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Medea Morwen Grace Malfoy
08 April 2009 @ 10:36 am
I love the use of symbolism in literature, and lately I especially love J K Rowling's use of it in her Harry Potter books. One aspect of what I love is that symbolism is the language of God. If you want to communicate to someone's, or your own, divinity, the language you use is symbolism. So, you can be telling a story to someone's intellect, amusing it, and also be telling a deeper story with this other language, and unconsciously the person will understand.

When I recognize that an author is using symbolism I am always intrigued to understand what their other message is, and sometimes the translated symbolic message is so advanced, and so not what the author appears to be about, that I wonder if they have included their symbolism unconsciously, and the message is directly from their God.

J K Rowling, however, is using symbolic language quite consciously, and in a common sense sort of way. Here is a bit of it:

Air - this is Ravenclaw house. It's animal is the golden Eagle. it's emblem is the tiara of Roweena Ravenclaw. It's colors are blue and bronze
Location: Ravenclaw Tower, which is located on the west side of the castle
The common room, like the other House common rooms, is decorated in House colours (blue and bronze silk wall hangings, in this case, and a midnight-blue carpet decorated with stars). The room is wide, circular, and very airy, with a domed ceiling painted with stars, and walls with graceful arched windows that provide a spectacular view of the surrounding mountains. There are bookcases, tables, and chairs, and opposite the entrance is another door leading to the dormitories. Beside this door is a plinth on which stands a life-size statue in white marble of Rowena Ravenclaw wearing her diadem

Fire - this is Gryffindor. It's animal is the Lion. It's emblem is the sword. it's colors are red and gold. The entrance is located behind a large painting of a Fat Lady in a pink silk dress. If you know the right password to tell her, she swings open to reveal a round opening in the wall. The common room contains a lot of squashy armchairs, a fireplace, and tables. The fireplace is connected to the Floo Network.

Earth - this is Hufflepuff. It's animal is the black Badger, a burrowing animal. It's emblem is the cup of Helga Hufflepuff. It's colors are yellow and black. Of their quarters we hear - "as dissimilar as possible" from the Potions classroom. As we have seen in the other common rooms, it is decorated in House colours, which in this case means that there are lots of yellow hangings; like Gryffindor Tower, it has a lot of comfortable armchairs. There are "little underground tunnels leading to the dormitories, all of which have perfectly round doors, like barrel tops" (BLC, JKR).

Water - This is Slytherin House. It's animal is the snake. It's emblem is the locket of Salazar Slytherin, whose secretive and enclosing properties are comparable to the chamber of secrets. It's colors are silver and green. The Slytherin common room is a low-ceilinged, dungeon-like room with greenish lamps and chairs, with skulls all around and views into the lake.

This symbolism would identify the houses with the body so: head - Ravenclaw, heart - Gryffindor, stomach - Hufflepuff, and lower abdomen - Slytherin. It also identifies certain houses with directions. Ravenclaw is on the west side of the castle, thus intellect is associated with west, and loftiness in general. And we can deduce that if the mountains are to the west, around the castle than the lake must be to the east, and thus Slytherin is associated with east and emotion, especially painful emotion as is further demonstrated by the painful childhood of Snape, and the suicide of it's ghost, the Bloody Baron. This leaves north and south for the other two houses. North is traditionally associated with spirituality and south with physicality, so very likely north belongs to Gryffindor and south to Hufflepuff, though I am only guessing.

She has kept with traditional symbolism for directions in so far as I can tell, but has broken with tradition and used common sense symbolism for their emblems. Tradition associates the sword with air/intellect, the cup with water/emotion, the wand with fire/soul or spirit, and the platter or coin with earth/physicality. Perhaps because everyone had wands she needed to change things, or perhaps she wanted symbols that added something to our understanding of the properties of the four elements. She gave Air a Tiara, quite an appropriate symbol of mental brilliance. Fire was given the sword. The sword is truth, always - as far as I have seen. Is this to say that it is spirit that is the source of bravery, and that spirit is the source of truth. I think so. Earth is given the cup, and it is symbolic of kindness and generousity, which Helga Hufflepuff displayed well. It sort of speaks to plenty, and the generosity of nature, which feeds and suports us and gives us this lovely play ground to evolve in. And water got a locket, a sort of secret chamber in which evil was hidden. That goes well with her story, but is she giving water a bad rap? Not if you think of water as a force for chaos and erosion, which it is. Also, she has identified water with negative emotions; the green and murky kind which we hide from others so that they perhaps fester in secrecy. Jealousy. Envy. Insecurity. Draco Malfoy displays all of these.

The four house ghosts give us more confirmation of, and information about J K Rowling's ideas on the four elements. I have already mentioned the pain which drove the Bloody Baron to murder and suicide. But the Fat Friar is also apt for Hufflepuff, as is the cold maiden, Helena Ravenclaw. Nearly Headless Nick is a bit of a puzzle. Does she mean to say that people driven by spirit, the truly heroic, often don't pause to think. They aren't so much clever as virtuous? This is certainly true of Harry, throughout the book. He does the right thing, usually without regard for his own well being. And it is true of Neville, when he defies his friends in the first book and Lord Voldemort in the last.

