Author's Notes: As some of you might already know, my pen name, Ariana
Malfoy- Lestrange is taken from an RPG on Accio Firebolt that I role-play
in. Ariana is essentially a Malfoy, evil, sarcastic, and the equivalent of
a socialite here in the Muggle world. And yes, I rated this little fic PG-
13, because drinking, and smoking, and profanity will be in this fic, if
not already. Now, just because somebody writes a suicide fic does not mean
they are suicidal. Same with me. I did not write this fic based on my
personal life, though I have experienced much of the jet-setting world, if
you will, and this is really how they act. Not all of them, but a good deal
of them certainly do. I hope I don't offend anybody who's reading this
story by any of this, because I've been in this world, this crazy, surreal
party-world. I absolutely hate alcohol, and smoking, and don't condone it,
but for some reason, I write about it. Anyways, I'm sorry if you get
offended because you're nouveau-riche, or from Rodeo Drive, or the type of
girl who dances on tables until 4 in the morning, or had a nose job, or
live in England, or is a trust-fund baby, or a bimbo, or blonde. Just get
this: these are Ariana Malfoy- Lestrange's opinions, not mine. And keep in
mind that she's cuttingly sarcastic, and kind of nasty. Oh, and I'm sorry
she's an original character. I really don't love original character fics
myself, with some exceptions; so yeah, I'm being hypocritical. Get over it.
;) So, read, and I hope you like it! Oh, and that little button down
there...it's called review. :D
And I almost forgot- any characters, and/or situations in this fic are NOT based on any real people in real life, with the exception of Audrey Lebec, who is in reality my BETA, as you all may know, and she helped so much with this one! But really, nobody who I wrote is based on real life people/situations. ::coughcough::
Being the daughter of two infamous Death Eaters, who are persona non grata in the wizarding world after a little stint they pulled not, so soon after I was born, is no easy job. Yes, I have money. Yes, I am absolutely not entirely hideous. Yes, I am in the most exclusive pureblood circles this part of Europe. But you know what? It's still not easy. Really, it isn't.
I mean; I have so many expectations of me. I have to be perfect. I have to be stunning. I have to be the epitome of the young, rich, well dressed, and impeccably mannered socialite. And I have no destiny whatsoever. Or rather, my destiny is already mapped out for me, like the color coding chart hanging above my bed for my ensembles everyday, it's already laid out, planned, done. My destiny, as I know it, is to marry a rich, young, handsome, evil pureblood, most likely the son of a prestigious Death Eater.
And guess what? I have to be happy about that. I have to be happy that every inch of my future is planned for me. Because that's the person I am, that's the person I was brought up to be, that's the real me, all right. Sure it is.
I think.
Of course it is. Forgive me for my momentary lapse of judgment. After all, was I not raised to be Ariana Malfoy- Lestrange, whose main goal in life is to find the aforementioned husband above, and a fabulous pair of cute kelly- green kitten heels?
Yes, I am also incredibly shallow. Shallow, self-absorbed, and selfish, and jaded, and all those other lovely adjectives you can think of. But you know, I'm not asking for the extreme. Like, I know I would never find a great pair of vintage silver stilettos, the same way I will never find a husband whom I really love. I've come to terms with that now, as my shrink says. Yes, I have a shrink. We all do, at least if you're a Death Eater's kid. How could you not have a shrink?
My shrink is constantly telling me I have a lot of inner angst, and pent-up anger, unresolved issues, a borderline authority personality complex, and a really odd Muggle shoe fetish.
Well, actually, I kind of have a fetish with expensive Muggle designers. More than a fetish, really. I have five closets- one for my shoes, one for my purses, one for my robes, and another for my extensive collection of Muggle clothing. After all, even if you're the daughter of Death Eaters', you do need to wear something under your robes. Most of the time it's expensive Muggle clothing.
Okay, you're probably staring at me in complete, and utter bewilderment. Let's get a couple of key facts straight, shall we?
