Wet. Cold. How could I do it? I'm five years old for crying out loud. You really think I could paddle a boat into the middle of the lake on my own. Yes mother, I jumped in on purpose. No father, I don't know what I was thinking. Perhaps you should ask Joe. Joe woke me up, Joe put me in the boat, Joe used his wand to… no… no don't send me away. I'll be good! I promise! I'll be good… I'll be good… I'll be-

"Kitta!"

Being shaken awake was not the way she liked to greet her mornings, and usually she would have told the one doing the shaking to shove off, possibly even curse them, but this sounded urgent. Sitting up she glanced at her clock, '6 am? What the bloody hell, this better be important,' and gave a heavy sigh, "What is it?"

"Our trunks! They're gone!" the brown haired girl named Nicole shouted. It took a moment for what she'd said to register in Kitta's mind. I mean, she'd only been up for a minute, minute and a half, tops. Looking down at the end of her bed she scrambled up, pulling the curtains to the side. Sure enough, her trunk was gone. As were the other 4 that belonged in the room.

"Black," Kitta said, standing up quickly, thankful she'd put on her tank top and sweatpants to wear to bed, seeing as how all her clothes were in her trunk. Grabbing her cloak off the hook she pulled it on, going out into the hall. Apparently Nicole wasn't the only early riser. The room next to them had plenty of commotion going on inside. The 7th years.

A girl Kitta wasn't familiar with came out into the hall, demanding if Kitta had taken their trunks, "Look here you little 6th year. What did you do with our things?"

Pulling out her wand Kitta pointed it at the girl, who was presently unarmed, "Assumption kills. I didn't take your damn trunk. Mines gone too. As is every other girls in my room. Though it appears that either the 5th years didn't have theirs taken, or they know something. Go bother someone who cares," she said, her gaze narrowing, pulling her wand down as she left the hallway, taking the stairs down into the common room. So far, no one else was awake. If they were, they hadn't made themselves known. Taking a seat in her favorite chair, she sat, patiently, waiting the rest of the House to wake.

Feeling what must have been an hour drag by, the first signs of people began to come to her ears. Soon there were several 7th year boys, still dressed in their pajamas, one of them particularly outraged. Severus Snape. He was fluidly talking with another boy, a big burly one, with very hairy arms, 'Ugh, put a mask on that one. Save us all,' she thought. Resting her head on her palm, another familiar face came bounding down the stairs, also in his pajamas. Though his consisted of boxer shorts, and only boxer shorts. If Kitta didn't detest him so, he might not be bad looking. The summer's events had made it so Kitta couldn't even stand to be in the same room as the boy, and only did so during classes. Standing up she made sure he had his back to her before attempting an escape, to no avail.

"Ah, Kathryn, darling. So charming to see you. What lovely undergarments you have," came his attempt at charm.

 Get your slimy hands off me, dirt bag.

"Yes, nice to see you too. Bye," she said, jerking her wrist out of his grip, starting up the stairs. Thinking this wasn't a bad mistake she made a beeline for the girl's dormitory stairs, hoping to make it to the top before he reached them. Again, she didn't quite make it. He let her get nearly to the last step before putting his foot on the bottom one, turning the stairs into a stone slide. Kitta jumped, reaching for the final stair, missing and looking angrier than ever on her way down to the end where his hands were waiting for her. Grabbing her by the waist he pulled her up, to which she reached out and slapped him across the face.

"I've asked you nicely not to touch me, but this is getting excessive," she said, her hot Irish temper building. Growing up in a cottage in Northern Ireland, she was raised with 5 brothers, herself being the youngest. It was a wonder this poor girl was sane. Apparently, the boy was raised with a similar upbringing. His hands moving down, gripping her wrists, he held them tightly, squeezing rather hard.

"Now, now, this is no way to treat your fiancée," he said, his tone one of taunting. Kitta flushed, this being the news that she got yesterday. Her parents were marrying her off, and this was the lucky husband-to-be. Pulling at her arms she struggled for a moment before spitting up into his face.

"Let me go," she commanded, again, attempting to get free. The boy growled, pushing her back against the wall, his body pinning hers.

"I'll teach you to spit on me," he muttered, holding her hands above her head with one of his own, his free roaming across her shirt, starting to pull it up. Kitta's knee came up, getting him right between the legs, a groan emitting from his throat as he let her go. Kitta pushed him away, starting to walk away again, but not before he could reach out, grab her shoulder and hit her across the cheek. Falling to the ground Kitta placed a hand over her face as the boy left her there, muttering something about her being a whore.

Leaning against the stone post at the bottom of the stairwell she waited there, hand over her cheek still, listening to the conversations in the room. Apparently, Snape had the same guess she did. Black and his band of fairies. Though they had no way to prove it, plots were now going under consideration for revenge. The steps returning to their normal state she moved up them silently. The door to her dorm room was left open by the last careless girl to go through it, and Kitta closed it sharply behind her. Climbing onto her bed she drew the curtains, casting a silencing spell on each before collapsing onto her bed.

 Screw them, and their 'union of families'. I refuse to marry that… that… thing. Imagine. Someone I hate more than Sirius Black. It must run in the family.