Dobby sat at the edge of his bed surveying his room with a smile. Dumbledore had been kind enough to give him a place of his own. Lumpy sweaters were folded neatly and piles of socks were stacked lovingly around his bed. They swayed precariously around the small house-elf, but they stayed standing. Plastered on every inch of the walls around him were moving pictures of one person: his beloved Harry Potter. They wallpapered his elf sized room, even decorating his ceiling.
Dobby got up and weaved his way around the piles of clothes to a dresser. He opened the drawer, which appeared to be empty except for one single sock placed in the center.
The Sock.
Harry Potter's Sock.
He took it from his drawer, tenderly with both hands, and carried it back to his bed. It still smelled like the chamber of secrets and Harry's foot sweat. He put it too his nose and breathed in the grime. His thick tool rose immediately to attention. He turned the sock over and on the other side was two googly eyes and a paper scar pasted onto it. "Oh Harry Potter," he squeaked, aching. He placed the sock around his elf penis with a groan and as he pumped his fist up and down he chanted, "Dobby is a free elf!" with each thrust of his tiny pelvis.
"Dobby is a free elf! Dobby is a free elf!" he panted.
He could feel it, he was close. All the pictures of Harry on the walls had their eyes closed, their faces hiding in their robes.
"YOU MUST NOT HARM HARRY POTTER!" he screamed as he exploded into a mind-numbing orgasm.
The piles of socks and sweaters tumbled to the floor, gently burying him. "Dobby is a free elf," he squeaked one last time, his voice muffled, before he drifted off to sleep under his clothes.