Categories > Books > Harry Potter > Let's Try That Again, Shall We?
The Harry Potter universe is the creation of J.K. Rowling. This is fanfiction. The standard disclaimers apply.
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Into the Glade, Part 3
She declined to describe the intervening millennium.
They lay there together, Charlie looking up at the sky, somewhat overwhelmed. He was embarrassed to have been turned on by every single thing that she had found arousing in her memories. He wasn't attracted to young kids, or boys. He wondered why, given that she claimed to be so conscientious, she had simply jumped him in the cave. To be fair, he was not exactly complaining.
It just seemed, after viewing all her memories, and all the improbable things people had done around her, that her idea of consent extended little further than making sure everyone came as many times as possible. There had been some pairings she had brought about, back in Greece, that surely must have caused problems later, when those involved were no longer near her—age, gender, kinship—humans had a lot of sensibilities which she had little interest in.
Apparently she had been passively watching his thoughts. She pointed out that she had been much more careful here in Scotland with the few people she had interacted with, largely because Helga and Salazar had asked her to be. But she was a deity to her farmers and villagers back home, and they either believed morality came from the gods in the first place, that the rules were different with her, or perhaps were just confused about their own ideas of morality but fiercely loyal to her.
Charlie had studied mythology in primary school, including the Greek and Roman versions of pantheism. Wizards were pretty comfortable with the idea of insanely powerful anthropomorphic entities, and the classic gods of antiquity with their very human doings were appealing to them. There was a reason his head of house was named "Minerva" when you would rarely find that name among muggles. But they were, well, storybook characters. And for humans, the moral of nearly all of the stories was "stay away from gods unless you want to have something unspeakably horrible happen to you."
The nymph did not like where this train of thought was going, and interrupted him. "Charlie!" She ran her finger along his cheek, turning him to face her again, looking worried. She seemed even more beautiful the longer he looked at her, and the expression on her face was heartbreaking. She did not want to spend another thousand years alone. She couldn't bear it.
It was clear she could simply force him to stay. She could probably even put some sort of geas on him to keep coming back, or to bring anyone with him that she wanted. She seemed to come to a decision, and let him know she would definitely be keeping him around for at least another day, but she would try to make sure he enjoyed it.
"I have class Monday morning. It's bad enough to be out of my bunk, but I've done that before, going out at night. If I'm not in class it will be obvious I'm missing. I would prefer not to get in trouble. Okay?"
She would think about it. For now, she led him by the hand back into the cave, and they lay down together on his bedding. She pushed him onto his back, then slid down him and breathed hot air onto his cock while running her fingers along it. He was half hard already; it would not be long before he was fully erect again. He was really tired, though, both from having gotten up so early and sleeping so little, and from everything the nymph had put him through.
"Sleep," she said, presumably pulling bits of Modern English from his mind. Then she put the head of his cock in her mouth and started doing something wonderful with her tongue. He was unable to stay awake, though, and drifted off, still hardening in her mouth.
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Charlie dreamt.
He was back at the burrow, during the Christmas Quidditch game, except that Oliver was there too. They were in front of their goal hoop, watching Harry and Ginny high above them.
"We'll need to train him now—there's not much time left before next year," he was telling Oliver.
"He's good. He'll be ready by the first game. Let's go talk to him."
They flew up to Harry. "We need to plan for next year," said Oliver. "Come on, let's go!"
They flew out from the back yard—Charlie, Oliver, Harry, and Ginny. They were flying out across the field behind the Burrow, which was now a meadow in the height of summer, full of red and gold flowers. They were skimming it, dragging their feet, when a flash of gold flew up in front of them.
"It's a snidget, Harry, get it!"
Then another one flushed in front of them, and another, and soon all the gold flowers became snidgets and there was a large flock of them swirling away. They and the snidgets were weaving between trees, some of them landing, some taking off, but still as a flock leading them on. Then suddenly the flock veered right and passed between two enormous holly trees. Charlie knew they were leading them into the Glade, and called after the other three, but they wouldn't listen. When he tried to overtake them, his broom didn't respond.
Through the trees they came out in front of Hogwarts instead of the Glade, except the school was dwarfed by an apple tree, pink with blossoms, growing from the castle's center. It was the Yggdrasil of apple trees, he thought, as they pursued the flock of snidgets, now in the thousands, into its branches.
