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Resonant Dissonance	By : Ataraxia Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Snape Views: 3547 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own any part of the Harry Potter franchise and do not profit from this story.

Chapter List
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Chapter 3: Magic Wands

The snow continued to fall in thick clumps, piling on the windowsills and blanketing the drive in a lush cover of whiteness. Though it was painfully obvious to both men that neither of them would be going anywhere before morning, each cautiously avoided the subject of exactly where Severus was to spend the night.

Instead, they enjoyed the simple supper of spaghetti that Harry threw together, along with a couple of glasses of a rich, red wine that Harry proudly informed Severus was local. (Well, it was from the same province, though Severus argued that vineyards several hundred kilometres away hardly counted as “local” in his books. Harry had laughed and informed him that he’d have to modify his definition of “local” in a country so large that all of England and Scotland could be swallowed up in its lakes.)

The fire was stoked and re-stoked several times. The conversation, though sparse, was good; the silences, companionable. The wine appeared to be never-ending, though both men seemed to be taking precautions to not become too inebriated.

It took Severus by surprise when, late into the night, Harry grabbed him by the hand and gently hauled him off of the couch.

“I want to show you something,” Harry said, dragging his guest down the short hallway to where Severus nervously assumed the bedrooms were. Sure enough, on the right side of the hall was a small bedroom furnished with a large, oak bed and matching dresser.

But Harry did not pull him into that room; rather, they entered a door on their left.

Severus took in the room in quiet disbelief. “Another workshop?”

Harry smiled, dragging him into the centre of it. “I have many workshops for many types of work,” he informed him proudly. “The shop out back is for instruments, and the shop in here is for–”

“–batons,” Severus finished for him, eyeing the workbench covered in fine carpenter’s tools and roughly-hewn sticks of wood. At the end of the bench sat three glass display cases, each home to dozens of polished wood tapers.

Slowly, reverently, Severus approached the cases, and with a wave of encouragement from Harry, opened one of the glass doors. “I one day hope to be a conductor,” Severus admitted, carefully touching one of the smooth wooden shafts, “but I had no idea such a selection of batons existed.”

Harry’s mouth quirked in surprise. “Conductor? Really...” He trailed off as he watched Severus’ fingers hover over the batons, pausing over some of them longer than others.

“The wand chooses the wizard,” Harry informed him, smiling ruefully. “I read that in a book somewhere.” Opening the other two glass-fronted cabinets carefully, he shot Severus a smile that could almost be interpreted as shy, before indicating the batons. “Try them out,” he offered. Then, at Severus’ obvious reluctance, he smiled and added, “Please, I insist.”

Severus stared at the assortment of slender sticks in astonishment. There were several dozen of them ranging in length from twelve to eighteen inches, some a light, natural, varnished wood and some painted a bright white. They lay on black velvet shelves which complemented the various exotic wood handles. He reached out and gingerly plucked a baton from the display.

Harry nodded in satisfaction. “Fourteen inches, pear-shaped, zebrawood handle.” He watched intently as Severus laid it across his finger, right where the handle joined the shaft. The baton lay still across the pivot point and remained parallel to the ground.

“Perfect balance,” Severus mused, as if to himself. He took the baton in his right hand and gave it a few experimental swishes through the air. “It’s lovely.”

Behind his square-rimmed glasses, Harry’s brow furrowed. “Maybe, but it’s not right for you.” He took the baton from Severus’s fingers and placed it back in the case. Intent green eyes scanned the display case before resting on another wand.

Harry pressed the smooth bulb of the baton into Severus’ palm, his calloused fingers folding Severus’ gently over the wood handle. “Perfect fit,” Harry murmured.

Once again, Severus gave the baton an experimental swish. It cut the air like butter.

“Sixteen inches, much better for someone of your height. The tapered handle works best for long, delicate fingers.” Harry reached out and stilled Severus’ hand for a moment, tracing his thumb across the pale digits. “And the purpleheart wood looks rich against your skin.”

Severus watched in astonishment as Harry raised their joined hands to his mouth, tracing his lips across Severus’ flesh. “So beautiful,” Harry whispered, his breath warm against the cool skin of Severus’ fingers, which had started to tremble almost imperceptibly. Harry’s lips parted slightly and he drew the digits in farther, pressing his lips around them.

The baton clattered to the ground as Severus dragged Harry towards him, moaning softly. He pulled his hands away from Harry’s mouth to make room for his lips and tongue, twisting his now unoccupied fingers in that unkempt, black hair. The glass doors of the baton case rattled as Harry moaned into his open mouth and pulled Severus against him, causing the two men to slam back into the workbench.

Grunts and moans were drowned out by the sound of tools rolling off the table and hitting the concrete floor in a symphony of clatters, clinks and thuds. Severus pushed Harry further back onto the bench until he got the hint and pulled himself onto the work surface, his knees spread so Severus could stand between his legs.

“Fuck, I fucking dreamed about this,” Harry murmured breathlessly as Severus’ lips traced across the stubble on Harry’s jaw, nipping at his neck.

“You’ve known me a mere twelve hours,” Severus scoffed in a low whisper before taking Harry’s earlobe between his teeth.

