Her parents didn't get to choose much in their life. Her proud Slytherin father takes the chances given to him and propels himself forward into his work of choice in repossessing stolen texts. Always a book fiend he doesn't have much in common with his potion loving Ravenclaw mother. But they became friends regardless, and soon enough their parents saw fit to create an alliance between families by marrying them off together. With the joining of crests they became roommates of sorts, living together and fulfilling the obligation of having a heir with Evelyn. 

And while that doesn't exactly mean they don't love her, they don't exactly change much of their routine either. She's handed off to a governess to act like a second mother and raised her with less than proper manners. She roams the manner with dead hazel eyes, her face tucked into a family crested scarf as she looks for something to fill the time. Her mind tumbles into every which direction. Stories unfold to help make things sensible. The pixies watch from the windows as she slips out the servant's door. 

Her lightly clothed form slips down the wetstones of the property; she bounces along down to the lake to try a game she's only heard about. Her fingers wrap around a smooth round stone, she picks it up, rolls it in her hand, and chucks it into the water. It doesn't bounce, she put too much force for that to happen. But after several more tries and a burst of accidental- and incredibly frustrated- magic it skips out towards the deepest, darkest, depths of the murky waters. A satisfied smile melts away any negative feelings she might've had. Her head tilts back and her outstretched hand curls into a fist. Her eyes fall closed to hear the phantom splash of her stone bouncing off the lake. 

When she opens her eyes the first thing her stare catches is the form rising out of the water. It's glistening green mane and matte black body drip with water. It's beady black eyes stare deep into her soul from their positions on either side of it's bowed head. Sitting on the crown of their muzzle is a single wet stone, seemingly entangled by seaweed. She giggles as it kneels in front of her. Her outstretched hand entwines itself into it's mane with each pat.

And then it pulls back, it rears up and she finds that she can't let go. Her body's tugged backwards into the suddenly black as night waters. The lake weighs her clothing down, it adds stones of weight on her body until she can't even think of do anything but weakly thrash against the entanglement she finds herself in. It's blunt teeth dig into the flesh of her leg; it tugs at her and thrashes until the only thing that saves her is another burst of accidental magic that teleports her back into bed. Likely nothing ever happened.

It takes months upon months to get over things and after that she still can't stand to be near the water or under covers. It's after that that she begins to tune things out, she pushes herself into her own little world and ignores the things she doesn't want to hear. She focuses harder on learning the string instruments she only halfheartedly payed attention to in her younger years. It became a kind of outlet to focus on instead. Slowly enough she got better, dropping her attention back down to only occasionally playing for fun. It's soon enough at least, as she has Hogwarts soon. 

She does her best to be friendly, does her best to be warm even if her body always feels to her colder than it should despite the warmest layers she could find to put on. Still, she smiles and just tries to be glad that she didn't get Slytherin. Having to live under a lake would've killed her.