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“Father, bring help! Rivers, if you have divinity,
destroy my shape by which I’ve pleased too much, by changing it!”
Having barely finished the prayer, a heavy numbness seizes her limbs,
her soft breasts are girded by thin bark,
her hair grows into foliage, her arms into branches,
her foot, just now so swift, clings by sluggish roots,
her face has the top of a tree: a single splendor remains in her.
- Ovid’s Metamorphoses
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A transformation stirs, the flow of magic kindling a desire to live. A tiny pulse of life begins at the tip of the roots, pushing upward to deliver a rustled shiver amongst the leaves. A being stretching, a soul reigniting, the return of a goddess. A trickle of magic soared ahead–faint, gentle, powerful–spreading across the moonlit field, through the marshy glen, up a crooked wall, and into an open window.
The possibility of a new life, balanced between a woman and her nymph.
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A whisper awakened Ginny from a suspended dream, one filled with illuminated flowers and swaying trees. A figure had eluded her as she attempted to follow, billowy fabric clapping against the wind.
It was a hot August evening spent in her childhood room. Her recent birthday celebration was still thrumming throughout her entire body. A woman now, she was twenty-one years old and uncertain of her path forward.
With the humidity of the night, she had chosen to sleep naked, window open to catch a trickle of a summer’s breeze. Ginny stretched out, the thin blanket she had draped over her legs, falling on the floor. Another whisper on the wind caught her attention, twitters and growls alike playing in the air.
She was compelled to walk towards her open window, seeing a blood moon sitting heavy in the night sky, casting light across the expanse of her family’s property. Ahead of her, she saw her favorite tree, swaying gently, beckoning her. Her heart fluttered at the idea of an evening spent under the stars, lying bare against the smooth bark.
Determined to let herself be free of the expectations she had lived under for the last few years, Ginny gathered her muslin blanket and headed down the creaky stairs. Gently taking one at a time, avoiding the noise that she knew would reverberate across the home, she made quick work of getting downstairs.
At the base of the stairs, the ornate mirror reflected her blue eyes, brighter than she had ever seen them before. Her breasts were just peaking above the bottom edge, her rosy nipples tight. Her magic swirls within her, pushing out to cascade a small amount of warmth around her. Something new.
For as long as she could remember, Ginny Weasley desired to be free from the constraints and expectations of being the only daughter of a pureblood family. Her failed engagement, her lackluster attempt at a Professional Quidditch career, and her inability to stay put in one place. Her family had sat her down and given her a stern talking to. She was not willing to compromise herself for anyone.
Her desire to be unburdened, to love without constraint, and to find a new beginning, compelled her to reconnect with her favorite place - underneath her Laurel Tree.
As she pushed through the back door of The Burrow, which only reminded her of her past, she desired desperately to find a way forward. A beam of moonlight illuminated the path ahead of her, and her bare feet were used to the small rocks and soft earth ahead. She was determined to spend the few hours before sunrise, basking in the peace of a quiet and tepid evening.
Magic seemed to travel in on the breeze, and a ripple of vivid gold and silver threads caught her, twirling up her legs, caressing her torso, and flourishing through her hair. The connection she felt was captivating, her flesh radiating. She felt a force of velocity, directing her closer and closer to her assumed destination. The emblazoned streaks danced around her as she accompanied their flares and sparks.
“What mystifying creatures these are," Ginny thought to herself, trying to remember if she had seen them before. A fluttering of butterflies pulsed through her as she approached the open fields at the edge of the Weasley property.
When her right foot stepped onto the open space, a group of poppies lit up, as if painted by the moon itself. She gasped with delight at the sight before her, the light reflecting off her smooth, freckled skin. She took another cautious step forward, exhilarated at the sight of another group of flowers glowing in the night, sparkles fluttering across the petals.
With more determination than ever before, Ginny started to run across the field, her swift motion delivering a brilliant swath of color to glimmer around her. Pollen spitting from the center of the wild flowers, coating her in a small layer of floral-scented dust. It was earthy, heady, and intoxicating.
She twirled around, arm stretched wide and liberated. Her hair fluttering behind her, following along while she leapt across the expanse of colors surrounding her. Her heart was beating fast, and her magic was pulsing outward, meeting the anticipation she felt.
