"Oh my, I'm so sorry!"
Nearly Headless Nick looked at the blonde-haired girl standing where he had been floating only a second ago, delicate red lips turning a shade of blue that reminded Nick of Moaning Myrtle as they had carried away her lifeless body on a strecher. Clutching what looked to be a pile of Transfiguration textbooks, her fingers turning white as she tried to keep a grip on them. He watched the poor girl shiver for a moment, then look up at his silver eyes. My, what pretty blue eyes she had. They seemed to sparkle in the fading december light, the dark blue of her Ravenclaw robes only making them stand out even more.
"S'ok, I wasn't looking."
She had a familiar accent, he mused to himself, it sounded almost like his. Could she have come from Berkshire? He wondered as the girl loosened the grip on her book and let the blood return to her elongated fingers. She had such pale skin, almost like a porcelain doll he had seen sitting in a castle he had passed through many a year ago. A smile formed on her face, revealing sparkling, straight white teeth. She must have had a good upbringing, her posture was perfect, her teeth were straighter than a linear equation, everything about her seemed to radiate wealth. Finding his voice, he decided to introduce himself, a smile beginning to grow on his face.
"Sir Nicholas de Mimsy Porpington, pleased to meet you."
He resisted the urge to bow, modern people didn't bow. It was considered odd, he told himself, for one to bow in front of a lady. He watched the ringlets in her hair bounce as she nodded her head and replied.

"Rita Skeeter, nice to meet you Sir Nick."
Just her saying 'Sir Nick' brought back memories, ones he'd thought he'd lost centuries ago. Pictures of elegant women curtsying, dancing (and none of this new rubbish, proper dancing), and enormous feasts, almost rivalling the welcoming feast at Hogwarts. He could feel wrinkles growing around his eyes as he broke out into a grin, laughing slightly.
"Well Miss Skeeter, would you care to go for a walk?"
She giggled, it made her seem very adorable. It was a quiet giggle, sweet and serene, reminding him of a woman in a candy shop handing small children free sweets. Watching those golden blonde ringlets bounce again as she nodded, her lips returning to the shade of red he had seen just before she walked straight into him.
"I'd love to Sir Nick. Miss Skeeter makes me sound much too old!"
"Alright, Rita it is. But you must agree to never call me Sir Nick. I sound like one of the suits of armour."
"Agreed."
And so they went off, walking (or in Nicks case, floating) around the castle, enjoying the last rays of light as the sun retreated to its fortress in the west, letting the moon resume its reign of the winter night.
"So, Rita, what do you want to do when you leave Hogwarts?"