Disclaimer: I do not own HP. I repeat, I do NOT own HP. But, of course, you lot know this, right? If not, whack yourself repeatedly in the head with a blunt object until you do.

Serpens Erus Temptatio

"Serpent Lord's Temptation"

Chapter 6 – Can Anyone Tell

"Uncle?"

"Yes, Tris?"

"Do you like Miss Tatchya?"

Harry sputtered and sprayed his desk with coffee. Tristen blinked and mumbled, "Sorry."

Harry just stared at his godson.

"What prompted that question?"

"Well…you have been around her a lot. And you both seem to like each other."

"Have you been spying on me?" asked Harry, arching an eyebrow.

"No!" yelped Tristen. He then blushed and said, "Well…maybe a little."

"Tristen," growled Harry warningly. "What has your mother taught you…"

"Never eavesdrop," sighed Tristen. "But I didn't! I just…watched."

"And what has your mother told you about spying?"

"Never unless it's a good cause. Like Dad did…before."

Harry nodded slowly.

"A good lesson to remember."

"But I do think Miss Tatchya likes you, Uncle. She's been asking me questions about you."

"What sort of questions?" asked Harry, frowning at his coffee covered desk. He looked thoughtful for a moment then waved his hand over his desk. The coffee evaporated, leaving several sheets of parchment exceptionally crisp-looking.

Tristen frowned for a moment then replied, "Well…the first thing she ever asked me was what I thought of you."

"And what did you tell her?" asked Harry. He picked up one of the crisp-looking pieces of parchment and blinked when it crumbled in his hands. "Bollocks."

"That you were cool."

Harry grinned at his godson. "Just 'cool?' I thought I might rank a bit more than that."

"You do! I mean…well I didn't know what to say to her. I don't know what I think of you."

"Should I feel hurt or relieved?"

"Uncle!"

"Sorry, but you left that wide open."

Tristen scowled at him and Harry just laughed, reaching over his desk to ruffle his crop of dark hair.

"Sorry to say this, Tris, but you've got Mione's face. One of Sev's scowls does not sit well upon it."

"Thanks," grumped Tristen. He then said, "I'd better get back to my dorm."

"Hmm?" Harry glanced down at his watch and jumped. "Cripes. It's nearly midnight!"

"I noticed. Do you think…"

"Walk you back? Probably best. Mrs. Norris roams these corridors at night."

Tristen blinked as he followed his godfather out of his office.

"How do you know?"

"I like to walk at night. She sometimes walks with me."

"What? I thought she didn't like anyone but Filch…"

"We…have an arrangement of sorts, that cat and I. I keep her company and feed her sometimes whilst she prowls the corridors near the dungeons to make sure none of you young serpents have slithered out of your den."

Tristen laughed and said, "You're one to talk!"

Harry just grinned and said, "I, my boy, am the Lord of Serpents."

"So we little serpents have to obey you?"

"Of course."

"Yes, oh master. Command me, oh master. Your will is my bidding, oh master." Tristen bowed deeply several times, causing Harry to laugh cheerily.

"Scamp!"

Tristen just grinned and the two fell into step together, Harry's hand on the eleven-year-old's shoulder. When they reached the hidden doorway to the Slytherin dormitories (which was only identifiable by the snake-shaped torches on either side of it) Harry heard someone coming up the other end of the corridor.

"Who's that?" whispered Tristen.

"I have no idea," replied Harry. He turned his head slightly towards the entrance and spat something in Parseltongue. To his ire, one of the snake-shaped torches turned its iron head towards him and flicked out its tongue.

"Good eve, lord. What brings you to our domain?"

Harry whipped his head around to glare coldly at the snake and he spat, "Open up, you."

"Students may not enter after midnight. The door is locked."

"You are the door guardian. Open it."

The snake shook its head. "I cannot. The old Headmaster…"

"Open, serpent!" snapped Harry, causing Tristen to jump as the words came out in an angry hiss. "Or suffer my wrath."

"Very well, lord. Aspeth!"

The other snake lifted its head.

"What is it, Nafir?"

"An entry."

"There is no entry after midnight! You know that!"

Nafir spat, "The lord commands. We must obey. Headmaster's words are void to His."

Aspeth snaps, "The last lord died! This one must be an imposter." He looks at Harry and quivers. "Lord! Open! Open, Nafir!"

"That is what I told you, old fool!"

"Idiots," grumbled Harry in English, listening to the two snakes continue their arguing. As the wall slid open, blue wandlight began to glow from the corridor ahead of them.

"Uncle…" began Tristen.

"Go to bed," ordered Harry. "It's probably just a student out of bed." He gave the boy a gentle push inside then sharply ordered Aspeth and Nafir to close the door.

As soon as that was done, he stalked forward and threw himself around the corner. He called up a ball of white light and blinked as he saw Mischa standing there. Her dark hair was in disarray and her robes were torn in several places. There were odd bruises on her arms and one on her neck, all of which were smudged with dirt.

"Mischa?" he gasped. "What are you doing down here? I thought you were some wayward student."

Mischa shook her head and said, "I was…I was trying to get into the lower dungeons. But these – these spiders ran me out. I think one bit me…" She touched a spot on her left arm and winced.

