Another Untitled One
Here we go again. Harry/Dumbledore NC-17. Don't like, don't 
read. Challenge set by npetrenko. 

15. Virgin Sacrifice
To get extra magical power wizards have to have sex with 
virgins. The more powerful virgin, the bigger the power 
boost is. Who is going to take Harry's virginity ? 
Could be: HP/AD, HP/LV, HP/SS, HP/LM or other.

"Sit down, Harry. Sherbet lemon?"

"No, thank you, sir."

Dumbledore smiled, replacing the candy dish on his desk. "I'm 
sure you're wondering why I asked you here, it being only a 
few hours before the feast and all."

"If this is about those dungbombs in the charms corridor, I swear-"

"No, no," Dumbledore said, chuckling. "I assure you Mr. Filch 
is quite used to pranks around this time of the year. It's 
about your magic."

"My magic?" Harry asked, confused. "Sir, I already defeated 
Voldemort, what could you possibly want with my magic?"

Dumbledore continued to smile. "Have a sherbet lemon, Harry."

Harry looked at him warily, but took a lemon, looking it over 
carefully, sniffing it, and licking it once before putting it 
in his mouth. Training with Moody had made him careful bordering 
paranoia, and it saved his life a few times. "So what about 
my magic?" he said, pushing the candy to the side of his mouth.

"Harry, are you aware of bond magic?"

"Vaguely. We studied it a little in History of Magic. There's 
a few kinds. Soul, Heart, Friend... Um. That's it, right?"

Dumbledore's eyes seemed to get a bit more twinkly. "There's one 
more."

There was a long pause. Harry finally asked, exasperated, "Well 
what is it?"

"Sexual."

Another pause. "And?"

Dumbledore cleared his throat. "Obviously you're not aware of 
this, but when one wizard is extremely powerful," he nodded at 
Harry, "and, ah, shall we say inexperienced, his or her magic 
can be very important in the er, advancement of other witches 
or wizards."

Harry blinked. It took him a few minutes, but he managed to 
sort everything out. "So what you're saying is that if a powerful 
wizard - or witch - is still a virgin, they can... what? Give 
another witch or wizard their power?"

"In a manner of speaking," Dumbledore said, offering him the 
candy dish again.

Harry took another lemon. "So... mind telling me why you're 
telling me this?"

"Well, it's come to my attention that, other than a brief 
relationship with Miss Chang, you've never decided to get 
involved with another witch. Or wizard," he added.

Harry blushed, and popped the lemon in his mouth, not meeting 
Dumbledore's eyes. There had been speculation in the Prophet 
about his sexuality, since all his friends had started dating, 
and he'd opted to stay single. He, himself, still wasn't sure. 
"Yeah, well. Having a Dark Lord after your blood isn't exactly
condusive to a romantic relationship..."

"So I'm correct in thinking that you're still, ah... pure?"

Harry's blushed increased. "Uh, yeah," he said quietly.

"Excellent!"

Dumbledore's enthusiasm only served to confuse him further. 
"Why?" he asked, eyes narrowed.

"Well, I was hoping that you wouldn't mind..."

A pause, and then, "WHAT?!" Harry's eyes went wide, and he 
choked on the lemon. A moment later, and he'd spit it out, 
hitting one of the portraits, which gave a yelp. "I'm sorry, 
sir. I could've sworn you just asked me to have sex with you."

The twinkle increased. A tiny nod.

"Hell no!" Harry shouted, getting to his feet. "With all due 
respect, sir, that's just... that's..." He couldn't think of 
single thing to say outside the spectrum of, 'That's incredibly
disgusting.'

"Sit down, Harry." Begrudgingly, Harry sat. "Now, you must 
understand my dear boy, I am not asking that you pledge your 
life to me. The bond does not require anything outside intercourse, 
and I think you'll find the process to be quite pleasant."

"The pro... THE PROCESS?!" Harry looked at him incredulously. 
"I'm sorry, sir. I don't think I can do this. I want my first 
time to be perfect. Sweet and romantic."

"I have candles and rose petals?" Dumbledore suggested.

"Okay, that's it," Harry said, standing and going to the door. 
"I'm not doing this."

