Perchance to Dream - a bedtime story for Koshka

Title: Perchance to Dream or Giant Squid fucks Albus Dumbledore
Author: Emily Waters
Beta: Callistianstar
Genre: Quasi-angst, pseudo-drama, semi-humour.
Rating: NC-21!!!
Summary:Giant Squid fucks Albus Dumbledore... honestly, there isn't much more to it than that.

WARNING!!! The contents of this story are extremely disturbing and should not be read by ANYONE!!!

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1.

His body was weakened, his thoughts blurred. Doesn't matter, Dumbledore thought, almost there... his game is almost over...

He took a single step back, leaning against the cold tower wall. His eyes sought out Severus' and their gazes met for the last time.

The two most skilled Legilimens in the world stared at each other speechlessly, as a soundless, yet incredibly real and tangible connection formed between them, glowing in the darkness of the night like a silver strand...

It's all right, Severus, Dumbledore thought. We have known for months it would be this way. It's nothing but a grand performance, well thought-through, excellently rehearsed. We are both ready, you and I. Do it – and let me go. Please.

Something like genuine panic flashed in Severus' eyes.

“Severus, please,” Dumbledore said out loud.

As you wish, Sir.

The green light, aimed at him, cut through the pitch-black night. There was no pain – just a blunt, powerful impact that sent him over the edge of the wall...

And then, he found himself falling.

The fluttering sleeves of his robe felt like wings, as he kept falling, for what seemed like eternity, his limbs flailing, his fingers involuntarily trying to grasp at the currents of air that struck against his body.

Ah, Severus! Dumbledore thought with an indulgent, rueful smile crossing his lips, you sentimental fool – didn't have enough malice in you for a proper Unforgivable, did you? A broken neck is a far less dignified way to die, you realize. Although beggars can't be choosers, I suppose.

Suddenly, something resilient, warm, feathery – and unmistakably alive – caught him, breaking his fall. Dumbledore's fingers dug into the sudden rescuer, and a sharp cry answered him.

“Buckbeak?” Dumbledore muttered, his thoughts becoming clouded. Something was wrong about this, but for the moment, he didn't know what – it was as if his line of thought had been interrupted, and he had no hope of restoring it...

The creature continued to fly onwards, the enormous wings cutting through the air, carrying Dumbledore on its back.

He twisted to lie on his side, wincing against the familiar, sharp pain in his hand, and stared down – they were now flying over the lake... away from the Tower, away from the Death Eaters, away from Severus and others....

Then his thoughts cleared up, and Dumbledore spoke up again.

“No!” he said firmly. “I appreciate the thought, but – I need to die... that's the plan. Too much depends on it now... Severus' Unbreakable Vow will end his life, should I survive this misadventure... besides, my days are numbered.”

Buckbeak issued an indignant cry, and Dumbledore stroked the animal's thick neck, pulling himself up into a half-sitting position.

“Do not be upset with me,” Dumbledore said softly. “You've extended my life by – oh, I'd say, two minutes or so. It's a beautiful gift. Thank you for that.”

He took a deep breath and, abandoning the support of the Hyppogriff's back, plunged into the waters of the lake.

2.

This time, it seemed, his descent barely took a second.

An unbearably fiery chill ran through him as his body entered the freezing water, heading towards the bottom of the lake.

Almost over.

To his surprise, he realized that he was still holding his breath. That both surprised him and amused him – a man might be ready to die, but the body's involuntary responses and instincts seem to have a mind of their own, don't they?

He needed to let go. Simple as that – open his mouth, feel the water rush into his lungs, let it all go...

The water didn't feel so cold anymore.

Now, he thought.

He opened his lips, quite ready for the suffocating flood to enter him – and instead, was met by a slippery uncertain substance on his mouth, brushing against him, seeming surprisingly sensuous and tender, almost like a kiss...