They were flying over a limb as wide as a Hogwarts hall, as the birds spread out evenly through the tree, hovered in place, then clung upside down and became little golden apples.
He wondered if the squirrel was there, and it was, slightly above them, looking down. It was much larger and elongated, like a python-sized serpent, woven through the branches like dragons from old Celtic manuscripts, and its red fur was as shiny as scales. Its head and the first ten feet of its body had dropped down to look at them.
"Try an apple," it said. Its voice was a little creaky, a little forced sounding, in the way of awkward, slowed-down things in dreams.
"You shouldn't take food from talking animals in trees, especially apples from serpents," Charlie replied.
"I'm not a serpent," countered the squirrel. "The nymph eats these apples. She doesn't eat the others."
"What others?"
"The fruit of the tree of knowledge of good and evil. She won't eat them, because she doesn't want to leave the Glade."
"What are these?"
"This is the tree of life. If you eat from it you will become like her, like gods." It elongated itself further, simply growing forward to another branch, which it pulled down with it until it and the branch were a few feet in front of him. Its eyes were big and dark, looking at him. "Try an apple."
Charlie walked up to the branch, which had several of the round gold fruits hanging from it. They were still snidget-like in size and shape. Their scaly stems seemed to attach to the twigs with claws, and feathery leaves came from the top, as if the wings had migrated down to its feet when it landed. There was a lump at the bottom where the head would be. The entire fruit was no bigger than a regulation snitch—about the size of an apricot.
Charlie reached out to touch one. It was smooth like metal, and extremely heavy as well, like metal, although not as dense as gold.
"Take it. Eat it. You must eat it or you will never escape her."
He reached out and pulled on one. The twig snapped in half with a noise he didn't like, leaving the clawed end still on the branch.
He looked closely at it. The bump, its beakless head, still had eyes, open and looking at him. They blinked.
"Eat it."
Charlie screwed up his courage, and decided to get rid of the head first, like a chocolate Easter rabbit. He bit into it. Golden-yellow juice splattered onto his face. It smelled and tasted like apple, but was metallic gold in color throughout, with the consistency of a firm plum. It did not crunch. Juices ran down his chin. He kept eating. It was sweet—the best apple he had ever tasted—and was gone in four bites. There was no pit, no seeds. He reached for another, snapped it off, and ate it, too.
The three others were there, too, all standing on the huge limb, plucking and eating snidget-apples.
"Now you are like gods. Climb on my back."
The squirrel slid, or perhaps grew, until about twenty feet of it was standing lengthwise on the limb with them. It had many feet now, proportionate in size to its two-foot wide body. It reminded Charlie of Sleipnir. They all lay down on it, wrapping their arms and legs around its trunk. Charlie did the same behind them.
Its fur was very dense and smooth, more like an otter's than a squirrel's. It rose up, and he felt it grasp his wrists and ankles in its paws, drawing him around itself as it shot forward and up, winding through the branches. He saw glimpses of Hogwarts below, towers and courtyards flashing by without context. They were moving at broom-speed now, and had gone a third of the way around the tree, and most of the way up. There was a huge, brown, twiggy, leafy nest above them. They shot up past it, emerging from the tree into the sun. There was blue sky above them, and a sea of pink sloping off below.
Then down, down into the nest, which was enormous, roughly bowl-shaped, and open to the sky. It reminded him of an eagles nest, or perhaps a legendary roc. And there were red things in there, too—other squirrels, the children of the one they rode. They were dropped into the nest, landing on twigs. The giant serpent-squirrel poured itself out over the nest-edge and vanished.
They looked up at its children, standing over them. These had human faces and human body shapes—male and female—though red with fur, and walked mostly upright. They had tufted ears that stood straight up from their heads, long tails, and claws on their fingers and toes. There were at least five or six of them.
Charlie saw that his clothes were lying on the side of the nest, and he, Oliver, Harry, and Ginny were naked. One of the male squirrels looked at him and said "now you are like gods." It put a paw on his shoulder, and one of its sisters came to his other side. Together they pulled him to his feet.
The girl slid in front of him, looking into his eyes, clutching his arms in her paws. She had essentially human features, perhaps with a slightly wider, flatter nose, thinner lips, larger eyes. Her irises were wide and nearly black, making eye contact both easy and uncomfortable. She had no hair where a squirrel would not, but held her tail up and behind her head, which his mind occasionally interpreted like human hair.
