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Whatever will be, will be.
That was what had been told to a very young Violet Malfoy once upon a time ago by her mother, Lorna. What had been engrained in her soul, forever marking her with a tattoo in her mother's spindly calligraphy. What had turned into her motto as she grew and learned, a motto that stood out amongst the other mottos throughout the Sacred twenty-eight. And yes, while the Malfoys had stood beside sanctimonia vincet semper for centuries, Lorna had engraved que sera sera into her children before they even comprehended what the meaning of it was.
Que sera sera; whatever will be, will be.
What an odd phrase for such a young girl to have learned before she even understood how the real world worked outside of her comfortable, innocent abode at Malfoy Manor. What an odd phrase for a girl who would be shrouded from the pain and terror of the world until death came knocking on her door at seven-years-old and stole her mother from her. What an odd saying for a girl who'd prayed, and prayed, and prayed to every god, deity, and holy name to believe in.
Whatever will be, will be.
Now, at seventeen-years-old and full of a sense of desire for cataclysmic chaos, Violet Lorna Malfoy stands by the motto her mother had taught her as a young girl. For when she receives bad marks on her tests and returns home for punishments from her father; for when she loses yet another friend or family member to Death; for when she is forced to face yet another day with a gaping hole in her chest where her heart should be; for when Violet wakes up and has to tell herself, "Que sera sera. Whatever will be, will be," when she knows it will be a particularly horrible day.
Whatever will be, will be.
And come hell or high water will Violet forget her mantra.
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Malfoy Estate is home to more than fifteen parties, soirees, dinners, and gatherings every year.
Known widely throughout Britain to be one of the more famed manors where most Sacred twenty-eight gatherings are held, the wide sprawling grounds of Malfoy Manor house sixteen peacocks, three gardens, one black cat named Salem, and the Malfoy family, prized and cherished. Abraxas Malfoy leads as the second of the Minister of Magic, a secretary of sorts, and holds the crown title to the Malfoy name to be passed down to his son. Then comes Lucius Malfoy, the heir to the name and seventy-five percent of the family fortune alongside his trust fund. Quickly rising through the ranks at the Ministry, he holds power that every twenty-four-year-old Pureblood in the magical Great Britain desires to hold. Father and son, far more alike than anyone would have expected. Both with pale complexions, long, pale blond hair, and cold, calculating flint-grey eyes, no one could've told the difference between the two men if they stood side by side if one didn't know the differences between the duo.