He tasted something like Gillyweed on his tongue, and before rational thought could kick in, he swallowed. A moment later, sharp, cutting pain pierced the sides of his neck, as the gills took shape and materialized. Then the pain waned, and the only thing left was the comfortable embrace, cradling him – and that lovely kiss that captured his mouth again.

Beloved, he heard a nostalgically and achingly familiar voice in his mind. Don't be afraid. You're home.

Beloved. How long has it been since someone had called him that? He tried to recall, and he couldn't – was he really this old?

You aren't old, Albus. People like you never grow old – they think it's a waste of time. They continue to play games, for as long as they live – and even their death becomes one final gambit in that big, complex, cunning game, to assure victory for your side...

“Gellert?” Dumbledore asked, not quite believing his mind or his senses, and quite surprised to be able to speak under water in a more or less comprehensible way.

It is I. The creature stepped back. Dumbledore opened his eyes, and saw the shimmering image of the Giant Squid

“How?” Dumbledore asked.

In instant response, the creature's tentacles moved, enveloping him, binding his entire body into a web of a tight, secure embrace, cradling him and rocking him.

Shhh. Questions later. Sleep and rest now. Just... sleep and rest.

Exhausted, Dumbledore shut his eyes, and sank into the abyss, that felt like the lake’s soft sandy bottom and the comforting embrace that didn't let go of him.

3.

He didn't know how long he slept, but it must have been a while. He woke up, feeling oddly refreshed, cradled in a network of multiple tentacles that circled around him, binding his arms to his body, while caressing him, their pebbled, sticky tips connecting with the sensitive parts of his body here and there, sending multiple shivers of delight that he had forgotten was possible...

The events of last evening caught up with him, and the conflicting pieces of the puzzle combined together to form a coherent whole. Gellert wasn't dead. Gellert was an Animagus. It must have been Gellert who had sent Buckbeak after him.. and...

Gellert still loved him, after all these years.

And none of that mattered.

“Gellert,” Dumbledore said. “It's too late. I'm dying. And I need to die.”

Really? How do you feel?

Dumbledore frowned, and twisted slightly, straining against the agile limbs that held on to him with all of the Giant Squid's might. To his surprise, Dumbledore realized he felt no pain. His hand, which had been blackened by the curse, was now fine, whole, and healthy. Gellert continued to hold him, stroke him, and soothe him, working some sort of wandless, wordless magic on his body with every caress. Even his body felt somehow younger, agile and strong, awake with sensation, and wonderfully alert to everything around him.

“I feel fine. Better than fine, I feel alive and young...” Dumbledore muttered. “But...”

You are alive. You are young. Feel it. Believe it.

“I need to die.”

Incorrect, as usual. Death isn't necessary.

“I beg your pardon?”

I can hear you thinking, you know. I always could. It's simple. For as long as you're dead to the world, Severus Snape is safe. The Unbreakable Vow will not punish him, if both him and Bellatrix, the bonder of the Vow, believe you to be dead.

“What if somehow they find out? Then what?”

They won't. You're safe here. Relax, Albus, and trust me. Your big game is over. You've made your last jump. Don't be angry that I was there to catch you...

“I'm not angry,” Dumbledore murmured stretching out comfortably, and finally daring to truly relax. “Just surprised.”

The Giant Squid's tentacles let go of him, and he stretched out on the bottom of the lake and laughed, cheerfully and recklessly, hearing his own voice, distorted but recognizable, feeling his heels digging into the sand, the strands of underwater weed tangling between his bare toes...

Be surprised, then. But remember, the game is over. Debts paid, sacrifices made, promises fulfilled. There's no more war. All that's left now is life. Your own, and nobody else's.

Dumbledore smiled.

4.

Dumbledore looked up, seeing his hair, white and long, float upwards, swaying gently in the water currents, with tiny fish darting through the strands, each fish bearing small sparks of sunlight on their fins.

