared me half to death! Give back my book." She stood and glared at him.