She pulled him into herself, pressing her breasts against him, then leaned forward and sniffed him—his hair and neck, the corners of his mouth, then his armpit. Her ears twitched back and forth. Her claws felt like she was clinging to him, as if he were a tree. His mind fought to reconcile it all with her human face. She pushed her tail forward until he could see nothing but her face; this did not help, nor was it intended to.
She stepped backwards, pulling him with her, tail in his face, until they reached the edge of the nest. The rim rose several feet above their heads. Oliver was leaning against it, with each of his arms around one of the female squirrel-people. Charlie was dragged in their direction, and soon realized they were simply pinning Oliver in place. Not that Oliver was resisting. They were running their claws down his chest and sniffing his head. He was standing very still, precisely like Professor McGonagall had when the squirrel had gone down her shirt into her cleavage. Except in this case the squirrels were the ones with the cleavage, and they had removed his clothes instead of trying to get in them.
Suddenly she pushed him to his knees in front of Oliver, and knelt down with him, grabbing his hair in her claws, staring at him wild-eyed.
"No clothes are left to shed, the world lies far beneath you.
The blue, majestic sky shall be your roof, your canopy of air!
And you have bit the golden fruit and drunk its juice,
Until its fire was within you. You are infinite!
How like angels are you now, like gods! Like gods!
You are the beauty of the world, the paragon of animals,
Yet you look odd to us, delight us not,
Nor does your sister. If you smile, though,
Do as we ask, all will be well, and mirth shall find us all
Together here until the end of days."
And then she turned his head until his mouth was inches from Oliver's cock, and pushed until his lips touched its head. He felt a second set of hands—long, clawed fingers—pull his wrists behind his back. Oliver was soft. Charlie knew he was supposed to change that.
He parted his lips, lifted it up and into his mouth with his tongue, feeling its shape and soft skin until all four inches of it lay along his tongue. He pulled his lips over his teeth, bit down a little, pressed up with his tongue, luxuriating at the feel of it. He felt it twitch. He pushed his tongue forward and back, trying to get at the underside of the head, but the girl was pulling him forward by his hair to keep him from moving back. He moved his tongue from side to side, trying to wrap it around.
Pressed up against the roof of his mouth, Charlie felt Oliver hardening. It was amazing in its intimacy, how much he was aware of. It was growing longer, too, already past his uvula, almost touching the back of his throat. He swallowed, and it twitched, and kept getting harder.
Charlie's own cock was rock-hard at this point—this was the most erotic thing he could remember having done. He loved it. The squirrel girl had her head forward, pushing her nose in between them to sniff at the corners of his mouth. It was distracting, and he wished she would stop. He felt breath, too, near his ear on the other side, where the squirrel holding his hands was peering around to watch.
He was worried about his gag reflex, but it didn't seem to exist. He just felt pleasure, and swallowed again, and found the cock pushing downwards, too, having run out of room. His jaw was open wide—it felt like far more than an inch between his front teeth. He worried about choking, or suffocating, but that didn't seem to be a problem here either. His mouth and throat were just completely full.
It was at this point the girl pulled his head back a few inches—until the head of Oliver's cock was completely out of his throat, and he could feel it on his tongue again. And then she pushed him back, working him into a rhythm. He opened his eyes and saw a squirrel on either side of him, looking fascinated.
Oliver up to this point had not moved a muscle, presumably terrified of upsetting Charlie. The squirrel holding his hair let go with one hand, and reached around behind Oliver to push him forward into Charlie's mouth. She held Charlie in place, working Oliver into a rhythm, letting him pull out until only an inch or two remained in Charlie's mouth, then slamming him back in. It was initially uncomfortable when it hit the back of this throat, but it rapidly became so arousing he didn't mind.
He felt a paw go around his own cock, and start moving it back and forth. The squirrel wasn't very good at it, but Charlie was focused on the experience of Oliver pumping into his mouth, and between that and the squirrel he was very turned on. Soon, though, he wanted more, and the squirrel's hand was not doing it for him.
He felt multiple sets of paws lifting him up, spreading his legs, sliding someone between them. Lips touched the head of his cock and a small hand wrapped fingers around it. He pulled back from Oliver and looked down into Ginny's eyes as she smiled up at him and started moving. It was too much. He woke up.