The four friends - Lupin, Sirius, James, and Peter also give us more to ponder. Lupin, associated with the moon, and painful emotions seems to be the watery one. James, the seeker, would be fire. Sirius, as different from his family as he could be, and named after the brightest star would be air. And Peter the rat would be earth. Each gives us another view of these elemental personalities. Lupin is filled with painful emotion but he takes it to a different place than the typical slytherin. Instead of tearing others down to feel better about himself, he has humility. James shows us the negative side of fire, arrogance and thoughtlessness. Sirius is an air personality with passion, he deeply loves James, and is a man of action. Recall also that Sirius, the star was called the dog star, and the scorcher, as it seemed to herald in the hottest days of summer, the dog days. Peter seems to be the dark side of earth, a survivalist; one who will betray anything for the sake of his own physical survival.

There is another tradition which associates the four elements with the four upper chakras. These correspond to the endocrine glands in the human body. In this tradition water is associated with the Thymus, near the heart. Air to the Thyroid, in the throat. Fire to the Pineal gland which regulates wakefulness and sleep, and is located near the back of the brain. And Earth, as diamond, the crown chakra and master gland. This symbolism is seen in our common playing card deck - water is hearts, earth is diamonds, fire is clubs(a descendant of the tarot suit of wands), and air is spades(a descendant of the tarot suit of swords). In this tradition the four fixed signs of the zodiac - Taurus/earth, Leo/fire, Scorpio/water and Aquarius/air - also correspond to the four upper chakras. These are the four living animals mentioned in the bible, and are to be seen on old European cathedrals, with the eagle replacing the scorpion, a well known alternative symbol. Their importance is that the three lower chakras control everything that makes one human, in a muggle sense of the word; while the four upper seals represent evolution spiritually. The heart chakra is love. The throat chakra is expression of love. the pineal is seeing Divinity in all people and things. And, the pituitary is seeing the Divinity of self.

The four treasures of the Tuatha De' Danann fall into this tradition, with the Undry Cauldron corresponding to water and the heart chakra due to it's power of feeding and healing; the Sword of Nuada being a sword of truth equates with air and the throat chakra, speaking truth being a sure spiritual weapon against ignorance; The Lugh's spear Luin symbolises fire and the quickening when the pineal is activated; and the Lia Fail, stone of kingship, represents earth, exalted. The king was also the spiritual leader of his people. He was earth exalted, and thus the stone recognized him.

It is possible certain characters in the Harry Potter books are meant to exemplify these upper four, but it is not explicitly shown. However the three lower chakras/seals are seen in the deathly hallows. The three lower ones are sexuality; especially male, as the female sexual glands are higher, and more associated with the second seal/chakra, which is emotional pain. And the third is power, the will to have our own way, to control. As deathly hallows we see the first seal in the wand, which is a power tool, but more brutish, and phallic. The second seal/chakra, emotional pain (people who dwell primarily in this seal are very psychic, and likely to see thinks of the next world) is symbolized by the black stone. The cloak of invisibility is left to correspond to the third seal/chakra, and at first it seems an ill fit, but if true power comes from knowledge, what better way to gain knowledge than to be able to go anywhere undetected. That Harry becomes master of the three is to say that he has evolved beyond the human condition, and of course the voluntary self sacrifice, for love of his friends and peers, and subsequent resurrection, makes him a Christ-like figure of the sacrificial lamb sort.
 
 
Medea Morwen Grace Malfoy
02 March 2009 @ 02:28 pm
I love the use of symbolism in literature, and lately I especially love J K Rowling's use of it in her Harry Potter books. One aspect of what I love is that symbolism is the language of God. If you want to communicate to someone's, or your own, divinity, the language you use is symbolism. So, you can be telling a story to someone's intellect, amusing it, and also be telling a deeper story with this other language, and unconsciously the person will understand.

When I recognize that an author is using symbolism I am always intrigued to understand what their other message is, and sometimes the translated symbolic message is so advanced, and so not what the author appears to be about, that I wonder if they have included their symbolism unconsciously, and the message is directly from their God.

J K Rowling, however, is using symbolic language quite consciously, and in a common sense sort of way. Here is a bit of it:

Air - this is Ravenclaw house. It's animal is the golden Eagle. it's emblem is the tiara of Roweena Ravenclaw. It's colors are blue and bronze
Location: Ravenclaw Tower, which is located on the west side of the castle
The common room, like the other House common rooms, is decorated in House colours (blue and bronze silk wall hangings, in this case, and a midnight-blue carpet decorated with stars). The room is wide, circular, and very airy, with a domed ceiling painted with stars, and walls with graceful arched windows that provide a spectacular view of the surrounding mountains. There are bookcases, tables, and chairs, and opposite the entrance is another door leading to the dormitories. Beside this door is a plinth on which stands a life-size statue in white marble of Rowena Ravenclaw wearing her diadem

Fire - this is Gryffindor. It's animal is the Lion. It's emblem is the sword. it's colors are red and gold. The entrance is located behind a large painting of a Fat Lady in a pink silk dress. If you know the right password to tell her, she swings open to reveal a round opening in the wall. The common room contains a lot of squashy armchairs, a fireplace, and tables. The fireplace is connected to the Floo Network.

Earth - this is Hufflepuff. It's animal is the black Badger, a burrowing animal. It's emblem is the cup of Helga Hufflepuff. It's colors are yellow and black. Of their quarters we hear - "as dissimilar as possible" from the Potions classroom. As we have seen in the other common rooms, it is decorated in House colors, which in this case means that there are lots of yellow hangings; like Gryffindor Tower, it has a lot of comfortable armchairs. There are "little underground tunnels leading to the dormitories, all of which have perfectly round doors, like barrel tops" (BLC, JKR).

