Sirius Black in Olivander's Wand Shop with a Magical, Singing Dildo
Title: When the Snake's Away
Author: bonfoi
Character: Sirius Black
Location: Ollivander's Wand Shop
Object: Magical, singing dildo
Other Characters: Severus Snape
Rating: NC17
Warnings: Object Insertion; Dirty Talk/Dirty Thoughts; Established Relationship
Word Count: 3,023
Disclaimer: The world of Harry Potter, its characters and settings are the copyrighted works of J.K. Rowling, Warner Bros., her publishing companies and affiliates. No profit was made from the writing of this story nor was any malice intended in any way, shape or form to the author or the actors/actresses who so brilliantly have brought them to life.
This author is not responsible for underage readers. Please observe the ratings, warnings, and age of legal consent for your country.
Author's Notes: Sirius Black is bored. And, being who he is, resorts to a bit of mischief with an anniversary gift... with a sexy voice attached. Romance; AU; PWP; Post-War; Humor
Beta: passthebutter of LJ community, hp_betas
Spellotape used in addition to my three prompts, to make r_grayjoy happy!

His self-appointed keeper had been called away for a few days, taking both him and his magnificent wand, and leaving Sirius seriously at loose ends. Thinking that a jaunt into Londontown would relieve the boredom, he’d grabbed some Floo Powder and dashed it into the flames of his fireplace. "The Leaky Cauldron!" Sirius yelled as he threw himself into the green flames.

Bored out of his mind—although Snape would snark about just how much of that there was—Sirius Black, former resident of Beyond the Veil, prowled through Diagon Alley, looking for something to do. He’d said hello to Tom, the Leaky proprietor, conned him out of an 1876 Bordeaux—bottle, not just glass—and seeing some poor sod’s sandwich just sitting on a plate looking lonely, he’d wrapped it in a napkin and set off for an adventure. At least, that’s what he was hoping.

It was late, there were few people in the Alley proper, and he just wasn’t yet up to Knockturn Alley without Snape at his back. He found a bench just down from Ollivander’s Wand Shop and decided to enjoy his pilfered goods. Sirius worked the cork out of the slightly dusty bottle with his teeth, spitting it into his hand and then putting it into his pocket. Setting that aside, he unwrapped the sandwich, wrinkling his nose at the hint of mustard, but, resigning himself to the fact that thieves couldn’t always be choosers, he took a bite… not bad, roast beef on the rare side—just how he liked it—with cranberry chutney and some stoneground mustard between two slabs of rye bread. All in all, it was a good supper, mustard or not.

Unfortunately, he was still bored, and still in recovery from his time behind the Veil. The bordeaux—actually called Vino Rouge de Veritas, if he’d only looked at the label closer—was heady, perhaps a bit too much so for someone in his situation. By the time the sandwich was done, the wine was too, and Sirius Black was tipsy. Oh, not so you could notice it right away, but just enough to release the nonexistent inhibitions he had. He began looking for some way to burn off some boredom and then his eyes lit upon Ollivander’s.

All those years on the run had exposed him to a great variety of mischief, including a tutorial on picking locks—he grinned as he remembered the thief panting out his name as the lock on his cock ring was opened. Blinking his bleary eyes, Sirius pulled a thin wire from his coat and straightened it with a muttered spell, strengthening it at the same time. Squinting and glancing left then right, right then left again, he slinked across the pavement and into the shadows by Ollivander’s door. Listening with his whole body, he wriggled the thin wire into the keyhole, feeling it catch. Once that was done, he cast a filling charm to create the teeth of the key that would open it; the door snicked open with just a slight scraping of metal and then he was inside.

The place was deserted ever since the war. Old Ollivander had been a prisoner in the Dark Lord’s dungeons and after being released, he took off on a wand-core expedition. He’d be back some day, but for now, his shop was sitting dark and that’s just how Sirius liked it. Speaking of liking, he started summoning wands that bore some similarity to Snape’s, hoping against hope to find one to set the prize in his inside pocket to singing. Finally, he got a few notes with a 12-inch, Yew wood and Siren’s hair core, wand. Smirking to himself—eerily like Snape, if he’d only had a mirror to see it—Sirius moved deeper into the shadows, planning how to use the wand for his pleasure.