"I'll give you some time to think it over!" Dumbledore called 
after him.

Harry was in a kind of daze as he walked away from Dumbledore's 
office. He couldn't believe it. He wouldn't believe it. Maybe 
he could get Hermione to Obliviate him. Yes, that would be 
the best thing. Unfortunately, he was so caught up with thinking 
about what had just happened, he bumped into the last person 
(well, second to last, he thought, after Dumbledore) he wanted 
to see just then, and fell to the floor.

"Sorry, Professor."

"Potter, I thought all that training with Moody would've taught 
you that 'constant vigilance' does not entail slamming yourself 
into the nearest target." Snape's tone was cold, and he did not
move to help Harry up.

Harry got to his feet, brushing himself off. "I did say sorry."

"So I heard. And what exactly is the cause of such distraction?"

"You don't want to know," Harry mumbled.

Snape looked down the hall. "Did you just come from the 
Headmaster's office, Potter?"

"Yes, sir," Harry said, a bit hesitant.

"Ah. I see. Let me offer you some advice. Just go along with it."

Harry had thought the afternoon had held enough surprises for 
him, but it turned out he'd been wrong. "Excuse me?"

Snape sighed. "Professor Dumbledore spoke with you about creating 
a Sexual Bond, I assume? Virgin wizard and all that?" He waved a 
hand, as if their conversation was no more out of the ordinary 
than a discussion of homework.

"Uh, yeah, actually. How'd you know?" A realization quickly 
formed in his brain. "You?"

"Indeed, Potter. I was one of the stronger wizards in my year 
at school, and being a virgin at the time, the headmaster chose 
me to help him. It's quite an honor."

"An honor," Harry repeated dully.

"Quite."

"Good bye, sir." Harry turned to leave.

"Potter, would you stop being a selfish brat? Who else did you 
have in mind? Would you really waste your power on some silly 
school girl who only wants you because you're the bloody Boy 
Who Wouldn't Die? By giving yourself to Professor Dumbledore, 
you increase his power, and the chance for protection should 
another dark lord rise."

Harry ran his fists over his forehead, trying to block out 
the fact that Snape actually made sense. Who would he give 
his virginity to that would need the power more than Dumbledore? 
"I hate being powerful!"

Snape raised an eyebrow. "Do get over yourself."

Harry glared at him. "Fine. Fine! I'll do it." He stalked off, 
wanting to mentally prepare himself before he went through with 
it. And Dumbledore had mentioned something about candles...

*****

Harry knocked tentatively on the door to Dumbledore's private 
chambers. It was an hour after the feast, and he had begged off 
a 'we-finished-school-for-good' party with Ron and the others. 
How he wished he could've stayed with them. Dressed in a pair of 
jeans and a t-shirt, for he didn't know how the hell he was 
supposed to dress for this, Harry was feeling extremely nervous.

Dumbledore opened the door, wearing a silver dressing gown and 
slippers. "Come in," he said, stepping aside.

The nervousness increased when Harry realized this would be the 
first time he'd ever entered a teacher's private quarters, even 
though technically Dumbledore wasn't his teacher anymore. The 
leaving feast had seen to that. He stepped inside, looking around. 
All in all it was... normal. Not at all like Dumbledore's office, 
which had all those contraptions and odds and ends. They were in 
what appeared to be a modest sitting room, with a kitchen nook 
off to the side. He shook himself a little. It was going to be 
one night, not like he was going to move in or anything.

"Drink?" Dumbledore asked, gesturing to a bottle of champage on 
ice.

'Merlin, he even has champagne,' Harry thought, feeling the 
beginnings of a headache behind his eyes. "No, thank you, sir."

Dumbledore chuckled. "Given what's about to happen, Harry, I 
think you can call me Albus."

Harry pinched the bridge of his nose. "Albus. Okay. Can we get 
this over with?"

"Are you sure you don't want a drink?"

Though he thought he probably should take a drink, if only to 
calm his nerves, Harry had to once again decline. "Where's 
the bedroom?"

Dumbledore frowned. "Through here," he said, leading Harry 
into bedroom.