The sensation didn't stop, though, as the nymph continued where Ginny had left off in the dream. The light was dim, just bright enough to see by.
"Uhhhh . . . did you do something to my dreams?"
He felt her in his mind, making sure she understood. Without taking him out of her mouth, she shook her head 'no'.
"Good, I think. That was the weirdest dream I have ever had." She looked at his memory of it, doing so in enough detail to force him through parts of it again. She paused in places, puzzled, but Charlie wasn't of much help. The squirrel-creature's long reference to Hamlet—based on something Charlie had memorized in primary school—was the most complicated bit, but by no means the strangest. He wasn't looking forward to seeing Ginny or Oliver anytime soon, either, and he very much hoped he could resist the urge to eat the next snitch he caught.
The nymph, still sucking on him, waved him back to sleep.
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He woke up the next morning outdoors, with the sky still pink and orange from sunrise, hours before direct light would reach them here. He was propped up on a rock, with the nymph straddling him, smiling. She was using one hand to cup a pile of fruit between her breasts, and with the other she was offering him an apricot. He reached for it, but she smiled more and shook her head, then held the fruit to his lips. It didn't grow eyes and blink at him, so he bit it.
It took him another full minute to realize he was hard and inside her. She had been doing something to him nearly continuously since they had met, and his mind had adapted by learning to pay attention to everything else she was doing. She was now offering him raspberries, making him take them from her own lips. Finally she reached behind him and came back with a banana. She peeled the entire thing, then held it to his lips with both hands as she started sliding up and down on his erection. She was incredibly wet; maybe nymphs always were? (Yes, she explained, apparently listening in.)
The banana reminded him of his dream, and try as he might, he couldn't help but be hyper-aware of the sensation of putting something long and round into his mouth. She was watching him intently, getting off on the sight and his response. At last the banana was done, and she offered her now sticky fingers to him. He knew what she wanted and didn't really want to give it to her, but she sped up, and soon it didn't bother him anymore.
One by one he took her fingers into his mouth, cleaning the banana and fruit juice off them. When he was finished, she put three fingers back in his mouth and started working them in and out as she started trying to make him come in earnest. It did not take long.
After she had finished shuddering against him, she kissed him, and said "thank you" out loud. The she reached to her other side, and Charlie realized that what he had taken for rocks in his peripheral vision was in fact a pile of mussels. They were on the large side, each around six inches long. One by one the nymph set them on a patch of wet sand, cooked them rapidly with magic until their shells opened, then lifted them, still hot, between them. She pulled the meat out with her fingers and fed it to him. Charlie normally didn't like shellfish, but he prided himself on his willingness to eat strange animals, and they were in fact very good.
The two of them spent the day wandering throughout the territory accessible to the nymph. They walked up to to top of the hill and looked back at Hogwarts, towers rising above the trees, distorted through the shimmering barrier. The last bit of the Glade—comprising the two terraces at the end of the canyon above the cave—was even more desert like, and full of cacti, succulents, and other plants Charlie did not recognize. The nymph knew their names, of course, often in several different languages none of which Charlie spoke.
She had been cut off from the world before the Norman invasion, before two fifths of English was derived from French. The limited English she had learned from the founders and their families was very different from Charlie's, and her ability to read and write it was limited to medieval Insular script. Most books he could bring her would be hard to impossible for her to read efficiently. Theoretically she could muddle through modern Greek, if he could find things written in it. There was no perfect solution, of course—he was simply not going to find an ESL textbook printed in Linear B. Perhaps a translation spell?
The day eventually ended. He felt a lot less awkward around her, although he still thought her magic was far more manipulative than she did. She even allowed him to get some sleep, this time blessedly free of anthropomorphic squirrels, and woke him up before dawn in time to trudge back to the castle for class. She wanted very badly for him to return, and to bring friends, and he said he would try to do the first. He was pretty sure what would end up happening if he brought, say, Oliver along with him to meet her.
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He returned to the castle while everyone else was still asleep. He found nothing obviously amiss nor any professors lurking around to catch him, so he got some clean clothes and headed to the shower. The weekend seemed unreal already.
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Author's note:
It might be a bit before the next update. This is probably just as well, after the past few chapters! And no, I probably won't be explaining anything confusing in reviews, because the risk of spoilers is too high. The past three chapters were edited very carefully, at least compared to the rest of the story, so anything confusing is most likely precisely the way I want it. Try to work it out on your own! :)
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Into the Glade, Part 3
She declined to describe the intervening millennium.