Wandering between the stacks, he finally found the back of the shop, or at least a door at the back of the large wand-room. He turned the handle and discovered

a cozy workroom with a cot. Smiling to himself, still insulated in the haze of good alcohol, Sirius stripped himself of all his clothes, laying his outer cloak on the bed for comfort. He then he laid himself down, Yew wand just under his neck and within easy reach, plumping the dusty pillow and coughing as the motes tried to suffocate him.

"Now," Sirius mused aloud, "let’s see if Severus was right." He pulled something from his inside pocket and enlarged it; under the winking candlelight it was easy to see that it was Severus Snape’s "personal wand"—in fact, it was an exact replica of the snarky Potions

Master’s cock, veins and glans rendered in such realistic detail that Sirius moaned at the sight of it. "Damn, I miss you, Sev," he whispered just before he began kissing and licking the dildo.

Slurping and humming, he touched himself as well, flicking a fingertip against his own cock head, swirling it around in the sticky pre-come only to glide over the throbbing, aching vein on its underside with a tremble in the digit. Leaning back and letting his knees flop open, exposing himself—if there was someone to see—he began to feather his fingers up and down his erection. He pulled at the leather straps of the cock ring choker tied at its base. Good thing he’d thought to put on that cock ring Severus had given as a one-month-anniversary present!

Sirius moaned wantonly around the phallic imitation in his mouth, scraping lightly with his teeth as he pulled at his own balls, mimicking what his lover of one month had done to him just the other night. His nails weren’t as polished as those of his lover and the slight nicks and jagged edges caught at his skin, curling his toes and speeding up his breathing. The tiny pinpoints of pain were a perfect balance to the warmth of his fingertips as they played along his skin flute.

Slowly, ever so slowly, he pushed at his perineum, stroking with the round of his fingertip. Still he suckled and even deepthroated Snape’s cock-wannabe, working himself up, almost forgetting why he’d been searching for a Yew wand in the first place. When his questing finger slipped and pushed into his rosy quoit, he yelped around the phallus and went still, the cock ring helping him ground his wayward thoughts.

He wanted to do to himself what Severus had done to him. He wanted to hear that syrupy rich voice oozing into his pores to finally come out of his prick when he exploded. He wanted to feel the slight left-hand twist that those long potion-stained fingers gave to his knob as they polished him to a high gloss. He wanted to scream around Snape’s member as those same fingers pried him open, revealing all his secrets and making them safe. He wanted to vibrate under the hands of a master, plucked and stretched to his greatest crescendo until he could only come crashing to the finale.

Sirius was panting by the time he got himself under control. The alcohol was still coursing through his veins, but it couldn’t be the only thing driving him, stirring his desires and passions. Popping the dildo out of his mouth, he put it between his legs and then brought them together, trapping it just under his ball sac and pressing into the skin that led to his ultimate destination. Reaching for the Yew wand, he flicked it once or twice, trying a Lumos and then a Nox, both of which worked as they should even if it was a bit slippery to cast the spells. It was close enough for Ministry work, as they said.

"Now," he muttered to himself in the near dark, "what was that spell Severus used? Sono pro meus gallo!" (1) Nothing happened except for a bunch of wands starting to cluck like a henhouse. Sirius stared at the Yew wand and tried to think clearly. "Cock…what the hell is Latin for cock? Phallus, right?" he mused aloud. Still nothing… but clucking wands. He cast Finite Incantatum and the noise abruptly stopped.

Stroking over his bound prick, Sirius wrinkled his forehead, squinted his eyes, and pondered aloud all the words he knew to call his member: "Prick, dick, phallus…that didn’t work… rod, staff, member, stiffy… yep, got that in one… willy, one-eyed-trouser-snake… love to hear Sev say that one… schlong… long dong… poet and I didn’t know it… love truncheon… ow, that’s hard… gherkin… I should say not; more like a cucumber… Cyclops…ooh, that might be closer…" He attempted the spell with ‘Cyclops’ but to no avail. "Damn, what other words are there for penis?" he grouched.