The bed was large, though unlike the dormitory beds, was not 
a four poster. The headboard was oak, and carved intricately, 
and Harry noticed how many pillows were propped against it. He 
thought he might be smothered. Resolved to the fact that now 
that he was here, he would have to go through with it, Harry 
toed off his shoes and socks, and walked to the bed, pulling 
off his t-shirt.

"I remember you saying you want your first time to be romantic," 
Dumbledore said, moving to stand at the foot of the bed.

"Honestly, Headmaster, and I swear I don't mean any disrespect, 
but please, can't we just skip all that and get to the point?" 
He had not turned around, and was now unbuttoning his jeans. 
Sliding them off his hips, he tossed them on the floor next to 
his shirt. Not hesitating, just wanting the night to be over 
and done with, he climbed into bed, and removed his boxers, 
then laid down, arse in the air.

Dumbledore chuckled. "I must admit, the other participants of 
this particular bond were slightly more enthusiastic."

"Like Snape?" Harry asked, remembering his earlier conversation. 
"Yeah. He told me." The bed sunk a little, and he closed his 
eyes, waiting. A surprisingly soft, warm hand rested on his 
bottom, and something equally warm and somewhat gooey ran down 
his cleft. "That feels weird."

"So I've been told. Just relax, Harry."

As the hand started to massage him, Harry found this a lot easier 
to do than he had originally thought. A finger was rubbed around
his entrance, and slowly pushed inside. He buried his face in a 
pillow, stifling a moan. Shivers from nowhere passed over his 
body, and he felt goosebumps in his arms. The finger pulled back, 
and Harry bit down on the pillow. Sheer torture, and it went on 
for a good minute or so, just stroking, thrusting. He had no idea 
that this could've felt this good, but had he known, he decided 
he would've agreed to it a lot sooner. 

Another finger was added, and he thought he tasted blood, then 
realized he'd been biting his tongue to keep from making noise. 
'To hell with it,' he thought, and let out a loud moan as 
Dumbledore's fingers stretched him wide. He could feel his 
arousal building, and a brief glance down told him he was 
half-hard. Three fingers now.

"You're awfully tight. Just relax," Dumbledore repeated, his 
tone soft.

Harry whimpered, and couldn't take it anymore. He pushed back 
hard, impaling himself on the fingers, and nearly screamed. 
"Oh, Merlin, please!" He continued to push back and pull 
forward, wondering why Dumbledore was allowing it to continue, 
but too needy to care. "Please, oh... feels so good, more," 
he begged, feeling tears in his eyes.

"Let it come, Harry," Dumbledore whispered.

Reaching down, Harry took hold of his erection and began 
pumping furiously, still riding Dumbledore's fingers. 
Everything seemed to go so quickly, building so fast he 
thought he would die from the pleasure. Screaming incoherently, 
he came all over his hand, then slumped to the mattress. A few 
seconds later, he opened his eyes, wondering if he'd passed out 
from the pleasure, and realized that Dumbledore's fingers were
still inside him. "Oh. I ruined that, didn't I?"

A soft chuckle. "No, you didn't, Harry. In fact, that might've 
helped you to relax somewhat."

"You're telling me," Harry purred. He wanted nothing more than 
to curl up and sleep, but the fingers were moving inside him 
again, and he knew he had to endure a little more pleasure 
filled torment. The idea did not bother him one bit. 

With concentrated effort, he got to his knees again, and 
the mattress shifted once more. The hand that had been caressing 
his bottom was now holding onto his hip, and he could feel 
the tip of Dumbledore's beard brushing the small of his back. 
It felt... nice. "Albus," he breathed.

"Ready, Harry?"

"Mm," Harry mumbled, feeling relaxed, and rather at peace. He 
whimpered at the loss of the fingers, though it only lasted 
a moment, and he felt the head of a rather prominent erection 
against him. The last bit of tension left him, and he buried 
his head in the pillows, grunting slightly as Dumbledore slid 
inside him. He'd thought it would hurt more, but as he was 
still riding out the residual waves of his last orgasm, 
everything seemed to be perfect.

"Everything all right?"

"If you don't start to move, I won't be held responsible for 
whatever hex I hit you with," Harry said, pushing back.