My full name is Ariana Celeste Malfoy- Lestrange. My mother's name is Bellatrix Black Lestrange, and my father is Roldolphus Lestrange. The Malfoy was tacked onto my last name, because after my parents took a little holiday in Azkaban, the Malfoys were very kind to sort of adopt me, raise me, whatever. To ensure my protection, and well being from the crazy English Ministry of Magic, my Uncle Lucius decided it was for the best to send me off to a tres exclusive private boarding school in the footholds of the French Alps. And no, it's not that Euro-trash, tacky Beauxbatons, it's called Chantainebleu, and like I said it's so exclusive, most people have never heard of it. At Chantainebleu, I dropped the Lestrange from my name, and added Malfoy. It wasn't that I was embarrassed or anything by my parents, it was just safer in case the English Ministry came poking around. But now, I've been brought back to England with a vengeance, and the Lestrange is back on my name. And so is the mystery, and intrigue. Surrounding me, of course.
Another key fact about me: contrary to popular belief, and my own spreading of said popular belief, I am not a real blonde. Yes, it's true I'm really not. Actually, no Malfoy has been naturally blonde since the late eighteenth century, when a certain Hugo Malfoy married a Lady Clarisse Rosier, who was brunette. All three of their children, Philippe, Elisabeth, and Louis were brunette. That is precisely why all Malfoy males are forbidden to marry any pureblood witch who is not naturally blonde, in order to try to restore the original family blond-ness. Well, let me tell you, it isn't exactly working, so right now, all the Malfoy children who appear blonde, aren't. They rely on hair potions, and other things. Even my uncle, and the infamous Draco Malfoy are guilty of it.
But I only told you I wasn't really blonde, so that you wouldn't be judgmental on me when I say common stereotypes about blondes. Take for example, a particularly fruitless shopping expedition in St. Tropez, with my best friend Audrey. We were at this tiny little boutique right by the beach, and these girls, probably fresh out of Rodeo, come in, jabbering, and squealing and squawking in the most unattractive way. One of them had the nerve to actually come up to me and tell me my crystal Christian Louboutin sandals were two seasons ago, when she was wearing a poncho like configuration that looked like it came out of a flea market. So after some death glares, and snide comments of my own, we left the shop. Much to my unhappiness, they showed up at the bistro we were having a quick lunch in, and proceeded to spill her Campari on my Missoni sarong. She sauntered off, and I remember muttering loudly "Stupid blonde nouveau-riche bimbos." Audrey looked at me like I was completely insane. "Ariana...you ARE blonde." She said, picking up a lock of my hair. I rolled my eyes, and told her later at our villa my little secret. She's the only one who's not in the family that knows the secret.
With that assumption cleared up, let's move on to the next one: pureblood girls like me party all the time. Yeah, that's right. But we're not of the dancing on tables till 4am slutty kind. Yes, we drink even though we're underage. Yes, most of us smoke. Yes, we all know how to Apparate, even though once again, we're underage. Yes, we wear amazing clothes. Yes, we are the elite in the Wizarding World. Yes, most of us are jaded, spoiled, selfish trust-fund babies. Get over it, okay?
And Audrey. Let's talk about her. Audrey Anne Lebec, heiress to the Lebec Wand fortune, French, hot-tempered, and dangerously obsessed with my cousin, Draco. She's my best friend, partner in crime, shopping companion, and the only one who did straight vodka shots with me when Rodney Lueringdorf dropped me for Katrina Hollenheim, who had recently gotten caramel lowlights, and her nose finally "fixed". That was in my fourth year, when I was fourteen.
Then we could talk about my drinking problem. Well, it's really not a problem, because to drink is like to breathe in my circuit. And it's not like I'm a binge drinker, or an alcoholic. I can usually hold my liquor well enough. But when I get stressed, dumped, annoyed, or whatever, I always need alcohol. And not like the butterbeer stuff, or even champagne. I like Cosmopolitans, and Kier Royales.
Oh, and we definitely have to discuss the fact that this year was my last year at Chantainebleu, unfortunately. I've already said that I'm back in England, but I didn't say that I'm going to my cousin's school, Hogwarts, which isn't exclusive at all, and the only people who I will associate with there is Draco, and Blaise Zabini, who is actually a total hottie, at least, when I met him in Cannes, he was extremely hot, and flirtatious. Too bad at the time he was dating Madison Burke, but Audrey tells me they've broken up by now. Which makes sense; it must have been at least a couple of weeks ago.