Ginny braced herself as she connected with her magnificent tree. A fixture from before her family even owned the property, the limbs and trunk were mysterious and gentle. Laurel trees were common in England, but this was a Bay Laurel, a remnant of ancient Greece. She was convinced this was a sentient tree, the way its branches always lifted slightly when Ginny was near, as if greeting an old friend.
Tonight, she could feel something more underneath the bark. A thrumming of motion and sound, the swirls of magic connecting around her and the tree itself. She gave in to the desire to wrap her arms around the trunk, embracing the elegant tree. The rough, yet pleasantly prickly bark, dug into her soft and supple skin, her breast flattening against the surface.
A sense of peace cascade over her, the need to stay close guiding her actions. Spreading her blanket across the small patch of grass below the canopy of laurel leaves, and sprawling herself along it. Her face lifted to the sky, the night air still pulsing warmly around her. She noticed the milky-white and blue-gray clusters of stars, the moon continuing to peak at her from between the rustling leaves.
Her eyes droop, the light around her dimming, giving her a sense of calm and serenity she had not felt in a very long time.
Sleep. Slumber. Rest.
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Delicate fingers tickled down the slope of her thighs, the sudden presence of someone new causing Ginny to jump up, folding her arms across her chest.
The image before her morphed into a breathtaking woman. Rubbing her eyes a few times, Ginny was convinced she must be imagining this incredible creature next to her. With her naked body forgotten, she kept her fingers splayed across her face, hiding herself.
“Oh, you’re real,” Ginny breathed out, muffled by her hands.
A delightful giggle escaped the goddess. Long, wavy blonde hair covered her own milky white skin. Eyes silver-blue, the starlight was reflecting across the expanse of her dark, blown-out pupils. A button nose sat atop the most perfect set of rosy pink lips, a prominent cupid’s bow lifted into a demure smile. Ginny caught herself staring at those lips, observing the soft breath escaping them, fluttering across the short distance between them.
“Who are you?” Ginny finally gasped out, not sure where this enchanted entity had come from.
“I have been here all along, my heart.” The voice that escaped her mysterious companion was melodic, soft trills reverberating at her delicate words.
Ginny’s eyes fluttered down, seeing the peaks of small, round breasts, dusty pink nipples, and a dip down to the curvy, feminine waist. Her legs were spread out, thick thighs and rounded calves ending in dainty feet. The crease of her belly was laid out next to Ginny, her right hip resting on the blanket, with a slightly muscular arm propping her up. The stranger's left hand continued to gently caress Ginny’s thighs, while her piercing eyes drank in the expanse of Ginny's body.
“I don’t believe I have met you before,” Ginny breathed out hesitantly, worried she would offend her new companion. Her heart jumped into her throat as a shiver pulsed from the bottom of her spine upward.
“I have waited millennia for you, my soulmate, the true desire of my heart. A partner of equal measure and worth. My Father has granted me one last wish– a mortal life with the person who has ignited my very essence.”
It was at that moment that Ginny felt a blast of energy course through her entire being, stirring her spirit, setting ablaze her magical core. She was connected to this enchantress in a way she couldn’t put into words. This was a moment of pure joy, acceptance, and desire.
“Why me?” Ginny asked uncertainly. This couldn’t be real. She must be dreaming.
“You are Ginevra Weasley, the kindest, strongest, and most beautiful person I have ever encountered. Your magic called to me on your eighteenth birthday, and I have been watching you ever since.” A blush burned from Ginny's chest up to her cheeks, her freckles becoming more prominent across her high cheekbones.
“I have been desired by many, chased across the expanse of the earth to be owned and destroyed. I prayed to my Father to save me from the harm I would befall. I sang to the river gods to deliver me from being consumed by another. I implored the earth I fell upon to swallow me whole to deliver me to the freedom of a quiet life.”
Ginny was mesmerized, her breathing growing heavy, her heart hammering erratically, as she tried to follow the flowery language of the sprite glowing before her. The words fluttered around her as she moved closer, sitting on her shins.
“Who are you?” Ginny repeated, breathy and hoarse. Her desire for this striking woman caused her limbs to tremble.
“Let me show you.” The goddess declared, abruptly crushing her lips against Ginny’s own. The moans that escaped them both echoed across the field, the pollen swirling to create a thick dusting across the air.
An enticing lick to the bottom lip implored Ginny to open herself up completely, and a gentle prodding stroked inward, entwining their tongues. Flashes of the other woman's memories poured into her mind. The visions she saw of a maiden running, an expanse of earth behind her, caught Ginny by surprise. The woman looked just like the stunning one before her.
