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 8 – Now Again

Riiiiiiiiiiiiiing!

"Read chapter 14 for next class and write me a one page report on werewolves!" bellowed Harry as his sixth year class hurriedly packed up their things. "Is that understood?"

"Yes, professor!" chorused several voices back to him and he smiled.

His smile quickly faded as he saw Mischa peeking into the room. It had been almost a month since that incident in his rooms and they had not talked during that time. A few pieces of small talk here and there but nothing about that night.

He suspected that was what she was appearing at his door for.

When the last of the students cleared away, the dark-haired woman entered, easing the door shut behind her. "Hello, Harry," she said softly.

"Mischa," said Harry with a short nod of his head.

"I was wondering if we could talk."

"About what?"

Mischa gave him a vague frown and replied, "I think you know."

Harry sat down behind his desk and straightened a stack of tests that he had given the 7th years early in the day. A stray quill caught his attention and he glared at it. The quill jumped up onto its nib and bounced over to the cup where two rather ratty looking quills resided.

"Elaborate," he said as he pushed the tests aside.

"The incident in your rooms," hissed Mischa. "Harry, please don't do this to me. Don't turn away."

Harry scowled up at her from underneath his dark hair and growled, "I have no need for a relationship."

"Everyone needs love, Harry! When was the last time you had that?"

"I have love!" exploded Harry, rising from his chair to tower over her. "There are several people out there in the world that love me!"

Mischa gave him a downcast look and softly said, "A woman's love?"

Harry's blood froze in his veins and his right hand began to tremble. He tightened it into a fist and looked down at his desk.

"Not in a very long time," he whispered. "I don't need it anymore."

"Bullshit!" snapped Mischa, causing him to stare at her. "Everyone needs someone to love."

Harry gave her a sorrowful look and said, "I lost the ability to love a long time ago. Good day, Mischa."

"But…"

"Good day, Miss Tatchya!"

Mischa scowled and cried, "You are the most…infuriating man that I have ever laid eyes upon!"

"I'm certain that is not true," said Harry, looking at one of the 7th year's tests. "Have you ever met Severus Snape?"

"No."

"He's more infuriating than me, I assure you."

Mischa growled and strode forward, snatching the test out of his hand. She then swept everything off of his desk with a sweep of her arm and jumped up onto it, crouching so their faces were close.

"You are an infuriating man," she said. "And it infuriates me that I am allured by you. It infuriates me that you hide behind that mask you put on for the world. How long have you hidden behind it, Harry? Years? Thirteen years?"

Harry could feel himself beginning to tremble again.

"Get out," he hissed, scowling at her.

"The eyes of a serpent do not scare me," hissed Mischa. "I played with poisonous serpents as a child and I have no fear for them. Especially not one that lacks fangs."

Harry snarled and lunged at her, causing her to lean backwards with a gasp. She wavered for a moment but remain balanced on the edge of his desk.

"For a snake that lacks fangs," he purred, "you seem to fear me."

"Fear is not the same as surprise," shot back Mischa. "Now answer my question. How long have you been hiding?"

Harry scowled at her.

"Get out."

"I shall not get out until I have an answer!"

"Then we shall we here for a very long time, my dear!" bellowed Harry.

"Fine!"

"Fine!"

The two of them glared at each other, neither backing down. From the doorway – unbeknownst to them – McGonagall watched them, a smile on her face. She shook her head and gently eased the door closed.

She dearly hoped that Mischa could break through Harry's walls. No one had as of yet and someone needed to.

"This is boring."

"You're the one that refused to leave."

"Well, if someone wasn't being such an ass."

Harry scowled at Mischa, who was perched on the edge of his desk, then returned to his reading.

"Oh," said Mischa, "ignoring me now, are we?"

"Yes," said Harry, turning a page.

"Well then I'll have to remedy that." With that she began to sing, softly at first then growing louder in volume. Harry scowled at her over the top of his book as she continued to belt out a song in what he assumed was her native language.

"Must you be so bothersome?" he yelled over her, not taking his eyes off his book.