Anyways, so every summer I come to Malfoy Manor in Wiltshire for a couple weeks, then I stay in my beach house in Nice, which I bought two years ago. All my stuff for school is being bought right now, and tomorrow I'm Apparating there at the unholy hour of 9am. Can you even imagine what my hair is going to look like? Thankfully, nobody is coming to see me off, there was another cocktail hour tonight, and I'm sure most of my friends, Audrey included, will be too hung over to wake up until late noon. So I leave alone, and at least weighed without all the stuff I'm bringing- my assistant, Claire, is bringing them some other way.
Well, I guess I'm officially saying au revoir to France, and 'allo to England. Boring, windy, cold, uptight, rainy, gloomy depressing England. I just feel excellent about my home country, don't I? I really can't help it though. I've been in France for most of my life, the only memory I have of England when I was living there, was dark, and a little frightening. The frequent Death Eater meetings held at my father's castle not long after the Dark Lord was vanquished. The odd, almost maniac glint in my mother's eyes that night she left for the Longbottoms, and scent of forbidding, and ominous feeling when she hugged me, the very few times she did.
I have fonder memories of her, when I was even younger. I remember her long raven curls that I always used to play with, sitting in her lap, while she pored over unknown documents. She was much more affectionate, and prettier when she was younger, and before she really became deep in the Inner Circle. No, correction, I think she was always in the Inner Circle, once she began socializing with very important Death Eaters. It just affected her more once she became fanatical about it.
Someone told me recently that she escaped, along with my father, and Uncle Antonin, and others who I knew well as a small child. The sad thing about it is that I have absolutely no desire whatsoever to see my mother, or my father. I was so little when they were taken into Azkaban, they're almost complete strangers to me. I think I also feel subconsciously hurt that they practically abandoned me for this albino evil guy who had a weird obsession with Muggles. They weren't there for me when I spoke my first full sentence, they weren't there when I first went to school, or went shopping on my own. They weren't there for anything. And so I feel like I don't have to be there for them when they need it. What do I owe them? Nothing.
And I know you're reading this, and you're like "Merlin, the girl might actually have a soul! Her heart may not be as freaking cold as it seems."
Well, guess what? I don't have a heart or a soul, and for those of you who are already "mothering" me inside yours, or even possibly thinking of maybe "reforming" me, don't even say it. I'm not reformable, I don't have feelings, I don't have a heart, or soul; I'm not any of that. I'm evil, shallow, jaded, spoiled, selfish, and I'm going to Hell. And I plan on enjoying every single bloody minute of my time in the flames.
And I almost forgot- any characters, and/or situations in this fic are NOT based on any real people in real life, with the exception of Audrey Lebec, who is in reality my BETA, as you all may know, and she helped so much with this one! But really, nobody who I wrote is based on real life people/situations. ::coughcough::
Being the daughter of two infamous Death Eaters, who are persona non grata in the wizarding world after a little stint they pulled not, so soon after I was born, is no easy job. Yes, I have money. Yes, I am absolutely not entirely hideous. Yes, I am in the most exclusive pureblood circles this part of Europe. But you know what? It's still not easy. Really, it isn't.
I mean; I have so many expectations of me. I have to be perfect. I have to be stunning. I have to be the epitome of the young, rich, well dressed, and impeccably mannered socialite. And I have no destiny whatsoever. Or rather, my destiny is already mapped out for me, like the color coding chart hanging above my bed for my ensembles everyday, it's already laid out, planned, done. My destiny, as I know it, is to marry a rich, young, handsome, evil pureblood, most likely the son of a prestigious Death Eater.
And guess what? I have to be happy about that. I have to be happy that every inch of my future is planned for me. Because that's the person I am, that's the person I was brought up to be, that's the real me, all right. Sure it is.
I think.
