Authors' Note: This is a story created spontaneously by the three of us at the crack of dawn. Feel free to leave any sort of comment or reaction...this story was not made to be offensive. Feedback of all sorts welcome and appreciated. Please review!

WARNINGS: This story is a one shot drabble centered on heavily mature themes. Highly graphic material in a sexual nature, lemon/lime, slash/yaoi, BDSM, NON CONSENSUAL.

DISCLAIMER: We do not own anything related to the universe of Harry Potter. All characters and spells used in this story belong to JK Rowling. Only the storyline itself belong to us.


A Modicum of Pleasure

They say that a full moon brings out the carnal lust in magical creatures; and we do mean "creatures."

The fire flickered warmly in the circular room, causing the silver ornaments to twinkle eerily. Dumbledore sat motionless in his chair, his x-ray-like eyes fixated at the looming office entrance, as if willing the door to open. His penetrating, light-blue eyes sparkled behind his half-moon spectacles as the door slowly creaked open.

"Good-evening sir," squeaked Dobby, tugging nervously on his Hogwarts tea towel. He bowed low, bending over graciously, his rump kissing the sweet night air.

The slight motion caused something to explode within Dumbledore's senile yet passionate body, enflaming his senses with burning desire. Helpless against his natural reaction, Dumbledore let out a primal and guttural moan.

"Come closer, my boy," rasped Dumbledore, wrapping his dark periwinkle robes around him tighter. He stared down his crooked nose and clenched his fists in anticipation as the house elf slowly meandered to his feet.

"How may I serve you tonight, master," whispered Dobby fearfully. His luminous green eyes were downcast as he bowed again, awaiting his master's first order of the night.

The of pace of the Headmaster's breathing quickened as he excitedly wet his dry cracked lips as he fantasized of the forbidden pleasures that would transpire in the moments to follow. He whispered alluringly, "Do not be frightened, my boy…this will be a night you will never forget." His toned strained with force. "I promise that."

Dobby could not help but let out a small squeal of mixed anticipation and fright. He began to assume his usual position, but Dumbledore barked, "We are trying something new tonight, Dobby." His eyes glimmered mischievously. He bent down to gently lift the elf from his bent-over position and, his sense heightened by the scent of his soon to be victim, let out a slow quiet sigh of longing. Knowing that he must act quickly before he lost his arousal (Blast his age!), he summoned the chains from under his desk.

Before Dobby could make any noise of protest, he was already cuffed in heavy iron manacles and fetters. He turned to face his Master with a questioning look of trepidation. Terrified green orbs locked with manic blue as Dumbledore flicked his Elder wand and Dobby immediately flew up to the high ceiling of the Headmaster's office. His restraints attached themselves magically to the ceiling and the elf was hanging spread eagle above the sex-crazed wizard.

From below, Dumbledore admired every peak and valley of Dobby's small buttocks- the product of many years of hard labor. His eyes locked in on his target, and he almost came right then and there at the sight of the quivering chasm.

"Engorgio." Dumbledore growled menacingly.

Dobby's eyes widened in sheer dread as his fate began to dawn on him.

Dumbledore smiled sinisterly as the first stage of his preparations were complete. He quickly loosened his robes and threw them over his shoulders to reveal his magically enhanced member, twitching in all of its seventeen inches of glory.

"Master, please, please," Dobby pleaded helplessly, shivering ten feet above the glistening dagger of doom which would soon impale him. "Please don't hurt me, Master."

Dumbledore grew even harder in realizing that his sword would soon be buried deep within its sheath. He threw his head back proudly as a slight breeze graced his sinewy pale body. "It is time," he thought. "Wingardium Leviosa!" he bellowed.

His body rocketed straight up towards space and Dobby squeezed his eyes shut in anticipation of the pain and pleasure that would ensue. But nothing could prepare him; upon penetration, he was overcome with the sensation of being torn in two; from the inside out; spreading from his core all the way to his trembling fingertips. He screamed in pure agony, sobs wracking his small body as the wizard beneath him pumped and hammered feverishly. Surely, he would die soon.

Dumbledore moaned in dripping ecstasy as Dobby's sphincter wrapped tightly around his rod, as if never wanting to relinquish its vice grip hold; and quite frankly, Dumbledore would not have minded. He continued to thrust mercilessly up into the crying elf; and soon, his groans of gratification were synchronized with Dobby's wails of despair. Soon, Dumbledore's mind was blank in complete euphoria as Dobby fluttered in and out of consciousness. Knowing his time was near, Dumbledore pointed his wand at the limp rag doll formerly known as Dobby, and grunted, "Ennervate." As Dobby's wet eyes opened, the realization of this nightmare being his reality hit him with full force.

Dumbledore gave one final roar of thrilling pleasure as he exploded into Dobby's now not so small rectum. The duo cried one more time in sexual harmony as Dumbledore's love juice shot through the house elf. Choking from the copius amount of hot liquid, Dobby could not help releasing it through his facial orifices, showering the Headmaster's office with its current tenant's milky seed. As the suspicious precipitation drizzled down upon the office's occupants, Fawkes the Phoenix awoke with a confused squawk as the former Headmasters and Headmistresses fled indignantly from their portraits.

Dumbledore wrapped his long arms lovingly around Dobby's small frame. Panting, he brought his lips close to Dobby's shaking bat-like ears. His light blue eyes twinkled behind the askew half-moon spectacles. "Ready for round two?"