They lay there together, Charlie looking up at the sky, somewhat overwhelmed. He was embarrassed to have been turned on by every single thing that she had found arousing in her memories. He wasn't attracted to young kids, or boys. He wondered why, given that she claimed to be so conscientious, she had simply jumped him in the cave. To be fair, he was not exactly complaining.
It just seemed, after viewing all her memories, and all the improbable things people had done around her, that her idea of consent extended little further than making sure everyone came as many times as possible. There had been some pairings she had brought about, back in Greece, that surely must have caused problems later, when those involved were no longer near her—age, gender, kinship—humans had a lot of sensibilities which she had little interest in.
Apparently she had been passively watching his thoughts. She pointed out that she had been much more careful here in Scotland with the few people she had interacted with, largely because Helga and Salazar had asked her to be. But she was a deity to her farmers and villagers back home, and they either believed morality came from the gods in the first place, that the rules were different with her, or perhaps were just confused about their own ideas of morality but fiercely loyal to her.
Charlie had studied mythology in primary school, including the Greek and Roman versions of pantheism. Wizards were pretty comfortable with the idea of insanely powerful anthropomorphic entities, and the classic gods of antiquity with their very human doings were appealing to them. There was a reason his head of house was named "Minerva" when you would rarely find that name among muggles. But they were, well, storybook characters. And for humans, the moral of nearly all of the stories was "stay away from gods unless you want to have something unspeakably horrible happen to you."
The nymph did not like where this train of thought was going, and interrupted him. "Charlie!" She ran her finger along his cheek, turning him to face her again, looking worried. She seemed even more beautiful the longer he looked at her, and the expression on her face was heartbreaking. She did not want to spend another thousand years alone. She couldn't bear it.
It was clear she could simply force him to stay. She could probably even put some sort of geas on him to keep coming back, or to bring anyone with him that she wanted. She seemed to come to a decision, and let him know she would definitely be keeping him around for at least another day, but she would try to make sure he enjoyed it.
"I have class Monday morning. It's bad enough to be out of my bunk, but I've done that before, going out at night. If I'm not in class it will be obvious I'm missing. I would prefer not to get in trouble. Okay?"
She would think about it. For now, she led him by the hand back into the cave, and they lay down together on his bedding. She pushed him onto his back, then slid down him and breathed hot air onto his cock while running her fingers along it. He was half hard already; it would not be long before he was fully erect again. He was really tired, though, both from having gotten up so early and sleeping so little, and from everything the nymph had put him through.
"Sleep," she said, presumably pulling bits of Modern English from his mind. Then she put the head of his cock in her mouth and started doing something wonderful with her tongue. He was unable to stay awake, though, and drifted off, still hardening in her mouth.
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Charlie dreamt.
He was back at the burrow, during the Christmas Quidditch game, except that Oliver was there too. They were in front of their goal hoop, watching Harry and Ginny high above them.
"We'll need to train him now—there's not much time left before next year," he was telling Oliver.
"He's good. He'll be ready by the first game. Let's go talk to him."
They flew up to Harry. "We need to plan for next year," said Oliver. "Come on, let's go!"
They flew out from the back yard—Charlie, Oliver, Harry, and Ginny. They were flying out across the field behind the Burrow, which was now a meadow in the height of summer, full of red and gold flowers. They were skimming it, dragging their feet, when a flash of gold flew up in front of them.
"It's a snidget, Harry, get it!"
Then another one flushed in front of them, and another, and soon all the gold flowers became snidgets and there was a large flock of them swirling away. They and the snidgets were weaving between trees, some of them landing, some taking off, but still as a flock leading them on. Then suddenly the flock veered right and passed between two enormous holly trees. Charlie knew they were leading them into the Glade, and called after the other three, but they wouldn't listen. When he tried to overtake them, his broom didn't respond.
Through the trees they came out in front of Hogwarts instead of the Glade, except the school was dwarfed by an apple tree, pink with blossoms, growing from the castle's center. It was the Yggdrasil of apple trees, he thought, as they pursued the flock of snidgets, now in the thousands, into its branches.
They were flying over a limb as wide as a Hogwarts hall, as the birds spread out evenly through the tree, hovered in place, then clung upside down and became little golden apples.