Pushing the other woman back softly, Ginny encouraged her to lie down on her back, and she braced her elbows around the siren’s head. As their bodies molded together, she continued to push deeper into her mouth, the wet sounds of their passion alighting their desires.
She felt elegant fingers push into her hair, tugging gingerly as a way to deliver the wanting they felt, not to remove her from their connected lips. The kiss was made of oxygen, roots, and fanciful flight.
Ginny broke their kiss, pulling her head back as she looked down upon the sublime angel before her. Her lips were bruised, and her chest was heaving in quick succession. And as Ginny moved her fingers between her lover’s thighs, she felt the coating of a slick yearn dripping down.
“You are already so wet for me.” Ginny’s eyes roamed over the delicate face before her, as she slowly stroked her. "May I taste you?”
“Please,” her partner begged.
Ginny kissed her way down, across a dainty chin, resting for a moment on the pulse thrumming in her neck. She bit down gently on her sweetheart's shoulder, sucking in desperately to leave a mark.
“Ginny, please.”
She was spurred on, her lips finding the peak of a nipple, as she suckled deeply before letting go in a loud pop. Her nose gently tickled the valley between the other breast, using it to guide her to the other nipple as she locked eyes with those icy blues. Her mouth covered her stiff peak and sucked again, while her fingers continued to swirl around the apex of her lover. Ginny’s curious digits found a blanket of hair covering her mound, and her breath hitched at the wet, coarse curls.
“Gods,” her beloved moaned out heavily, her soft belly fluttering up and down as Ginny continued to administer kisses on her way down.
When she finally arrived at the place she desired most, she pushed her arms underneath the ample thighs of the woman before her and spread them gently. Her eyes caught on the rosy pink clit peaking out between puffy lips.
“You are fucking gorgeous,” she growled faintly. Ginny couldn’t wait any longer, and immediately licked from the bottom of the lips upward, her tongue flattened to gather the arousal from the goddess’s center, and swirling her tongue around the sensitive bud.
“You taste incredible, like a burst of sweet fruit and oaky wine combined.”
The mystifying woman placed her hands back on Ginny’s head, encouraging her to continue.
“Do not stop, my love. I need you.”
Ginny found herself entranced, continuing to lap up the nectar, her mouth encircling the petals of the woman's labia. Her actions delivered a delectable shiver that made her preen with the encouragement. She alternated between sucking gently and then a bit harder, knowing the way she herself enjoyed to be cared for.
“Oh, gods above, I am going to come, Ginny.”
“Morgana, yes. Let me see you come, love.” Ginny lapped at the arousal that flooded from her lover’s entrance, pushing it upwards to circle her clit. Giving just the right amount of pressure, she watched her lover’s head tilt back, and her torso arch up. Ginny brought her other hand up, pushing a finger inward, caressing the upper walls as they sucked her in, attending to the spongy flesh perfectly.
“My sweet, I’m coming!” The pulse of the orgasm that left her nymph was powerful. Even with one finger inserted, she felt the strength of her muscles pulling her in deeper. The release of her desire flowed over Ginny’s hand.
She eased herself out, lifting her hand to her mouth to lick them clean. Her lover’s eyes darkened at the sight.
“I want to watch you taste yourself.”
She lifted her hand upward, finding the nymph’s eager mouth open and waiting. The woman closed her lips around her forcefully, sucking in deep. A gravelly groan escaped.
Rising, the nymph flipped them around, laying Ginny down on her back. Their lips collided with burning desire. She trailed her fingers down Ginny’s side, and her own arousal poured down her thighs. Two fingers found her entrance in a swift motion. The palm of her lover’s hand caressing the tip of her most sensitive spot, adding a delicious pressure on it, as she started to pump her fingers in and out.
“That’s it, right there,” Ginny panted, knowing she wouldn’t last much longer. She began to crest, a splattering of stars crossing her vision as her own orgasm cascaded throughout her entire body.
“My goddess,” she moaned out loudly. “You absolute divinity.”
The two women collapsed into each other. Their sweaty bodies entangled, limp with the exertion of their lovemaking.
“That was perfection. I never want to let you go.”
The nymph placed a soft kiss on her cheek. “You don’t have to, Ginny. I am yours.”
“And I am yours... but who are you?” Ginny asked again, hoping she would get her answer this time.
“You may call me Daphne.”