Harry seemed to stiffen slightly underneath him before replying, “Oh, right. Just thought about sex on the bench. With a musician. Nobody specific.” The explanation was lost on a gasp as Severus’ hand reached up under Harry’s flannel shirt and began roughly pinching his nipple.

Wordlessly, the two stripped each other of their shirts and tossed them carelessly into the corner of the workshop. Severus began to fumble with the slide on Harry’s belt, inwardly cursing the man for not opting for a buckle that was easier to open with one hand.

Clearly sensing Severus’ distress, Harry lowered a hand to his belt and freed it easily, the metal buckle making a quiet swoosh as it slid over the rough canvas. He then turned his attention to Severus’ belt, which he undid singlehandedly, without a fumble. The button and zip on Severus’ pants was no more of a challenge, and before they knew it, both of them had their trousers pushed down their hips and their firm cocks exposed to the cool air.

Severus had to wonder if this workbench had been purpose-built for sexual escapades. It seemed almost too perfect that, when standing, his erection was perfectly lined up with Harry’s, who was still perched comfortably on the edge of the table. He reached down and gathered the two dripping cocks in his hand, wrapping his fingers around both of them.

Harry moaned as their precome-slicked erections were held in Severus’ firm grasp and slowly stroked up and down. Shaky with need, Harry blindly felt around behind him and grasped a bottle of mineral oil that he likely used to treat his finished batons. He fumbled to get the cap off and poured the clear oil into Severus’ pumping hand. The viscous liquid seeped between his fingers and around the swollen flesh of their cocks, allowing them to slide comfortably is his grip. Hot flesh rubbed against hot flesh and both men desperately sought release.

“How sturdy is this bench?” growled Severus, his voice thick with lust.

“Sturdy enough–” But Harry only managed to choke out half the reply before two hands shoved him back onto the surface of the workbench and Severus climbed on top of him.

Harry’s hot, firm body felt so good underneath him that Severus didn’t even notice the wood shavings and bits of debris that were digging into his knees. Instead, he could only focus on Harry’s swollen lips begging for more abuse, and the glasses that sat askew on his face. Severus groaned and bent down to suck the man’s neck, feeling Harry’s pulse quicken against his mouth as his work-worn hands twisted in Severus’ long, black hair.

The two rubbed against each other frantically, their oil-slicked cocks pressed between their bellies. Harry thrust his hips upwards, whimpering with need, every fibre of his being begging for more.

“Please,” he grunted, “pleasepleasepleasefuckplease…”

Severus would have smirked at Harry’s loss of control if he hadn’t have been so completely understanding of it himself. His own balls were tightening as their thrusts got more frantic; if this was going to extend beyond frotting, Severus had to go for it now or he’d never last. He rubbed his hand between their bodies, coating his fingers in the thick oil before sliding his digits between Harry’s taut buttocks.

A strangled cry escaped Harry’s throat as he threw his head back and spread his legs in anticipation.

Severus gently but firmly slid a finger through the tight entrance and smiled as he felt Harry push back against him, fucking himself on Severus’ hand. Encouraged, Severus slid in another finger.

Harry panted as the two fingers stroked him inside. “Holyfuck, holyfuck, holyfuck…” His back arched impossibly high off the table as he babbled. “I’m going to come!”

“Not yet you’re not,” Severus murmured in his most seductive voice. “Open your eyes and look at me as I slide my cock into your arse.” He withdrew his fingers from Harry’s body, causing the younger man to whimper at the sudden loss.

Harry’s eyes flickered open for a moment before slamming shut again as the head of Severus’ cock pressed eagerly against his arsehole. A guttural sound escaped Harry’s throat.

“Look at me.”

The impossibly green eyes opened and stared at him. They were glazed with pleasure, confusion and anticipation. Severus growled in satisfaction as Harry’s eyes flashed with want, and he pushed forward, penetrating the tight ring of muscle, sinking into the body below him.

“Good boy,” Severus murmured as Harry’s eyes locked obediently on his own.

Harry whimpered through gritted teeth and pushed back against Severus, who promptly lost his barely-maintained control.

His thrusts came fast and rough, each stroke earning him a whimper from Harry that was louder and more needful than the last. Severus watched in rapt fascination as his oil-slicked cock mercilessly pounded Harry’s body.

“Ohfuckohfuck... god, Severus, please–”

Harry’s thighs clenched around him as he came with a violent cry, spurting come on both of their chests. Severus grunted and stilled, his own orgasm flooding into Harry in a series of pulses.

“Holy shit,” Harry gasped, breathing hard as his lover collapsed on top of him. “Shit. No wonder you want to be a conductor.”

Severus smiled against Harry’s neck, delighting in the rough, firm hands that were now tracing circles on his sweaty back. “Why do you say that?”

Harry snorted. “Well, you certainly prefer to give instruction than take it, don’t you?”

“Not that I’d expect you to understand,” came the lazy, drawled reply, “but the conductor doesn’t actually give instruction, the composer does. The conductor merely... interprets it.”

The hands on his back stilled momentarily before resuming their circular worship of his skin.

“S’pose you’re right,” murmured Harry. “What do I know?”
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Resonant Dissonance