Of course it is. Forgive me for my momentary lapse of judgment. After all, was I not raised to be Ariana Malfoy- Lestrange, whose main goal in life is to find the aforementioned husband above, and a fabulous pair of cute kelly- green kitten heels?
Yes, I am also incredibly shallow. Shallow, self-absorbed, and selfish, and jaded, and all those other lovely adjectives you can think of. But you know, I'm not asking for the extreme. Like, I know I would never find a great pair of vintage silver stilettos, the same way I will never find a husband whom I really love. I've come to terms with that now, as my shrink says. Yes, I have a shrink. We all do, at least if you're a Death Eater's kid. How could you not have a shrink?
My shrink is constantly telling me I have a lot of inner angst, and pent-up anger, unresolved issues, a borderline authority personality complex, and a really odd Muggle shoe fetish.
Well, actually, I kind of have a fetish with expensive Muggle designers. More than a fetish, really. I have five closets- one for my shoes, one for my purses, one for my robes, and another for my extensive collection of Muggle clothing. After all, even if you're the daughter of Death Eaters', you do need to wear something under your robes. Most of the time it's expensive Muggle clothing.
Okay, you're probably staring at me in complete, and utter bewilderment. Let's get a couple of key facts straight, shall we?
My full name is Ariana Celeste Malfoy- Lestrange. My mother's name is Bellatrix Black Lestrange, and my father is Roldolphus Lestrange. The Malfoy was tacked onto my last name, because after my parents took a little holiday in Azkaban, the Malfoys were very kind to sort of adopt me, raise me, whatever. To ensure my protection, and well being from the crazy English Ministry of Magic, my Uncle Lucius decided it was for the best to send me off to a tres exclusive private boarding school in the footholds of the French Alps. And no, it's not that Euro-trash, tacky Beauxbatons, it's called Chantainebleu, and like I said it's so exclusive, most people have never heard of it. At Chantainebleu, I dropped the Lestrange from my name, and added Malfoy. It wasn't that I was embarrassed or anything by my parents, it was just safer in case the English Ministry came poking around. But now, I've been brought back to England with a vengeance, and the Lestrange is back on my name. And so is the mystery, and intrigue. Surrounding me, of course.
Another key fact about me: contrary to popular belief, and my own spreading of said popular belief, I am not a real blonde. Yes, it's true I'm really not. Actually, no Malfoy has been naturally blonde since the late eighteenth century, when a certain Hugo Malfoy married a Lady Clarisse Rosier, who was brunette. All three of their children, Philippe, Elisabeth, and Louis were brunette. That is precisely why all Malfoy males are forbidden to marry any pureblood witch who is not naturally blonde, in order to try to restore the original family blond-ness. Well, let me tell you, it isn't exactly working, so right now, all the Malfoy children who appear blonde, aren't. They rely on hair potions, and other things. Even my uncle, and the infamous Draco Malfoy are guilty of it.
But I only told you I wasn't really blonde, so that you wouldn't be judgmental on me when I say common stereotypes about blondes. Take for example, a particularly fruitless shopping expedition in St. Tropez, with my best friend Audrey. We were at this tiny little boutique right by the beach, and these girls, probably fresh out of Rodeo, come in, jabbering, and squealing and squawking in the most unattractive way. One of them had the nerve to actually come up to me and tell me my crystal Christian Louboutin sandals were two seasons ago, when she was wearing a poncho like configuration that looked like it came out of a flea market. So after some death glares, and snide comments of my own, we left the shop. Much to my unhappiness, they showed up at the bistro we were having a quick lunch in, and proceeded to spill her Campari on my Missoni sarong. She sauntered off, and I remember muttering loudly "Stupid blonde nouveau-riche bimbos." Audrey looked at me like I was completely insane. "Ariana...you ARE blonde." She said, picking up a lock of my hair. I rolled my eyes, and told her later at our villa my little secret. She's the only one who's not in the family that knows the secret.
With that assumption cleared up, let's move on to the next one: pureblood girls like me party all the time. Yeah, that's right. But we're not of the dancing on tables till 4am slutty kind. Yes, we drink even though we're underage. Yes, most of us smoke. Yes, we all know how to Apparate, even though once again, we're underage. Yes, we wear amazing clothes. Yes, we are the elite in the Wizarding World. Yes, most of us are jaded, spoiled, selfish trust-fund babies. Get over it, okay?