Water - This is Slytherin House. It's animal is the snake. It's emblem is the locket of Salazar Slytherin, whose secretive and enclosing properties are comparable to the chamber of secrets. It's colors are silver and green. The Slytherin common room is a low-ceilinged, dungeon-like room with greenish lamps and chairs, with skulls all around and views into the lake.

This symbolism would identify the houses with the body so: head - Ravenclaw, heart - Gryffindor, stomach - Hufflepuff, and lower abdomen - Slytherin. It also identifies certain houses with directions. Ravenclaw is on the west side of the castle, thus intellect is associated with west, and loftiness in general. And we can deduce that if the mountains are to the west, around the castle than the lake must be to the east, and thus Slytherin is associated with east and emotion, especially painful emotion as is further demonstrated by the painful childhood of Snape, and the suicide of it's ghost, the Bloody Baron. This leaves north and south for the other two houses. North is traditionally associated with spirituality and south with physicality, so very likely north belongs to Gryffindor and south to Hufflepuff, though I am only guessing.

She has kept with traditional symbolism for directions in so far as I can tell, but has broken with tradition and used common sense symbolism for their emblems. Tradition associates the sword with air/intellect, the cup with water/emotion, the wand with fire/soul or spirit, and the platter or coin with earth/physicality. Perhaps because everyone had wands she needed to change things, or perhaps she wanted symbols that added something to our understanding of the properties of the four elements. She gave Air a Tiara, quite an appropriate symbol of mental brilliance. Fire was given the sword. The sword is truth, always - as far as I have seen. Is this to say that it is spirit that is the source of bravery, and that spirit is the source of truth. I think so. Earth is given the cup, and it is symbolic of kindness and generosity, which Helga Hufflepuff displayed well. It sort of speaks to plenty, and the generosity of nature, which feeds and supports us and gives us this lovely play ground to evolve in. And water got a locket, a sort of secret chamber in which evil was hidden. That goes well with her story, but is she giving water a bad rap? Not if you think of water as a force for chaos and erosion, which it is. Also, she has identified water with negative emotions; the green and murky kind which we hide from others so that they perhaps fester in secrecy. Jealousy. Envy. Insecurity. Draco Malfoy displays all of these.

The four house ghosts give us more confirmation of, and information about J K Rowling's ideas on the four elements. I have already mentioned the pain which drove the Bloody Baron to murder and suicide. But the Fat Friar is also apt for Hufflepuff, as is the cold maiden, Helena Ravenclaw. Nearly Headless Nick is a bit of a puzzle. Does she mean to say that people driven by spirit, the truly heroic, often don't pause to think. They aren't so much clever as virtuous? This is certainly true of Harry, throughout the book. He does the right thing, usually without regard for his own well being. And it is true of Neville, when he defies his friends in the first book and Lord Voldemort in the last.

The four friends - Lupin, Sirius, James, and Peter also give us more to ponder. Lupin, associated with the moon, and painful emotions seems to be the watery one. James, the seeker, would be fire. Sirius, as different from his family as he could be, and named after the brightest star would be air. And Peter the rat would be earth. Each gives us another view of these elemental personalities. Lupin is filled with painful emotion but he takes it to a different place than the typical slytherin. Instead of tearing others down to feel better about himself, he has humility. James shows us the negative side of fire, arrogance and thoughtlessness. Sirius is an air personality with passion, he deeply loves James, and is a man of action. Recall also that Sirius, the star was called the dog star, and the scorcher, as it seemed to herald in the hottest days of summer, the dog days. Peter seems to be the dark side of earth, a survivalist; one who will betray anything for the sake of his own physical survival.

There is another tradition which associates the four elements with the four upper chakras. These correspond to the endocrine glands in the human body. In this tradition water is associated with the Thymus, near the heart. Air to the Thyroid, in the throat. Fire to the Pineal gland which regulates wakefulness and sleep, and is located near the back of the brain. And Earth, as diamond, the crown chakra and master gland. This symbolism is seen in our common playing card deck - water is hearts, earth is diamonds, fire is clubs(a descendant of the tarot suit of wands), and air is spades(a descendant of the tarot suit of swords). In this tradition the four fixed signs of the zodiac - Taurus/earth, Leo/fire, Scorpio/water and Aquarius/air - also correspond to the four upper chakras. These are the four living animals mentioned in the bible, and are to be seen on old European cathedrals, with the eagle replacing the scorpion, a well known alternative symbol. Their importance is that the three lower chakras control everything that makes one human, in a muggle sense of the word; while the four upper seals represent evolution spiritually. The heart chakra is love. The throat chakra is expression of love. the pineal is seeing Divinity in all people and things. And, the pituitary is seeing the Divinity of self.

The four treasures of the Tuatha De' Danann fall into this tradition, with the Undry Cauldron corresponding to water and the heart chakra due to it's power of feeding and healing; the Sword of Nuada being a sword of truth equates with air and the throat chakra, speaking truth being a sure spiritual weapon against ignorance; Lugh's spear Luin symbolizes fire and the quickening when the pineal is activated; and the Lia Fail, stone of kingship, represents earth, exalted. The king was also the spiritual leader of his people. He was earth exalted, and thus the stone recognized him.