He wondered if the squirrel was there, and it was, slightly above them, looking down. It was much larger and elongated, like a python-sized serpent, woven through the branches like dragons from old Celtic manuscripts, and its red fur was as shiny as scales. Its head and the first ten feet of its body had dropped down to look at them.
"Try an apple," it said. Its voice was a little creaky, a little forced sounding, in the way of awkward, slowed-down things in dreams.
"You shouldn't take food from talking animals in trees, especially apples from serpents," Charlie replied.
"I'm not a serpent," countered the squirrel. "The nymph eats these apples. She doesn't eat the others."
"What others?"
"The fruit of the tree of knowledge of good and evil. She won't eat them, because she doesn't want to leave the Glade."
"What are these?"
"This is the tree of life. If you eat from it you will become like her, like gods." It elongated itself further, simply growing forward to another branch, which it pulled down with it until it and the branch were a few feet in front of him. Its eyes were big and dark, looking at him. "Try an apple."
Charlie walked up to the branch, which had several of the round gold fruits hanging from it. They were still snidget-like in size and shape. Their scaly stems seemed to attach to the twigs with claws, and feathery leaves came from the top, as if the wings had migrated down to its feet when it landed. There was a lump at the bottom where the head would be. The entire fruit was no bigger than a regulation snitch—about the size of an apricot.
Charlie reached out to touch one. It was smooth like metal, and extremely heavy as well, like metal, although not as dense as gold.
"Take it. Eat it. You must eat it or you will never escape her."
He reached out and pulled on one. The twig snapped in half with a noise he didn't like, leaving the clawed end still on the branch.
He looked closely at it. The bump, its beakless head, still had eyes, open and looking at him. They blinked.
"Eat it."
Charlie screwed up his courage, and decided to get rid of the head first, like a chocolate Easter rabbit. He bit into it. Golden-yellow juice splattered onto his face. It smelled and tasted like apple, but was metallic gold in color throughout, with the consistency of a firm plum. It did not crunch. Juices ran down his chin. He kept eating. It was sweet—the best apple he had ever tasted—and was gone in four bites. There was no pit, no seeds. He reached for another, snapped it off, and ate it, too.
The three others were there, too, all standing on the huge limb, plucking and eating snidget-apples.
"Now you are like gods. Climb on my back."
The squirrel slid, or perhaps grew, until about twenty feet of it was standing lengthwise on the limb with them. It had many feet now, proportionate in size to its two-foot wide body. It reminded Charlie of Sleipnir. They all lay down on it, wrapping their arms and legs around its trunk. Charlie did the same behind them.
Its fur was very dense and smooth, more like an otter's than a squirrel's. It rose up, and he felt it grasp his wrists and ankles in its paws, drawing him around itself as it shot forward and up, winding through the branches. He saw glimpses of Hogwarts below, towers and courtyards flashing by without context. They were moving at broom-speed now, and had gone a third of the way around the tree, and most of the way up. There was a huge, brown, twiggy, leafy nest above them. They shot up past it, emerging from the tree into the sun. There was blue sky above them, and a sea of pink sloping off below.
Then down, down into the nest, which was enormous, roughly bowl-shaped, and open to the sky. It reminded him of an eagles nest, or perhaps a legendary roc. And there were red things in there, too—other squirrels, the children of the one they rode. They were dropped into the nest, landing on twigs. The giant serpent-squirrel poured itself out over the nest-edge and vanished.
They looked up at its children, standing over them. These had human faces and human body shapes—male and female—though red with fur, and walked mostly upright. They had tufted ears that stood straight up from their heads, long tails, and claws on their fingers and toes. There were at least five or six of them.
Charlie saw that his clothes were lying on the side of the nest, and he, Oliver, Harry, and Ginny were naked. One of the male squirrels looked at him and said "now you are like gods." It put a paw on his shoulder, and one of its sisters came to his other side. Together they pulled him to his feet.
The girl slid in front of him, looking into his eyes, clutching his arms in her paws. She had essentially human features, perhaps with a slightly wider, flatter nose, thinner lips, larger eyes. Her irises were wide and nearly black, making eye contact both easy and uncomfortable. She had no hair where a squirrel would not, but held her tail up and behind her head, which his mind occasionally interpreted like human hair.