And Audrey. Let's talk about her. Audrey Anne Lebec, heiress to the Lebec Wand fortune, French, hot-tempered, and dangerously obsessed with my cousin, Draco. She's my best friend, partner in crime, shopping companion, and the only one who did straight vodka shots with me when Rodney Lueringdorf dropped me for Katrina Hollenheim, who had recently gotten caramel lowlights, and her nose finally "fixed". That was in my fourth year, when I was fourteen.
Then we could talk about my drinking problem. Well, it's really not a problem, because to drink is like to breathe in my circuit. And it's not like I'm a binge drinker, or an alcoholic. I can usually hold my liquor well enough. But when I get stressed, dumped, annoyed, or whatever, I always need alcohol. And not like the butterbeer stuff, or even champagne. I like Cosmopolitans, and Kier Royales.
Oh, and we definitely have to discuss the fact that this year was my last year at Chantainebleu, unfortunately. I've already said that I'm back in England, but I didn't say that I'm going to my cousin's school, Hogwarts, which isn't exclusive at all, and the only people who I will associate with there is Draco, and Blaise Zabini, who is actually a total hottie, at least, when I met him in Cannes, he was extremely hot, and flirtatious. Too bad at the time he was dating Madison Burke, but Audrey tells me they've broken up by now. Which makes sense; it must have been at least a couple of weeks ago.
Anyways, so every summer I come to Malfoy Manor in Wiltshire for a couple weeks, then I stay in my beach house in Nice, which I bought two years ago. All my stuff for school is being bought right now, and tomorrow I'm Apparating there at the unholy hour of 9am. Can you even imagine what my hair is going to look like? Thankfully, nobody is coming to see me off, there was another cocktail hour tonight, and I'm sure most of my friends, Audrey included, will be too hung over to wake up until late noon. So I leave alone, and at least weighed without all the stuff I'm bringing- my assistant, Claire, is bringing them some other way.
Well, I guess I'm officially saying au revoir to France, and 'allo to England. Boring, windy, cold, uptight, rainy, gloomy depressing England. I just feel excellent about my home country, don't I? I really can't help it though. I've been in France for most of my life, the only memory I have of England when I was living there, was dark, and a little frightening. The frequent Death Eater meetings held at my father's castle not long after the Dark Lord was vanquished. The odd, almost maniac glint in my mother's eyes that night she left for the Longbottoms, and scent of forbidding, and ominous feeling when she hugged me, the very few times she did.
I have fonder memories of her, when I was even younger. I remember her long raven curls that I always used to play with, sitting in her lap, while she pored over unknown documents. She was much more affectionate, and prettier when she was younger, and before she really became deep in the Inner Circle. No, correction, I think she was always in the Inner Circle, once she began socializing with very important Death Eaters. It just affected her more once she became fanatical about it.
Someone told me recently that she escaped, along with my father, and Uncle Antonin, and others who I knew well as a small child. The sad thing about it is that I have absolutely no desire whatsoever to see my mother, or my father. I was so little when they were taken into Azkaban, they're almost complete strangers to me. I think I also feel subconsciously hurt that they practically abandoned me for this albino evil guy who had a weird obsession with Muggles. They weren't there for me when I spoke my first full sentence, they weren't there when I first went to school, or went shopping on my own. They weren't there for anything. And so I feel like I don't have to be there for them when they need it. What do I owe them? Nothing.
And I know you're reading this, and you're like "Merlin, the girl might actually have a soul! Her heart may not be as freaking cold as it seems."
Well, guess what? I don't have a heart or a soul, and for those of you who are already "mothering" me inside yours, or even possibly thinking of maybe "reforming" me, don't even say it. I'm not reformable, I don't have feelings, I don't have a heart, or soul; I'm not any of that. I'm evil, shallow, jaded, spoiled, selfish, and I'm going to Hell. And I plan on enjoying every single bloody minute of my time in the flames.