This contains slash, and some very strange Dobby pairings. Continue at your own risk; the author cannot be held responsible for squicking anybody. ;) Ok, read and enjoy, and don't forget to review! I don't own Harry Potter.

The rain beat against the windowpanes, tapping on the glass with a continuous, irritating rapping. It was a stormy night; the wind was howling outside, whistling around the eaves of the cabin. Inside though, the room was warm and snug. A fire crackled merrily, throwing dancing patterns of light on the walls. Hagrid sat firmly ensconced in his big armchair, darning socks – at the moment though, his hands were still. He looked dubiously at the eager house elf in front of him.

"Yeh're too small, Dobby," he explained. "I'd rip yeh open."

"Dobby stretches, sir!" the house elf said breathlessly. "Please, sir, Dobby wants you to!"

Hagrid studied him, musing to himself. "A tiny mite like yerself an' a 'alf giant like me? Nah…Dobby, why d'yeh want t' do this so bad?"

Dobby gazed up at him avidly, tennis ball eyes watering. "Dobby is an outcast, sir," he squeaked plaintively. "Other house elves do not approve of Dobby. Dobby admires Harry Potter very much, but he needs more, sir! Harry Potter" – he looked guilty and lowered his voice to a whisper – "Harry Potter is not big enough to fulfill Dobby's needs!" He looked horrified at himself and started banging his head on Hagrid's table. "Bad Dobby! Bad Dobby!"

Hagrid let him continue for a moment, too taken aback to react. He stared at Dobby, who was now punishing himself vigorously, before grabbing the elf by the back of his neck and hauling him away from the furniture.

"Harry screwed yeh!?" Hagrid asked, thunderstruck. Dobby nodded his head enthusiastically.

"Yes, yes, sir! Harry Potter did not want to at first, but he felt sorry for Dobby so he did it as a Christmas present, sir!"

"An' he wasn't big enough fer yeh?" Hagrid said, raising one bushy eyebrow. The way he looked at it, Harry's 'wand' would have to be the diameter of a pencil if Dobby considered him poorly endowed. Poor kid, he thought.

"Dobby likes Harry Potter very very much, sir, but he is wanting more," Dobby squeaked earnestly. "Ever since Dobby is freed, he has only his hands to keep him busy, except for Christmases."

"Nothin' else, eh Dobby?" Hagrid asked. Dobby looked embarassed and tugged at the tea cozy perched on his head.

"Dobby is using Professor Dumbledore's wand sometimes," he acknowledged guiltily. Hagrid, who had just taken a gulp of tea, choked and spat it out.

"Dumbledore's wand?!"

"Yes, sir, Dumbledore has a very big wand!" Dobby said. Hagrid coughed, a blush rising up past his tangled beard.

"Er, 'ere now, Dobby, when yeh say his wand…d'yeh mean his real wand? The one he does magic with?" Dobby seemed puzzled for a few seconds, then nodded so hard his batlike ears flapped against his skull.

"Yes, sir, Professor Dumbledore is doing great magic with his wand!" he squeaked.

"But is it…never mind," Hagrid muttered, trying desperately not to think about the house elf's words. Images of Dumbledore and Dobby kept floating up…More to distract himself than to please Dobby, he stood up and put his cup down. "All righ' Dobby, bend over an' drop yer shorts," he said, resigning himself to the inevitable. After all, if Harry had done it…

Dobby's eyes filled with tears of joy. "Thank you, sir, thank you! Dobby has been so lonely…" He hastened to comply, turning around and presenting Hagrid with a bare posterior. Hagrid groaned at the sight; it confirmed his worst fears. Screwing Dobby was going to be a bit like trying to ram a baseball bat through the eye of a needle. A limp baseball bat, he corrected silently, looking down at his flaccid member. He couldn't remember ever being less aroused; did it suffice to say that he simply wasn't an elf person? He looked at Dobby again, considering. Even given that he could somehow fit in the elf, how was he to go about it? Did he stick it in the elf, or was it more like sticking the elf on his penis? Dobby was still waiting patiently; meanwhile, the prospect of having sex with him was growing more and more unappetizing. And suppose he did get hurt? The last thing Hagrid wanted was to be found in his cabin, penis smeared with bits of house elf. The more he thought about it, the more convinced he became that this was not a good idea.

"Er, Dobby?" Hagrid said hesitantly. The house elf was shivering in anticipation.

"Please, sir, Dobby is not afraid!" he squeaked.

Helplessly, Hagrid mopped at the sweat beading on his brow. He didn't want to let Dobby down, but the elf was just too small! Even one of his fingers would be a lot for him –

Hagrid opened his hand and looked at the five digits. His finger! He had found the solution to his dilemma. Distasteful as it was, it was better than the alternatives, which would leave Dobby heartbroken or seriously injured. He knelt down by the elf, grabbing a bottle of lotion and smearing it liberally on his forefinger.

"All righ', Dobby," he said hoarsely. "Keep yer eyes shut, okay?"

"Yes, sir," Dobby agreed, squeezing his eyes shut tightly. Hagrid took a deep breath, then slipped his finger into the elf.

Dobby moaned with pleasure; Hagrid found that he hadn't been lying – he did stretch. As he moved his finger faster, Dobby's breathing quickened and his cries of delight increased.

"Yes, sir, yes, yes, yes! OH!" Hagrid rolled his eyes and kept pushing his finger in, wanting to get it over with as soon as possible. Finally, the house elf came, screaming in a paroxysm of ecstasty. As soon as he did, Hagrid snatched his hand back and lurched out of his cabin into the storm. He went straight to the rain barrel, where he scrubbed at his finger. At last, completely soaked but free of any trace of lotion and Dobby's fluids, he staggered back in.

The house elf was gone. The cabin looked exactly the same as it did before Dobby had come. Hagrid breathed a sight of relief and picked up his socks, planning to resume his darning. He sat down in his chair, then lept back up again.

"Winky?" he asked, incredulously. From the depths of the armchair, Winky emerged, clutching a butterbeer and hiccuping disconsolately. She peered up at him hopefully.

"Hagrid sir, Winky is so lonely…"

The End!

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