"That's not meant for you." She'd been told with a smile when her childhood self had tugged on the fabric of her mothers wedding dress displayed in the middle of her dressing room. "Patience, little one. Someday you will wear it."
Yule ball
...Comes and goes without her. When she catches wind of it approaching she's quick to isolate herself in the room of requirement for the duration. Next time she sees the light of day spring has arrived.
Poor, sweet old Deek had tried his very best to encourage her to participate and the look on his face when she'd smiled at him in what she hoped was a reassuring way and told him that 'such things weren't meant for her' broke her heart.
Graduation
She's standing in the rafters of the great hall, gazing down on the crowd of her fellow students celebrating their shared achievement. Cheering and tearful goodbyes at the realization that they're about to part ways float their way up to her as she stands motionless, ever the uncomfortable voyeur to these things. It's no surprise that she has been denied the honor of graduating; spending all her years at the school barely attending class, her family status the only reason she'd been allowed to stay for the intended duration of her "studies." She'll be leaving the school this evening just like everyone else only without the prospect of pursuing a career. It doesn't bother her; she has no goals to strive for and carefully avoided hoping for a different outcome.
...Her attention falls on the group of Slytherin students sharing a toast to their future below her. Her expression doesn't change, but she feels herself curl up into a tiny ball behind it.
Not meant for you.
Honesty
Many years pass, as does her mother. Ever perceptive of her daughters intentions, on her deathbed the woman forces the brunette witch to promise that she'll live out her days to the fullest. And so she does. Now alone in the world she uses the small inheritance she's left with to retreat to a small cottage on a cliff overlooking the ocean. It's here she spends her life carefully nurturing chomping cabbages and a number of flowers in her garden, the scent of blooming lavender reminding her of days long past. She tells herself that she's happy, that this is more than she deserves.
She feels it approaching. Her body weakens gradually and once menial tasks become increasingly difficult until one day she's too weak to rise from her bed. She lays there, cottage cold in the early morning hours after the warming fire has burned out with no one left to stoke it. Her cabbages will be alright. Her flowers too. She didn't leave this world a worse place which is the best she could hope for. She's at peace.
...Tears stream down her gaunt cheeks, face contorting into a pitiful grimace unfit for a woman her age as a hoarse wail leaves her. I'm so lonely! I'm so cold! I wanted love! I want to live! Decades of carefully suppressed desires stream out of her in a cascade. All the things she never did, never experienced... Her mothers wedding dress appears in her mind, the haunting white reminding her one last time.
Not for you.
There's a cottage by the ocean. No one lives there.