"Yes!" replied Mischa, shifting about so she faced him. "I must be bothersome because you are infuriating!"

"Madam, I truly don't give a damn."

"Oh, its 'madam' now, is it? What happened to Mischa?"

"Very well," growled Harry, slamming his book down on his desk. "Mischa. Get the hell out of my classroom!"

"No!" yelled Mischa, glaring at him. Harry stood up, towering over her, and started to say something when the door creaked open. Two sets of angry eyes snapped towards the door and they bellowed as one, "WHAT?!"

There was a yelp from the other side of the door and it slammed shut. They could hear someone running away and looked at each other before they burst out laughing.

"Poor thing," said Mischa. "We probably scared some student out of their wits."

"That is very likely," said Harry, still chuckling. He shook his head and gave her an odd look from underneath his fringe of dark hair. Mischa noticed it and blinked at him.

"What?"

"You…you just remind me a little of someone I used to know. Your personalities were the same."

"Virginia?" said Mischa softly.

Harry turned eyes that were partially swirling black upon her.

"What was that?"

"Virginia," repeated Mischa. "Weasley. The girl who died in the last battle with Voldemort."

Harry looked at her for a long moment before he said, "Who told you about that?"

"Minerva."

"Of course," muttered Harry. He walked over to the only window in the room and looked down onto the grounds. His eyes strayed towards three gray dots that he could barely make out on a hill. "She would be the one."

"I don't understand…"

"Minerva McGonagall has taken me under her wing since I was fifteen years old," explained Harry. "She cares about my welfare more than anyone I know. Except perhaps Molly Weasley."

He leaned his head against the cool panes of the window and said, "Thirteen years ago, I was forced to watch the only person I had ever allowed myself to love die and then I had to kill my best friend – her brother. I have not loved anyone since."

"Harry," said Mischa, "choosing not to love is like choosing not to breath. It's killing yourself from the inside."

"You don't understand…"

"What?" exclaimed Mischa. She hopped down from his desk and moved to stand beside him, staring hard at his face. "What don't I understand? That you are so afraid to lose the people you love that you cut yourself off from love itself? If that's so, what about that boy? The Snape boy."

"Tristen has nothing to do with this."

"Oh but he does," said Mischa. "You love him, don't you? He means something to you."

Harry's head whipped up and he glared fiercely at her. He snarled, "The love I feel for my godson is not the same as what I felt for Ginny." He snapped his teeth shut over the words, 'And as I have begun to feel for you'.

"Harry, it is so close that the lines are almost blurred. You love him enough to protect him, to do anything for him – even kill."

Harry looked down at her for a long moment before he slowly nodded.

"That's the same sort of love a man and a woman share." Mischa felt tears prickle in the corner of her eyes as she added, "I love you, Harry. I want to know more about you. I want to spend the night in your arms. I want to be the only person in your life."

"That's just it," said Harry softly. "You wouldn't be. Ginny's still here." He touched the area above his heart. "I still love her. Even if…if we were together, you'd be sharing me with a ghost."

Mischa smiled and gently took the hand he held over his heart in her own. She brought it to her lips and gently planted a kiss on a sword-scarred knuckle. Cornflower eyes lifted up to meet emerald as she whispered, "I could share you with a ghost. You loved her. You still do. I understand that. Can't I love you too? Can't you love me?"

Harry looked down at her for a long moment before he reached out and drew her close against him. Mischa gasped as he bent his head and his lips trapped hers in a kiss full of fire. When Harry pulled back, his eyes were swirling a sort of gray-green.

"I can try," he whispered. "I can make the attempt."

Mischa smiled up at him and said, "That's all I ask."

Harry nodded and said, "I will try. I…I do feel for you, Mischa."

Mischa just smiled and hugged him, laying her head against his shoulder. Harry gingerly wrapped his arms around her, his cheek pillowed against her hair. The part of him that had died in the same moment as Ginny screamed in agony but the part that had lived on, that had grown up and had knelt in front of her grave…that part said that this was right.