It is possible certain characters in the Harry Potter books are meant to exemplify these upper four, but it is not explicitly shown. However the three lower chakras/seals are seen in the deathly hallows. The three lower ones are sexuality; especially male, as the female sexual glands are higher, and more associated with the second seal/chakra, which is emotional pain. And the third is power, the will to have our own way, to control. As deathly hallows we see the first seal in the wand, which is a power tool, but more brutish, and phallic. The second seal/chakra, emotional pain (people who dwell primarily in this seal are very psychic, and likely to see thinks of the next world) is symbolized by the black stone. The cloak of invisibility is left to correspond to the third seal/chakra, and at first it seems an ill fit, but if true power comes from knowledge, what better way to gain knowledge than to be able to go anywhere undetected. That Harry becomes master of the three is to say that he has evolved beyond the human condition, and of course the voluntary self sacrifice, for love of his friends and peers, and subsequent resurrection, makes him a Christ-like figure of the sacrificial lamb sort.
 
 
Current Mood: artisticartistic
 
 
Medea Morwen Grace Malfoy
16 November 2006 @ 12:31 pm
My mother was Lucius's first cousin. She married a third cousin, also a Malfoy, and moved to Boston, where my father's family held properties on Beacon Hill, and Martha's Vineyard. When I was quite young still, we divided our time between Boston and The Island. But after my father's death (he contracted Dragon Pox, an affliction our family has a curious weakness to, perhaps owing to our custom of arranged marriages...?) Mother retired to The Island, from there managing her coup and becoming chief Malfoy of that region.
Needless to say Mother was quite busy, and I led a very free life untill I was perhaps three; or so I am told. I have also been told that it was this same excess of freedom which spoiled me, but I will get to that later.
The house on Martha's Vineyard was a huge, rambling affair dating from early colonial times, that had been overdressed in copious gingerbread work in the late 1800s by my father's well-meaning mother. The old place looked ridiculous, rather like a dour pilgrim force by some mischance to done a Southern Belle's laces; nevertheless, I was quite taken with it as a child. There seemed an endless quality to it's attics and cupboards. I could always be sure to find something new hidden away, to get into on a rainy day. And the house was built just a bit back from the shore, a situation any child would love. On the other three sides the house was surrounded by hoary old sugar maples, oaks, and pine, which were forever dropping branches upon our roof, or being blasted by lightening.
The excessive freedom of my early childhood was soon enough reined in. A young witch must be properly educated, I was told one day. The next, an elderly aunt arived to begin it. Aunty, as I was instructed to call her, started me right away on table manners, the primary thrust being to hold my tongue at all times unless spoken to. Then we began to perfect the art of foot massage, a skill, Aunty assured, me every young witch should cultivate. We took a stab at the three Rs, then turned to other more important matters, such as poise and proper grooming, and a bit more foot massage, which is a tricky subject to master.
My next tutor was much more rigorous, and at age nine I was enrolled at Beaux Batons, the traditional school for young women in the Malfoy family.
Also traditional was that we young witches should spend our holidays in Poitou, at The Malfoy's, under the supervision of Draconia. Thus Grandmere would come to know us. We each hopefully attempted to impress her, with much helpful advice from our mothers, so that she would perhaps take special care in arranging our lives. In my mind, the fact that she has lived to such a ripe age proves she must have done a fair job at it. With one thing and another, Mother's advice, and my special skills, I soon was calling the old woman, Granny, as all of her favorites did, and was spending my summers in France, as well as holidays.
One of Granny's duties, her chief duty to we who were her maids, was to oversee the deflowering of virgins. Not personally, of course, but to arrange with whom that part of our education was to take place, and see to the details, travel arrangements and such. This is not as suprising as it might sound at first, and certainly not a intended as a decadent thing. You see, in the wizarding world it is understood that the attitude of the parents, in the act of procreation, passes along to the child. So that a child created out of lust, for instance, is a lesser child than one conceived in compassion, or even love. So sexuality, rather than being allowed to develope according to chance, in a harsh world, where young witches and wizards are too often exploited or violated in such a way that they are emotionally scarred, perhaps for the rest of their lives, is delicately introduced, and the proper attitude cultivated. And, of course there are many practcal aspects to be learned, potions and charms pertinent to the subject, and other such.
How well one does actually is reported back to Granny, becomming part of her future decissions regarding marriage. For instance, a youth who's attitude is flawed toward indolence, would be married to a witch of feiry disposition; or a witch who is cold hearted might be married to an overly passionate man. The idea being to ballance out flaws and create a greater new generation every generation. It is done with the consent of all parties involved. No one is ever coersed into their first sexual experience, or told whom they must accept as first lover. Of course the system is only as good as the people who are a part of it, so I shouldn't expect too many muggle families ought try this approach to things. I hear muggles have an aversion to this sort of thing anyway.
So, the idea is to procreate properly, the side effect is that the majority of us are excellent lovers, and have an attitude of disdain, even disgust, toward what we think of as low, animal (some say muggle) sex (some say rutting). Again you may imagine the trail of broken hearted would-be lovers who were not up to snuff, and muggle-borns who understand none of these things.
What I am leading up to, of course, is my own deflowering.