She pulled him into herself, pressing her breasts against him, then leaned forward and sniffed him—his hair and neck, the corners of his mouth, then his armpit. Her ears twitched back and forth. Her claws felt like she was clinging to him, as if he were a tree. His mind fought to reconcile it all with her human face. She pushed her tail forward until he could see nothing but her face; this did not help, nor was it intended to.
She stepped backwards, pulling him with her, tail in his face, until they reached the edge of the nest. The rim rose several feet above their heads. Oliver was leaning against it, with each of his arms around one of the female squirrel-people. Charlie was dragged in their direction, and soon realized they were simply pinning Oliver in place. Not that Oliver was resisting. They were running their claws down his chest and sniffing his head. He was standing very still, precisely like Professor McGonagall had when the squirrel had gone down her shirt into her cleavage. Except in this case the squirrels were the ones with the cleavage, and they had removed his clothes instead of trying to get in them.
Suddenly she pushed him to his knees in front of Oliver, and knelt down with him, grabbing his hair in her claws, staring at him wild-eyed.
"No clothes are left to shed, the world lies far beneath you.
The blue, majestic sky shall be your roof, your canopy of air!
And you have bit the golden fruit and drunk its juice,
Until its fire was within you. You are infinite!
How like angels are you now, like gods! Like gods!
You are the beauty of the world, the paragon of animals,
Yet you look odd to us, delight us not,
Nor does your sister. If you smile, though,
Do as we ask, all will be well, and mirth shall find us all
Together here until the end of days."
And then she turned his head until his mouth was inches from Oliver's cock, and pushed until his lips touched its head. He felt a second set of hands—long, clawed fingers—pull his wrists behind his back. Oliver was soft. Charlie knew he was supposed to change that.
He parted his lips, lifted it up and into his mouth with his tongue, feeling its shape and soft skin until all four inches of it lay along his tongue. He pulled his lips over his teeth, bit down a little, pressed up with his tongue, luxuriating at the feel of it. He felt it twitch. He pushed his tongue forward and back, trying to get at the underside of the head, but the girl was pulling him forward by his hair to keep him from moving back. He moved his tongue from side to side, trying to wrap it around.
Pressed up against the roof of his mouth, Charlie felt Oliver hardening. It was amazing in its intimacy, how much he was aware of. It was growing longer, too, already past his uvula, almost touching the back of his throat. He swallowed, and it twitched, and kept getting harder.
Charlie's own cock was rock-hard at this point—this was the most erotic thing he could remember having done. He loved it. The squirrel girl had her head forward, pushing her nose in between them to sniff at the corners of his mouth. It was distracting, and he wished she would stop. He felt breath, too, near his ear on the other side, where the squirrel holding his hands was peering around to watch.
He was worried about his gag reflex, but it didn't seem to exist. He just felt pleasure, and swallowed again, and found the cock pushing downwards, too, having run out of room. His jaw was open wide—it felt like far more than an inch between his front teeth. He worried about choking, or suffocating, but that didn't seem to be a problem here either. His mouth and throat were just completely full.
It was at this point the girl pulled his head back a few inches—until the head of Oliver's cock was completely out of his throat, and he could feel it on his tongue again. And then she pushed him back, working him into a rhythm. He opened his eyes and saw a squirrel on either side of him, looking fascinated.
Oliver up to this point had not moved a muscle, presumably terrified of upsetting Charlie. The squirrel holding his hair let go with one hand, and reached around behind Oliver to push him forward into Charlie's mouth. She held Charlie in place, working Oliver into a rhythm, letting him pull out until only an inch or two remained in Charlie's mouth, then slamming him back in. It was initially uncomfortable when it hit the back of this throat, but it rapidly became so arousing he didn't mind.
He felt a paw go around his own cock, and start moving it back and forth. The squirrel wasn't very good at it, but Charlie was focused on the experience of Oliver pumping into his mouth, and between that and the squirrel he was very turned on. Soon, though, he wanted more, and the squirrel's hand was not doing it for him.
He felt multiple sets of paws lifting him up, spreading his legs, sliding someone between them. Lips touched the head of his cock and a small hand wrapped fingers around it. He pulled back from Oliver and looked down into Ginny's eyes as she smiled up at him and started moving. It was too much. He woke up.
The sensation didn't stop, though, as the nymph continued where Ginny had left off in the dream. The light was dim, just bright enough to see by.