Dumbledore chuckled, and Harry let out a relieved breath as
he finally started to move. After a few thrusts, he could feel 
himself growing hard again, and gasped when a strong hand 
encircled his cock, stroking it in time with the thrusts. It 
felt so good, to be full like that, and Harry was quite, quite 
happy with what was happening, despite his earlier protests. 
And then Dumbledore brushed his prostate.

A burst of babble broke from Harry's lips as something 
indescribable happened to his body. With every thrust, another 
wave of pleasure, and he was trying not to come too soon from 
the double assault. He tried to think of anything that would 
help him last longer. Snape. That would be it. Greasy hair, 
long nose, yellowed teeth, Dumbledore's cock brushing his 
prostate again, causing him to scream loudly. 'Not working,' 
he thought, feeling his climax building.

"Albus, please, soon..."

He felt the hand on his cock grab the base tightly, and 
Dumbledore's thrusts increased dramatically. With the 
restriction, he couldn't come, but the continued thrusts 
were bringing him to the tip of climax and holding him there. 
No amount of begging or pleading got Dumbledore to remove his 
hand, but Harry could feel warm puffs of breath on his back, 
and a warm rush of fluid that made him feel slightly 
uncomfortable. The discomfort, however, was immediately 
forgotten the moment Dumbledore's hand started stroking 
him again.

"Please, please," he begged, pushing into the hand. Release 
was almost immediate, and Harry was sure he was going to pass 
out from the sensations. His entire body felt like ice, then 
fire, then as though little pleasurable pinpricks covered his 
skin from top to bottom. When it was all over, he collapsed, 
not even caring that he was lying on a particularly wet patch 
of blanket.

The bed shifted, and Harry purred, burying his face in a soft 
pillow, and stretched. He'd not felt this good since, well, 
ever. Not even winning the Quiddith Cup could compare to how 
happy and sated he felt, and he wondered again why he, at first, 
didn't want to agree to this. A warm, damp washcloth ran over
his bottom, to his entrance, cleaning him up, and he didn't 
argue when Dumbledore rolled him over to clean off his front. 
A whispered spell, and the damp patch was gone, leaving the 
blankets as fresh as they were before.

Harry looked up at Dumbledore, who had already put on his 
dressing gown again. Words failed him, but he managed a noise 
which sounded sort of like, "Th-nk-oo," and grinned tiredly.

"No, Harry, thank you. I appreciate the gift you've just given me."

Harry was confused for a second, then remembered the reason 
he'd agreed to this in the first place. "Oh. That. No problem. 
I mean, it's not like I was going to give it to Snape or anyone 
like that."

"And why not?" said a new voice from the doorway.

Barely able to lift his head, Harry glanced over, and was too 
tired to care that he'd just insulted Snape, who was standing 
just inside the room. "Because," he said, still grinning.

Dumbledore laughed, uncorking the champagne bottle with a loud 
pop. He poured three glasses. "I think what Harry meant to say 
was that he's happy he finally agreed."

"In not so many words," Harry said, slowly realizing that he 
was still naked, and pulled up the blanket to cover himself.

"What a Gryffindor-ish show of modesty now," Snape sneered, 
taking a glass from Dumbledore. "You're in my spot, Potter."

"Eh?" Harry asked, confused. He sat up with difficulty, looking 
from Dumbledore to Snape, and back again. "Sir?"

Snape's eyes narrowed. "You cannot tell me that you're going to 
walk out of here, satisfied with one night with the Headmaster?"

Harry thought about this a moment, reaching for his clothes. 
His muscles were protesting the movement, and all he wanted to 
do was curl up and sleep. However, he really didn't want to 
intrude on Snape and Dumbledore, no matter how his views of the 
latter had changed. "Um. I suppose that would be up to him," he 
said, looking back at Dumbledore.

Dumbledore smiled modestly. "Well, I'd be happy to oblige if 
you were to, ah, return for a repeat performance."

Harry slid on his shoes and tied them up. "If you wouldn't 
mind," he said, slightly embarrassed. Snape gave him a knowing 
look.

"I'm free on Saturday," Dumbledore said, sipping his champagne.

Harry nodded to both of them, and left, wondering just how 
many ex-pupils would be visiting Dumbledore in the week to come.

FIN

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