LuciusCollapse )
 
 
Medea Morwen Grace Malfoy
15 November 2006 @ 08:43 am
In this life, or timeline if you prefer, my name is Grace Malfoy. No doubt you will be familliar with my surname, as it has recently been made unaccountably notorious. So notorious, in fact, that I am myself inspired to write; to sort of "set the record straight". I am breaking the family tradition of silence to do so. But, this tradition is, in large part, responsible for the current climate. Which is to say, had we told our secrets to start with there would be much less condemnation, and even shame laid upon our family name now. Most particularly I wish to clear my good cousin's name. Lucius Malfoy is not the man you have been led to believe he is.
To begin with, I know many of you are saying: 'those are just stories, fiction'. Don't believe it. How could anyone make up such a rich and living 'fiction'? No author could. No, Ms Rowling's books are quite true. They document a historic event in the wizarding world (so far as they go). A world hidden in the most obvious place to hide a thing, in plain view. I would remind doubters that Tolkien's works were once believed to be merely fiction, even fantasy; another laughable nonsense. Our world, complete with dragons, vampires, unicorns, and the whole thing, is quite real; as is my family, the great house Malfoy.
Let me state plainly, I am not saying that the author of those books purposefully set out to smear the Malfoy name. She *did* attempt to gain an interview with some representative of the family. She, in fact, made quite a pest of herself, by all accounts. It is simply that we are a private family, or always have been. No one, who knew anything, would give her the time of day. Thus she pieced together the story from sources hostile to my family, on the whole; and we were portrayed in a very, dare I say: malignant, light.
We Malfoys are not, it is true, a popular clan in the wizarding world. We are very wealthy; prone to good looks, thanks to a very remote veela ancestress; and quite magically tallented. Such gifts are likely to arouse the envy, even emnity, of others. Furthermore we staunchly adhere to our traditions, which include arranged marriages. And our family motto: We Serve Only Ourselves, while it has served us well, has led to misunderstandings over the course of time. From these you can imagine the trail of dissapointed lovers and business associates left in our wake. Yet I assert there is no evil intended in any of this. Were we not as we are we would not be as great as we are. We have grown cautious and private knowing how outsiders perceive us, and must appear quite unpleasant to those not included in our family circle.
You are likely under the impression that there are only three Malfoys in the world. The truth of the matter is, we are a large clan, and far flung. We have business interests in many countries, which must be overseen, thus we have family in most every country in the northern hemisphere, and in each country or region there is a chief. But the Head of our family, The Malfoy, is old Cronus Malfoy, my great great grandfather. He keeps a huge, old, and quite eccentric castle in Poitou, the green Venice of France. From there he manages the family investments, both financial and political, with a deft hand despite his advanced age. He is assisted in overseeing The family by his equally elderly sister, Draconia - or 'Grandmere' as she is more usually called. She manages our private lives, arranging marriages, dowries, allowances; mediating disputes; and many other much more personal affairs. The pair, contrary to logic, are well loved, by the majority of us. But I grew up...
Oh, I didn't mention, but now I will, this is to be rather an autobiography. I will show you, as is only honest, my family, and especially my cousin Lucius, through my own experiences; and leave you to draw your own conclusions.
 
 
Medea Morwen Grace Malfoy
14 November 2006 @ 11:06 am
For you to understand, sex between a witch and a wizard is no casual thing. To begin with, the two together, in union, create a magical field that is really beyond description to you who are muggles. I can only say, that if you have a really lovely muggle orgasm, you have felt a fraction of what we experience sexually. The swelling of sensation, and it's explosive rush. The feel of your man's climax as his life force fills your womb. I have experienced both in my multitudinous lifetimes, and I know from this, sex is just incredibly overwhelming to witches and wizards, in heterosexual union. In fact, if muggles had this sort of pleasure... well, they, you, probably would have destroyed yourselves, as we nearly did.

But the energy, the magical field created by our union, is only part of the pleasure. There is also an alchemical sort of reaction between the sexual emissions of the two, so that when a wizard first orgasms, and his seed is poured into his mate (Our sex is wet. Wizards emissions are greater in amount than muggle men's. But there is an indescribable eroticism in the feel of a wizard's fluids running in hot streams down your inner thighs, and around your ankles), it reacts with her vaginal fluids creating heat and a direct, local aphrodesiac effect, so that the wizard is almost immediately engorged again. Wizards usually come to their first orgasm quickly, but with us that is only the begining. Most wizards, and certainly Lucius, can climax a dozen or more times before becomming exhausted, and each climax only increases the pleasure of the next. Indeed, when we are exhausted, we are still terribly aroused and find final relief usually only in oral sex.

As you can imagine, the bonding between pairs is intense, and addictive. But, if the two are considerate and kind to each other, and if they are strong enough emotionally to resist the baser urges, the deepest bonds of love are forged. In such couples infidelity is unheard of.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

One thing so many readers don't understand is just how much wizarding history has been effected by sex. Due to the extreme pleasure we experience in heterosexual intercourse, pair bonding between witches and wizards is ravagingly intense, and it arouses in us all the baser instincts. Murderous jealousy being the most pronounced. There was a time in our history when we almost became extinct, because of this flaw. Wizards and witches killed their rivals, and even their suspected rivals, and sometimes even their own children if it seemed the child came between the pair in some way. Wizards would capture witches and imprison them, so as to never loose them to another. When a lover became too crazed to put up with any more, there was no amicable parting of the ways. One would kill the other, or keep them against their will, being unable to bear the thought that another might share with the former lover what they had once shared. Couples lived in isolation from the company of other witches and wizards, and there were wars between clans, as unmarried wizards raided family groups in order to capture their women. And love, which dies in an absence of freedom, was only a brief episode in our relationships soon replaced by bitter greivance, suspicion, and blatant antagonism.