"Uhhhh . . . did you do something to my dreams?"
He felt her in his mind, making sure she understood. Without taking him out of her mouth, she shook her head 'no'.
"Good, I think. That was the weirdest dream I have ever had." She looked at his memory of it, doing so in enough detail to force him through parts of it again. She paused in places, puzzled, but Charlie wasn't of much help. The squirrel-creature's long reference to Hamlet—based on something Charlie had memorized in primary school—was the most complicated bit, but by no means the strangest. He wasn't looking forward to seeing Ginny or Oliver anytime soon, either, and he very much hoped he could resist the urge to eat the next snitch he caught.
The nymph, still sucking on him, waved him back to sleep.
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He woke up the next morning outdoors, with the sky still pink and orange from sunrise, hours before direct light would reach them here. He was propped up on a rock, with the nymph straddling him, smiling. She was using one hand to cup a pile of fruit between her breasts, and with the other she was offering him an apricot. He reached for it, but she smiled more and shook her head, then held the fruit to his lips. It didn't grow eyes and blink at him, so he bit it.
It took him another full minute to realize he was hard and inside her. She had been doing something to him nearly continuously since they had met, and his mind had adapted by learning to pay attention to everything else she was doing. She was now offering him raspberries, making him take them from her own lips. Finally she reached behind him and came back with a banana. She peeled the entire thing, then held it to his lips with both hands as she started sliding up and down on his erection. She was incredibly wet; maybe nymphs always were? (Yes, she explained, apparently listening in.)
The banana reminded him of his dream, and try as he might, he couldn't help but be hyper-aware of the sensation of putting something long and round into his mouth. She was watching him intently, getting off on the sight and his response. At last the banana was done, and she offered her now sticky fingers to him. He knew what she wanted and didn't really want to give it to her, but she sped up, and soon it didn't bother him anymore.
One by one he took her fingers into his mouth, cleaning the banana and fruit juice off them. When he was finished, she put three fingers back in his mouth and started working them in and out as she started trying to make him come in earnest. It did not take long.
After she had finished shuddering against him, she kissed him, and said "thank you" out loud. The she reached to her other side, and Charlie realized that what he had taken for rocks in his peripheral vision was in fact a pile of mussels. They were on the large side, each around six inches long. One by one the nymph set them on a patch of wet sand, cooked them rapidly with magic until their shells opened, then lifted them, still hot, between them. She pulled the meat out with her fingers and fed it to him. Charlie normally didn't like shellfish, but he prided himself on his willingness to eat strange animals, and they were in fact very good.
The two of them spent the day wandering throughout the territory accessible to the nymph. They walked up to to top of the hill and looked back at Hogwarts, towers rising above the trees, distorted through the shimmering barrier. The last bit of the Glade—comprising the two terraces at the end of the canyon above the cave—was even more desert like, and full of cacti, succulents, and other plants Charlie did not recognize. The nymph knew their names, of course, often in several different languages none of which Charlie spoke.
She had been cut off from the world before the Norman invasion, before two fifths of English was derived from French. The limited English she had learned from the founders and their families was very different from Charlie's, and her ability to read and write it was limited to medieval Insular script. Most books he could bring her would be hard to impossible for her to read efficiently. Theoretically she could muddle through modern Greek, if he could find things written in it. There was no perfect solution, of course—he was simply not going to find an ESL textbook printed in Linear B. Perhaps a translation spell?
The day eventually ended. He felt a lot less awkward around her, although he still thought her magic was far more manipulative than she did. She even allowed him to get some sleep, this time blessedly free of anthropomorphic squirrels, and woke him up before dawn in time to trudge back to the castle for class. She wanted very badly for him to return, and to bring friends, and he said he would try to do the first. He was pretty sure what would end up happening if he brought, say, Oliver along with him to meet her.
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He returned to the castle while everyone else was still asleep. He found nothing obviously amiss nor any professors lurking around to catch him, so he got some clean clothes and headed to the shower. The weekend seemed unreal already.
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Author's note:
It might be a bit before the next update. This is probably just as well, after the past few chapters! And no, I probably won't be explaining anything confusing in reviews, because the risk of spoilers is too high. The past three chapters were edited very carefully, at least compared to the rest of the story, so anything confusing is most likely precisely the way I want it. Try to work it out on your own! :)
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