Originally designed as a snapshot, but if you have an idea and want to join, send me a PM

Outfit
It wasn't quite curfew. There was still enough time to make it from the Room of Requirement down to the Slytherin dungeons. Down down down. Like a whirlpool, sucking everything from her soul and out of her body. It was left empty, only being filled with music. Music. Oh how she loved music.

But even her beautiful Dusha, her grand piano of solid ebony wood, lay silent. Like her piano, Demitria Strelnikov lay on the stone floor, completely silent. She wasnt even on her normal pile of pillows. She was simply on the cold, hard, stone. Her ghostly green eyes had become even more pale in the months following the August full moon. They no longer sparkled with shades of jade and emerald. They had a steady, deep light with that lied. And no one knew just how much.

Currently, her eyes were cast to the ceiling of her room. There was a lazy focus to her eyes as if she wasn't quite present. As if nothing was actually real. Her lips had quirked into a half smile. And it wasn't; everything was a lie. Even her sanctuary didn't exist beyond the realm of Hogwarts. It was an illusion of the home she had grown up in.
The stone walls sloped into a domed ceiling, the dark grey of the stone cold and haunting. The windows were nearly floor to ceiling and stained glass in a thousand colors. On one wall there was a massive fireplace that usually crackled with a warm glow, but currently lay silent. There was one ornate rug by the fire covered with pillows.

For the past month, that rug had been the only place she had been able to have her nightmares in peace. The nights she spent in her own dormitory were plauged with forcing the nightmares within herself, forbidding herself to scream. It was like being trapped in a box. She woke up in the mornings in pain, and feeling far more tired than after a DADA practical. In her Stone Hall, she could lie among the silk pillows and scream until her throat was raw. But when she got up, she could function enough to go through the day with her perfect mask placed on her royal face.

Ha. Royal. She was being held in high regard by the school. Maybe even more so than Kitty or Livi, but only because she branched out. She didn't take part in the war for the crown. She was a true Aristocrat, one who was not out for pain or blood. Just fame and fortune. The pureblooded Russian beauty with money and connections.

What was she really? A veela muggle with a criminal father. But no one knew. A girl who did not sleep and did not eat. No one knew. A girl with a broken heart. No one knew. So alone but once again, no. one. knew. During the day she smiled and nibbled daintily on fruits. She laughed and conversed and had even thrown her name in the Goblet of Fire. But for what? And illusion.

Even her hall was empty. Ever since Leon had graduated, there was a gaping hole and nothing could fill it. Perhaps her life would have been easier with Leon. No, her life would have been perfect. He was her opposite and they flowed together effortlessly. Instead, in a night of blood and Charm, she had fallen for her best friend who had proceeded to treat her like shit. Like she didn't even exist. The children of privilege and murderers and money, they were dark and light and together, they made the world explode.

And no one had been able to fix the world since. Because Huck had been attacked by her father and she felt a guilt so deep, nothing could fix it. He was usually the one who loved her unconditionally and helped her, but he was busy with Gracie and she was happy. At the same time, she was jealous and guilty all at the same time.

Even Kitty was busy in her war with Livi. Two of her friends spilling blood and guts and all a manner of pretty poisons. No time for a double-crossing, yet supremely loyal follower like her.

Everyone else came and went. And she was supremely alone.

In her stone hall, she let tears slide down her face. It was October 1st. One month had gone by and her mask was still strong. But inside she was caving in and did not know how she was going to survive the next two years.
But that was too far. Her daily decision remained. Stay and scream? Or leave and rot inside?