Smacking himself in the head, and narrowly missing his right eye with the Yew wand still in his hand, he repeated "PENIS!" at the top of his voice. Now to get the rest of the incantation in the right order. "Sono pro meus penis!" The dildo sang, vibrating with the humming power of Snape’s sensuous tenor.

"Sirius Black… so smooth… do you like it when I touch you with my tongue? Licking and sucking, nibbling ever so delicately on the pulse points hammering away for me?" Sirius held it over his heart, struggling to breath softly, so he wouldn’t miss a word.

"Mmm…the sounds you make… I want to bottle them, hide them away in my cabinet and take it out, shocking the swots who sit staring up at me with contempt. I want to show them how you give yourself to me, wanton and willing… oh so very willing." The dildo was rubbing from one straining hard nubbin of nipple to the other, in time with the words, making Sirius moan with need. His cock was so hard, he was willing to bet he’d pound spikes through the doors of Gringott’s with it if he didn’t seek his pleasure.

Suddenly, the timbre of the voice changed, the cadence falling into a song:

*LAST Night a Dream came into my Head,
Thou wert a fine white Loaf of Bread ;
Then if May Butter I cou'd be,
How I wou'd spread,
Oh ! how I wou'd spread my self on thee:*

Sirius’ hand slipped, pushing the dildo across his perineum, the vibrations of the lush voice setting off tingles of delight right down to his toes. The slight push of the phallus against his grasping quoit straightened his legs over the edges of the cot. He could feel himself going farther away from his lover’s voice. His hips lifted, seeking a solid body to push against.

* This Morning too my Thoughts ran hard,
That you were made a cool Tankard ;
Then cou'd I but a Lemon be,
How I wou'd squeese,
Oh ! how I wou'd squeese my Juice in thee.*

Writhing as he slowly pushed the singing dildo into his rippling channel, an inch for each line. At the end, on the last "e" of "thee," it was balls-deep inside him, vibrating him from the inside out. He’d never felt anything like it. Even as his eyes were rolling back in his head he wondered how to keep the dildo close enough to stay inside him.

* Lately when Fancy too did roam,
Thou wert my dear, a Honey-comb ;
And had I been a pretty Bee,
How I wou'd suck,
Oh ! how I wou'd creep, creep into thee :*

He ended the spell on the dildo, almost crying out at the loss of action. "Damn, damn, damn!" he cried out. He wanted to use both hands, to bring himself close to a shadow of what Snape had done to him, always does to him. Finally, he saw it, there on the corner of the workbench: Spellotape! Sirius whimpered out the summoning spell and it slapped into his hand. Somehow, he broke off strips of it and, criss-crossing them over his abdomen and buttocks, he formed a cradle for the dildo to push against—the first push forced it out then sucked it back in—he groaned at the feeling of being fucked by anything resembling Severus Snape.

He cast the spell again, almost choking as the words washed over him, thrumming along his very musculature.

* A Vision too I had of old,
That thou a Mortar wert of Gold ;
Then cou'd I but the Pestle be,
How I wou'd pound,
Oh ! how I wou'd pound my Spice in thee.*

Moaning out loud, he repeated the relevant words, "Pound… oh, fuck, pound me… pound that spice

into me… pound!" He rubbed his buttocks against his cloak, sliding back and forth on his own sweat. His hands—now free to roam—plucked at his ball sac, rolling the egg-shapes within between his fingers, sliding first one finger and then another over and around in an intricate pattern. When he could feel himself coming close, Sirius plucked the leather straps, pulling back yet again. Next, he worked his nipples, tugging with spit-wetted fingers, rolling the turgid flesh between his fingers, pinching harder and then softer, plucking them up to stand at stiff attention.