We would have died out had we not evolved in our understanding, but our ways of coping varied widely. Some took muggle women, and sometimes men, as their mates, because the sexual experience was so much less intense with muggles. It was a huge break with tradition, but it did provide heirs, and a saner sort of bonding, without one needing to give up sex entirely.
There were others however who decided sex was the root of all evil, and shunned the sexual experience altogether, going to great trouble to procreate with the least amount of physical contact possible. These ones married for logical reasons rather than passion, and cultivated respect and distant affection as between a brother and sister. Critics of this group often pointed out that children born of such unions were usually sickly, and lacked their parent's magical talents to greater or lesser degree, too often being squibs.
There were a very few who turned to same sex unions, though this is much rarer in magical circles than it seems to be amongst muggles, and there is strong sentiment against it as being a "dirty, muggle" failing.
The most common way of dealing with it however, was simply to master the baser emotions, a thing easier proposed than accomplished. It helped that laws were passed by groups with power enough to enforce them, and the lawless were forced out of civilized territories into more and more remote areas. The benefits of abiding by the rule of the majority were obvious and attractive.

In large part the old instinctive, sexual possessiveness and jealousy went underground, emerging as general competitiveness; a tendency to engage in viscious gossip, emotional manipulation, and manipulative charm. Now we have the arenas of politics and quiditch in which to battle, but unlike muggles, wizards battle not for the approval of their fathers and fellow men, but to vent their agression, to ritually defeat their sexual rivals, and win the adoration of the opposite sex. Not that these arenas attract only wizards, but the witches who also join in usually do so either to attract a favored wizard's attention.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was because I was sensitive to Lucius's jealous agonies that I kept from him the truth about my multiple past life memories. He sometimes, in the begining, treated me as if I were quite young, but I resisted correcting him as I knew how he would suffer to know just how many men I could recall as sexual partners. Sometimes I felt I had so many secrets he didn't even know me. Still it would have been selfish of me to 'set the record straight' when he would suffer so for it. As his relationship with his wife ate at me(she was fortunately of the "sex is the root of all Evil"-sect, Or I would not have been able to bear it), even though I knew that he loved me madly, so would knowledge of my past lovers eat at him, and I could never cause him such suffering purposefully. In time Lucius forgot about our age difference, as he learned I was quite his equal intellectually, though he couldn't explain why I was so. He was always, and still is a bit fatherly to me, but I had been an intrusion in my own parent's lives, and an unloved child; so his style of love was a balm to my wounds.

Lucius, The Malfoy of EnglandCollapse )
 
 
 
Medea Morwen Grace Malfoy
01 May 2006 @ 09:57 am
He watched her as she stood there in King's cross, gazing away to the east end of the station. She stood straight and unbending, but there were small things, things only a person well acquainted with her would notice, that betrayed her anxiety. Things only he would notice, because no one else could really claim to know her. There was a restless flickering of her eyes as she scanned the crowd for sight of him. There was the slightest trace of a pout about her lips, for she had ever been spoiled by him and done considerably more than pout the past year. But most telling of all was the way she was worrying a loose thread she had found on the sleeve of her traveling cape. She seemed quite oblivious to the fact that her fingers were looping and pulling at it almost continuously. She had done the same sort of thing since childhood, and always seemed to have a loose string handy when she needed one, though normally she was too fussy about her appearance to stand for loose threads.
He had hoped that when he saw her today his feelings would have changed. As he surreptitiously observed her now, he knew it had been a vain hope, doomed from the start. It was obvious in this moment, as emotion swelled in his chest, that his insistence on their past year's separation, his insistence on distancing himself, had come to little more than a year's worth of self abuse. But it had been a cruelty to her too. He could see the mark of suffering on her. She was a little too thin, a little too pale. He could not see her face well, for she was gazing anxiously toward the east end of King's Cross, the direction he had always come from, but he had seen the pictures of her collapse, during last night's concert, in this morning's papers. In them her face had looked stricken, haunted.
He had realized his selfishness then. For the past year he had thought of little else but her, but in a self centered manner. His guilt for trespassing. His duty to her, her family, and most of all his dead sister; Morwen's mother. His unworthiness. His agonies of love. His need. Until recently the concept of her suffering had seemed unreal to him, a spoiled darling's tantrum. He had not hoped she missed him, in the way he missed her, still it seemed she had, ludicrous as that sounded to him.
He knew she should approach her, say something, and he would, soon. Just now however he needed to hang back. It had been a hard year without her, and it struck him now how pointless their separation had been; an exercise in self abuse. Watching her now he knew he loved her as much if not more than he had when he sent her away, "for her own good,' last spring. The pain of the past year swelled up in his chest, and bound his throat tightly. If he went to her now he would loose control. He would fall at her feet and beg her to love him too. He would weep, he who had never shown weakness with her before, and she would despise him. Or maybe she wouldn't, but he feared it just the same.
He swallowed hard a few times; cleared his throat and pulled at his cravat. He remembered the first time he had seen her, it had been in this very station. She had been five, or six. He had known her immediately though she had become separated from her family in the crowd. On seeing her something in his chest he had thought long since dead had stirred. She had been such a tiny adult, showing no sign of fear at being alone in a strange and muggle crowded train station. She had walked right up to him and held out her hand, just as an adult might, to introduce herself. Before she could speak he had lifted her up in his arms, kissed her sweet cheeks, and hugged her snugly. She had gasped and pulled back from him, a look of shock on her face. Thinking she did not recognize him after all he had said, "It is I, your Uncle Lucias."
"I know who you are," she had said, and then thrown her arms around his neck and sobbed. At a loss he had patted her back and rocked her. A minute later one of the twins, her older sisters, had bobbed out of the crowd, run up to the pair, and pinched Morwen sharply.
"You can't be too nice to her," she had sagely advised him, "it only makes her cry. Woa!"
He had aimed a smart blow at her sassy bottom with his walking stick, which she had only just avoided.
"Don't ever let me see you pinch your sister again," he had scolded, and Morwen, who had stopped crying as soon as she felt her sister's pinch, began to weep again at his words.
"It's your collar," the twin had sassed, making sure to stay beyond reach.
Years later Morwen had told him, laughing, as though such trivialities had no lasting effect on her, that she could never recall having been hugged or kissed before that day. All of her life, from that day to a very similar day last spring, she had had no one in her life really, except him. Last spring he had sent her away, and she had had no one.
It was typical of her to never tell him how much that moment had meant to her. It was typical of their friendship that they never trespassed upon each other's emotions. They were close, closer than most people ever are to another, but there was a forbidden area, especially on her part. He had always thought it was her grief about her mother's death, a grief he shared, though as a brother, not a child; but now he knew there was more to it. There seemed to be an entire continent of secrets hidden in her silence, and he was determined to have them out. She would agree, or he would compel her to. He was determined to know, and would not be gain-stayed again.
 