"Let me see," murmured Harry, taking a step forward. He touch her arm in gentle fingers and motioned the ball of light downward so he could see. The bauble bounced in a small circle before coming to his call. Mischa stared at it as Harry probed at her wound.

"Ow!"

"Sorry." Harry ran his fingers over the bite, murmuring something under his breath. The wound darkened as black liquid began to seep out of it. Mischa saw it and shivered.

"What is it?"

"Poison," replied Harry. "Very slow acting. There shouldn't be any poisonous spiders down there…"

"You've been down there?"

"A few times. Come on. I have something in my rooms to fix this up with."

"It'll be fine," said Mischa.

Harry gave her a skeptical look and said, "You need bandages and a potion to stop the bleeding. I have both in my rooms."

"Ah," said Mischa, as he began to lead her back towards the stairs out of the dungeons. "Not only an expert at fighting the Dark Arts but a Healer and a Potion's Master as well."

"Now your being sarcastic."

"I am sometimes. Does it put you off?"

Harry snorted.

"'Put me off?' Please, Mischa. I've been exposed to sarcasm since I came to Hogwarts."

"Ah."

They continued up to Harry's rooms, where he tapped out an odd rhythm on the oak door. Mischa blinked and said, "Is that…Men at Work's Dr. Heckyll and Mr. Jive?"

Harry blinked at her and said, "You know it? Not even Sev recognizes it."

"My mother is half-Muggle. When I was little, she used to play them all of the time. I'm surprised you would know them."

"I have an odd taste in music," said Harry, pushing his door open and motioning Mischa inside. "My aunt and uncle had a stash of tapes in their attic. I found an old stereo with them and started listening to them."

"What were they?" asked Mischa, as she looked around his room.

Harry shrugged and began rummaging through one of his drawers.

"Oh, mostly eighties stuff. Men at Work, a few American hair bands, and – to my surprise – Black Sabbath."

"Why is that surprising?"

"You'd have to know my aunt and uncle," replied Harry solemnly as he walked over to a cupboard and opened one door. Mischa blinked at the number of stored potions.

"Are you expecting someone to attack you?"

"I learned a long time ago that it's good to be prepared," said Harry, plucked a small phial out of the cabinet. He then walked over to her and sat the phial, a roll of gauze, an almost depleted roll of Spell-o-tape, and a soft cloth. Kneeling down in front of her, he took her arm in gentle fingers and cleaned off the poison and blood with the cloth. Mischa hissed softly a few times but never said anything. Harry continued to clean the wound then he reached out and grabbed the phial off the table. He poured it over the wound and Mischa watched it awe as the potion pulled itself together and filled in the lines of the bite mark, instantly hardening.

"Amazing. Where did you learn to make that?"

"Sev," was Harry's simple reply as he began to slowly wrap the gauze about the bite mark. "Now, the potion'll allow it to heal and this will keep you from knocking any of it off." He cut the length of gauze with a murmured charm and secured it with the last of the Spell-o-tape.

"There," he said cheerfully. "All better." He turned to smile at Mischa and was surprised to find their faces very close together.

"Thank you," said Mischa softly, leaning in closer.

Harry could feel her breath on his face now. She smelt of…lilies.

"You're welcome," his murmured. "Mischa…"

Her lips brushed his and she whispered, "Harry…"

Then her lips met his in a fiery kiss.

Harry sank into it for a moment then he grabbed her upper arms and pushed her away. As she stared at him, looking very hurt, he breathed, "I can't, Mischa…I can't do this…"

"Why?" asked Mischa softly, reaching out to brush a lock of his hair behind his ear. "What happened to you? Why are you afraid?"

"I…I saw someone I loved die. She died in my arms."

"She?"

Harry nodded slowly.

"I'm sorry, Mischa. But I can't."

"You are afraid to get in a relationship lest you lose them. Is that right?"

"Get out," hissed Harry, standing hurriedly. "Now." He didn't want to answer that question.

Mischa rose and started to follow him.

"Harry, answer me…"

"Get out!" snapped Harry. His control over his magic slipped sideways and a wave of power flowed out from him. It nearly bowled Mischa over but she stood against it.

"Harry…"

Harry closed his eyes and whispered, "Please. Please, leave."

Mischa nodded slowly and said, "Alright. I will leave. Thank you for the bandages." Harry heard her boots cross the floor and winced as she slammed the door behind her.

"Oh God," he breathed, collapsing into the chair she had vacated. He rubbed his hands over his face and tried to make some sense out of the muddle his brain had become.

His lips still tingled from her kiss.

Medusa wandered out of his bedroom suddenly, a toy mouse clutched in her mouth. When she saw her master slouched in the chair, she dropped the mouse and leapt into his lap from halfway across the room.

"Mrow?"

"Hey, girl," sighed Harry. "I think I just made a mess of a good friendship. What do you think?"

Medusa tilted her head to the side and blinked at him.

"Mrow."

"Oh, you don't think so? Heh."

"Mrow," said Medusa, batting at her master's hand as she rolled over onto her back. Harry dipped his hand into the soft fur on her belly and was rewarded with a purr.

"I'm glad I can please someone tonight," he said tiredly.