Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore never expected to find true love when he walked into Madame Malkin's with a lone sock on a quiet February afternoon. "One can never have enough socks," he remembered saying to one of his students, the Boy Who Lived. Harry had nodded as though he understood but Albus knew that no eleven year old boy could ever comprehend exactly what he meant. In December particularly, the headmaster's office let in drafts that always seemed to hit Albus in the most unfortunate places. Thinking of the effects of the cold, an image of Gellert appeared in his mind. "Oh, Alby," he imagined Gellert sighing as he stared disappointedly at teenage Albus's nuts. "It won't be much fun but I guess we can try."
It had begun as a simple quest for the Elder Wand. Caught up in his fantasies of possessing such power, Gellert had one day mindlessly spun a long wool sock from the tip of his wand. "It'll hold the Elder Wand, once we find it," he proclaimed, but Dumbledore saw something else in the sock. He saw it in Gellert's hand and then he saw it in his own hand, with Gellert's penis inside. The sock was wrapping paper and the penis was the present.
Since then, no number of socks had ever been enough. In the back of his mind, Albus figured that if he found the right sock with the right texture and the right design, Gellert would slip it over his boner and present it to Albus the way his father used to offer him gifts on Christmas day. Of course, that was before the incident with the young muggle boys…
Approaching the counter, Albus abandoned his childhood fantasies (for the moment). Looking for Madame Malkin, he scanned the shop. "Good afternoon, Master Dumbledore!" Dumbledore jumped at the voice, spinning around. A short, dick-height house-elf stood directly behind him. Does the master require Dobby's assistance?"
Master Dumbledore. Albus liked the sound of that. He also noticed that Dobby the house-elf was wearing fifteen socks on his head. He liked that even more. "I do require assistance," Dumbledore replied slyly. He twinkled his eyes, an ability he possessed that was in his opinion more sensual than winking. Dobby seemed to notice: he shivered, despite the fifteen socks.
"What can Dobby do?" the elf whispered. He raised a hand to the height of his head AKA the heigh of Albus' dick and quickly moved to lower it. But Albus grabbed the hand. He didn't want to let go.
"I have a problem with my sock," Albus said huskily. He removed the item from his pocket. "There's a hole… right at the tip," he explained haltingly, hoping Dobby was following.
"Dobby understands," squeaked the elf and Albus knew he did understand, completely. "All of Dobby's socks have holes at the tips. It is the price we pay for…"
"Being warm?" Albus asked.
"Warm everywhere," Dobby agreed. Albus nodded. At that moment, he couldn't picture Gellert's face. The elf's big eyes and sock-covered head swam before his face figuratively, before his dick literally.
"It's awfully cold this time of year," Albus began.
"Today especially," Dobby agreed.
"I can't help but think of a simple solution to all this cold… especially when it affects us in the most unfortunate way."
"A simple solution," Dobby repeated dreamily.
Simultaneously, Albus and the elf stripped. Albus pulled his robe down, revealing his rod of destiny and Dobby tore of his long jumper. The wizard and the elf gasped. Each had covered his cock with a wool sock. And what was more, the socks were matching.
"I knew I'd find you one day," whispered Albus, both to Dobby and the lost sock. Dobby was stroking Albus' stiffy—or maybe the sock; Albus wasn't sure and he didn't care.
"I never imagined I'd find the perfect match," Dobby sighed. In that moment, Dumbledore knew that he intended to fuck Dobby. He performed a quick impervious charm on both socks because he didn't have any condoms on him and he didn't know how whether STDs could spread between species.
Right there, in the center of Madame Malkin's, they did it. Albus finally let go of his thoughts of Gellert and his father and those muggle boys and the Elder Wand which he had only ever desired as a metaphor for a really vivacious loveshaft. He only saw Dobby and his fifteen socks—sixteen if he counted the one on his cockrocket.
Together, wizard and elf sank into the throes of warm, snuggly passion. Elf and wizard exploded with the force of a thousand erections and both socks erupted with the force of their cum. That night when Madame Malkin entered the shop, she found the walls papered with semen, blood, and chunks of flesh and she screamed.
Little did she know that this was not the work of a dark wizard or a teenage prankster but of true connection. This was a crime of love. Albus and Dobby had ended their lives warm and in love and with a bang… and a BANG.