 
Medea Morwen Grace Malfoy
01 May 2006 @ 09:48 am
Dear Uncle,
There are no words to be found that are properly descriptive, that I may convey in short just how painful and difficult my early childhood was. I know, you are saying everyone's childhood has its painful moments, and you think I am just being childishly melodramatic, that it is time I put it aside; but let me clarify myself before you judge, please, because there are some things I have kept secret, even from you, whom I love above all others. I tell you these things so that perhaps you will forgive me when I tell you more. I don't need your forgiveness, but I know stark facts, with no explanation, are hard to fathom at times; and I would like it if you could understand the truth of my life and the things I have done. Without my explanation I fear you could do naught else but judge, and yet to condemn me does us both an injustice.
My mother, as you well know, was murdered upon the same day I was born. She was abducted from our home, while pregnant. She was assaulted and left for dead. It was made to appear a muggle hate crime. I know you and the others believed it to be so. I was too young to tell you any differently then, and later, bringing it all up again seemed needlessly cruel. But now I see a need to air it all. I ask you now: what muggle could do such a thing to a fully trained and able witch? And who benefited the most from the antimuggle sentiment that ensued? No muggle killed my mother. It is not my purpose, in bringing it up now, to rehash all that, or to lay blame. My purpose is to tell you now what my mother did to me; her final act. You will never know me fully, or have reason to believe that what I say about Mother's death is true, until I have confessed all to you, and made you understand. You see Mother wasn't quite dead when they left her, and perhaps they knew that, but she was dying, and soon enough she passed away. Still she had time and life enough left for two further acts. She gave birth to me, and she carried on an ancient matrilinear tradition. My mother gave to me her memories. This act had been going on for generations, mother to daughter for the most part, and thus my mother's memories included the memories of all our mothers before us for more than two thousand years. This is how I know who killed her. I have her memories. And, her mother's.
You may not see the harm in that, though, if you recall Herbert's books, and the travails of Alia, which I read to you, you will be muttering 'abomination' even now. Well, it wasn't quite that bad, though nearly so. I will explain.
Normally when the act, the transfer of memory, is done, it is done upon the death of an old woman. Thus the recipient is also an older, adult woman, with memories of her own and a sense of self to withstand the onslaught of the memory personalities of all these other women. To avoid being possessed by them. Usually the gift was given to the eldest daughter of the family. If she was found lacking, another daughter was gifted. There were even cases when the memories were gifted to nieces, sisters, and daughters-in-law, rather than a daughter, when for some reason the daughter was unsuitable, or not available. It was a treasure not to be squandered, thus the successor was chosen with great care, until my mother, in extremis, gifted the treasure to me. It was a cursed treasure to me as you must now grasp. I was very nearly overwhelmed before I had even begun my life. I teetered upon the edge of insanity for all of those first years, before I met you. I had no one else, for as you know my father was devastated, and my sisters only children.
I can say, because of this, that while I was a virgin in fact, I was never a virgin really. A hundred times, a thousand times, a hundred thousand times? I could not count how many men I had known carnally, and the host included my closest kin. My father, your father. I had memory of you as both brother and son. The stigma of incest has little meaning for me because of these memories. Do you understand? The most difficult thing though was that I had those memories of the sensual and erotic, but I was a little girl, with no hope of a lover for years to come. You, though I could not know you to the extent of my true desire, eased that pain greatly.
Had I, through the memories of these women, known love? I must say here, love is a scarce commodity. In all those memories I saw little love between these women and their mates. There was lust. There was, all too often, the need to hold on to and possess another. Most often though I saw couples together out of simple convenience, much as you and Auntie. But very little love that was mutual existed in my memories. Love. A love that touches upon all of the seven realms, became my beacon, my grail quest for this life. I feel this sort of love for you.
I recall clearly when I first saw you. Not as an infant, on that day when you found me beside my poor mother's body. The first, first time, I saw you I was just not myself, for I was quite overwhelmed, on that occasion, by my mother, who was trying to speak to you through me. I recall that moment, but it is the later reunion I remember most fondly and refer to now. It was Christmas. You remember don't you? I was six, and you had invited us to come home for the holidays. You met us at Kings Cross, and when you saw me, you, thinking I was the simple child I appeared to be, lifted me up and gave me the sweetest hug, and a kiss. I want you to know, I had never been hugged or kissed by anyone, in this life, until that moment. In that moment you, who I had memories of as a son, and as a brother, you who are my uncle, made me feel loved. That is why I fell to weeping, and clung to your neck the way I did. I think you knew as much. Thank you for making me feel loved. You have always made me feel loved. Is it any wonder I love you as I do? Am I really so unnatural?
But I don't want you to think I love you simply because you were and are kind to me. That isn't the whole story. If that were the case you would be right to fear I saw a father in you, such as young witches are prone to being attracted to too often.
You know, I don't think I need to belabor the point, that we have a bond most people would envy. We spent that first visit alone in each other's company, for the most part; as Father was quite taken with Aunty's style, and as the twins got on so well with your son. I think you soon realized that I was far beyond my years. I don't think you were merely being a good uncle. You valued my company, and still do. You do don't you? I realize now we have perhaps left too much unsaid between us, which seems incredible as we have corresponded daily for years now.
I am sorry. I can't go on now. I will tell more later, I promise. Please write me soon. I am on pins and needles.
Love, Morwen.