The Giant Squid moved again, spreading himself over Dumbledore, it's enormous form blocking out of the sunlight. The creature descended upon him, their bodies clinging together. The squid's flesh was pebbled in some places, and smooth in others, as well as silky, slippery, elastic – and tender. Moving fast, the tentacles freed Dumbledore of the rest of his clothing.

Two strong tentacles wrapped themselves around Dumbledore's wrists, pinning them to the sand with surprising force. One other tentacle made its way to his mouth, and Dumbledore licked it, and then sucked, feeling naughty and giddy like a teenager, enjoying the odd texture. The tip of the tentacle caressed his tongue, and Dumbledore moaned.

Other tentacles began to move, some pinching his nipples, some stroking and teasing his belly, encircling and binding his ankles, and still others making their way to the inside of his thighs, caressing and spreading them. One of the tentacles slid under his buttocks, the slippery tip tapping against the anal ring, seducing him into compliance before insinuating itself inside.

He moaned again, and twisted as much as being pinned down this way permitted him, finding himself lost, utterly lost... Gellert was playing his body like a musical instrument, teasing and igniting all parts of his body at once...

He groaned deeply at the sensation of being penetrated – and the wonderful, slippery length inside him found the sensitive nub of his prostate and began rubbing against it. Fire woke in the bottom of his belly, growing outwards, spreading throughout his groin.

One tentacle wrapped around his cock, pulling down the foreskin, teasing the oversensitive slit.

Pleasure was everywhere: the tip of his tongue, his wrists and ankles, his thighs, his aching erection, and inside, so deep inside that he cried out, abandoning all self-control.

He strained, shuddered, and upon feeling his orgasm approach he opened his eyes, meeting the intent gaze of the giant, differently sized orbs above him. The tentacles twitched slightly, and the truly unthinkable happened: suction cups on the tentacles in contact with him squeezed... squeezed his nipples, the tip of his tongue, the head of his cock, and even his prostate, making small, sucking, vibrating movements...

He climaxed suddenly, his semen pouring out, the milky streams rising up in the water, dissipating and disappearing without a trace.

The blinding orgasm took the rest of his strength. Exhausted, Dumbledore lay on his back, feeling the tentacles around him shift, curl, turn him onto his side, and hold him in place.

Tired?

“Yes,” Dumbledore confessed.

It's all right. You can rest now – for as long as you need. You're home.

The Giant Squid's tentacles wrapped even tighter around him, and Dumbledore shut his eyes once more, falling into the pleasant oblivion, and allowing sleep to claim him.

5.

Dumbledore's body struck against the cold ground and froze in an unnatural position, looking broken, limbs twisted out of shape.

He never felt the impact.

6.

When Snape, dishevelled and bloodied, showed up at the Malfoy Manor, he was welcomed with unrestrained enthusiasm, which he did not reciprocate. He did, however, permit Narcissa to heal the gruesome wounds – courtesy of Buckbeak – and drank two glasses of Firewhisky straight, without thanking her.

She fussed over him some more, and urged him to go to bed. Snape growled something unfriendly at her and knocked shoulders with Bellatrix before exiting the Manor.

Inhaling the chilly spring air, he sat down on one of the benches, and hugged his body with his arms.

Draco approached him a few minutes later, looking lost and uncertain.

Severus gave him a mirthless grin and stared away.

“I wanted to say thanks,” Draco whispered. “I thought I could do it... but... I couldn't.”

“Hmm.”

For a while they were both silent, each immersed in his own thoughts.

“Is it frightening?” Draco asked suddenly. “Killing someone, I mean.”

“Yes,” Severus said flatly. “Seeing someone's mind at the moment of that person's death is the most frightening thing you can experience.”

Draco's face twitched slightly, and it appeared that he was having second thoughts about serving the Dark Lord.

“What... kind of stuff to do people think about, just before they die?” Draco asked cautiously, uncertain.

Severus winced, shuddered, and hugged his body even tighter with his arms.

“Trust me,” he said softly, “you don't want to know.”

~fin