* Soon after Whims came in my Pate,
Thou wert a Pot of Chocolate ;
And cou'd I but the Rowler be,
How wou'd I rub,
Oh ! how wou'd I twirl, and froth up thee:*

"Nguh… oh, god, Se-ver… rus!" The words hissed out of the sexually strung-out wizard. "Why… why… oh, sing some more…" He flexed his muscles and tried to draw the dildo into his body, closer to his prostate, gaining an inch only to lose a mile. The sweat pooled in the divot at the base of his throat and the dip of his stomach. He had to use one hand to push it in, hard.

The action made him scream, his cock so purple and hot and rigid, that he began babbling unintelligible sounds that could have been words but no one would never know. The song still vibrated, now travelling through his prostate.

* But since all Dreams are vain my Dear,
Let now some solid Joy appear ;
My Soul still thine is prov'd to be, let body now,
Let Body now with Soul agree. *

As the last note of "agree" faded, Sirius pulled the leather straps to loosen the cock ring. "GUH!" He came like a fountain, starting from the soles of his feet, curling his toes, causing his calves to clench hard. The rest of his body bowed up in a rictus of frozen ecstasy, silent as his essence literally exploded out to paint the room. Tremors chased up and down his now sober—and sated—body as he slowly drifted down towards normalcy.

Barely able to lift his hand to find the Yew wand, Sirius still had his beloved’s song zinging along his nerves, pushing into a cloud of pleasure-pain that only served to remind him of Severus. Finally… finally, he found the wand and finished the spell, legs akimbo and arms flopped over his chest, Yew wand laid over his heart.

"I see you found my gift to your liking, Black." Severus Snape stepped out of the shadows, long, lean and very turned on. He nudged the satiated man on the cot with his wand only to receive a bleary-eyed look and a mumbled, "F’k off…."


Casting spells to right things, Snape smiled softly at the man who incongruously held his heart. "You do realize you’re the first person to hear me sing outside of the shower, don’t you?" He didn’t expect an answer, but, the smile on his lover’s face was good enough. "Sleep it off, Sirius. I promise to sing to you again, in person." He enlarged the cot and conjured a duvet from his own cloak, insulating them in the dark of Ollivander’s Wand Shop workroom.


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~~~ Comments, like rain in the desert, are greatly appreciated.

Thank you for reading. ~~~

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Prompts: Sirius Black in Ollivander’s Wand Shop with a magical singing dildo. Extra: Spellotape

See Sex-Lexis entry for penis synonyms.

Sono pro meus gallo: Sing for my cock. Translation from this site.

Sono pro meus penis: Sing for my penis. Translation from this site.

* The Comical Dreamer From Thomas D'Urfey's Wit and Mirth, or Pills to purge Melancholy (published between 1698 and 1720) set to music by Jeff Lee

LAST Night a Dream came into my Head,
Thou wert a fine white Loaf of Bread ;
Then if May Butter I cou'd be,
How I wou'd spread,
Oh ! how I wou'd spread my self on thee:
This Morning too my Thoughts ran hard,
That you were made a cool Tankard ;
Then cou'd I but a Lemon be,
How I wou'd squeese,
Oh ! how I wou'd squeese my Juice in thee.

Lately when Fancy too did roam,
Thou wert my dear, a Honey-comb ;
And had I been a pretty Bee,
How I wou'd suck,
Oh ! how I wou'd creep, creep into thee :
A Vision too I had of old,
That thou a Mortar wert of Gold ;
Then cou'd I but the Pestle be,
How I wou'd pound,
Oh ! how I wou'd pound my Spice in thee.

Once too my Dream did Humour take,
Thou wert a bowl of Hefford's Rack ;
Z----- cou'd I then the Ladle be,
How wou'd I pour,
Oh ! how wou'd I pour out Joys from thee.
Another time by Charm divine,
I dreamt thou wert an Orchard fine ;
Then cou'd I but thy Farmer be,
How I wou'd plant,
Oh ! how I wou'd plant my Fruit in thee.

Soon after Whims came in my Pate,
Thou wert a Pot of Chocolate ;
And cou'd I but the Rowler be,
How wou'd I rub,
Oh ! how wou'd I twirl, and froth up thee :
But since all Dreams are vain my Dear,
Let now some solid Joy appear ;
My Soul still thine is prov'd to be, let body now,
Let Body now with Soul agree.