Dearest,
I agree, we have left too much unsaid. In the beginning perhaps we did so because what we shared was so simple seeming. You being so very young, nothing of the erotic could be conceived of by either of us. We simply loved each other's company, each other's minds really. That is, of course, what I love most of you, even now that you are grown, and our love blossoming into something... more complex. If the consummating of our passion for each other will jeopardize that pure love, I don't want it. That is what I fear; not the base condemnations of others but your condemnation. I could not bear it, Dearest. We must be most cautious least what we have be spoilt. Do you not agree? Think for a moment of the many evenings we have spent in my study enjoying poetry, music, magical theory, and even those simple muggle prattings you are so fond of sharing with me (which I have enjoyed much more than I ever let on). For years we shared that close companionship, that had nothing to do with carnal desire. Nor did it have anything to do with duty to kin, or pity, as I sense you fear. It is and always was myself I see in you. At the risk of seeming narcissistic, I have always loved the self you reflected to me. Our emotions always seem synchronized. It is a rare thing, what we have. Not to be lightly altered.
I too recall our first meeting with fond amazement. You were such a tiny thing, and yet not a bit child-like. You were like a cat, perfectly poised on my lap, and so very self contained. You dressed your self in black velvet, and your pale hair was always combed neatly. It is true that my heart nearly broke to see you. You were so dour and pinched, you never played with the other children then; and when you sobbed at my least attention I did feel certain you received little enough love for want of your mother. I wanted to weep right along with you, but I hid that behind a manly mask.
What I am failing to say clearly is that I certainly have pitied you your lot, and felt pained on your account, wishing I could lift your burdens. But then I love you on so many levels. I desire you. I hurt for your hurts, and wish to protect you, as often as I wish to be babied myself, by your sweet ministrations. I wish to bend you to my will. It is a terrible temptation to me, though I know it would spoil our affection in the end. I love you, and I want to tell the world, because it is such a miracle to me. I see power in you so clearly, you are like a lucent mirror. And I know you and I are one. So few come to know this joy. Let us not hasten to change things.
As to your mother's memories, I find that quite remarkable, and can't help but wonder if it explains some of the things I have noted about the women who must have been, like you, so gifted, and tormented. My grandmother, my mother, my sister and yourself; each so very unalike and yet each... something. I can't quite put my finger on what. Why on earth didn't you tell me before now dearest? I would have liked to help you. You know that. Now that you have confessed will you please tell me more, specifically, about your mother's death. You know how I was driven to avenge her death, and the hate I carried for so long on account of her torment. I can only think of one reason why you would keep the truth from me so long. Still, I want to hear the truth from you.
All my love,
Lucius



Uncle Lucius,
I am glad you agree that we must speak of these things now. I feel it is vital, least we go awry. One thing you are wrong about though (and you know how I hate to tell you you are wrong about anything) is that I was too young to have erotic feelings for you in my youth. Those were not my first emotions. First I loved you. But I certainly felt desire soon enough. I hid this for shame of being so unnatural, as the personality ghosts of my fore-mothers were so fond of telling me I was. I hid it least you find me disgusting and unnatural as well, and reject me. I want you to know now though, that I have desired you most of my life, and my desire for you has of late become almost intolerable. I know you say you wish to proceed with caution, yet I fear the truth is you simply do not feel as I feel. You say you desire me, but I wonder at your self control, for I no longer have any. Have I given away my strength to you? I used to fancy myself a strong person.
I want you to know I will never hold our union against you. What I will hold against you is a deep grudge, if you should use this weakness of mine for you against me, as I well know you are capable of doing.
I am sorry, I know that sounds so harsh. What I mean is that, I know the enjoyment of torturing another with desire. Please don't toy with me that way. Oh, I am too distraught. Don't listen to me. I don't know what I am saying anymore.
I didn't tell you about the Gift sooner because I knew it would stir old hatreds in your soul, and that such would be useless. The deed cannot be undone, and I am certain my poor mother's murder will be avenged by the simple stupidity of the murderer. Even now I watch him making one stupid blunder after another, and celebrate his impending demise. That you should suffer with him is grossly unfair, but we both know the danger if you were to break your oaths to this monster. It is a matter of choosing between evils I fear.
Someone has come. I must go now. Let's meet soon. I will come whenever you think the time is right.

Love, Morwen.


Dearest,
I have given this all my thought since your last letter. I am sorry to have delayed responding, but there it is. Meet me at King's Cross in a week's time, usual time and place. That we may discuss our situation further. Then you will tell me what this matter is that you feel you need my forgiveness over.
All my love,
Lucius
 
 
Medea Morwen Grace Malfoy
01 May 2006 @ 09:05 am
Nox  
". . . one day soon, you are going to meet the same sticky end." - Uncle Lucius.