Two chapters today as a Thanksgiving present from me.



Chapter 29

Too Many Questions

"Okay, are you ready? Are you thinking of the address?" Harry was facing Cassie and she was smiling as she looked down at the paper with the address.

She nodded and then looked at Harry expectantly, "Now do we get to kiss?"

"Yes, and I think it should be a very long, enjoyable kiss." Her eyes sparkled in response to his teasing.

Cassie stepped in closer to Harry and he bent to meet her upturned face. She always felt so good against him. He could have just held her for a very long time. He let his eyes drift closed for a minute, savoring the feel of her mouth against his. Her arms were trapped between them and she let them slowly slide up around his neck. He could feel the rasp of the parchment she still clutched in her hand against his skin. As they kissed, the quiet pop behind Cassie assured Harry the house had indeed appeared, right on schedule. Harry reluctantly moved back from Cassie. This was a most vulnerable moment. He had to get her into the house quickly so that he could make the house disappear again. Her eyes opened as he grabbed her hand and pulled her quickly to the steps. "Come on. We've got to get inside."

As Harry had expected, he was not able to make a quiet entrance. "Her again!" Harry frantically placed his hand over the doorbell to muffle the sound, but it did very little good. "Why is she back? I don't think Dumbledore would like this." Cassie was looking around the steps with an odd expression, clutching Harry's arm with a slightly nervous grasp. The door had not opened yet, and Harry frantically looked up and down the street to make sure no one else was looking out windows or doors.

"Sir Cadogan. Hurry up." The doorbell hadn't even asked for the password yet, but Harry knew they couldn't afford to stand outside for very long. He raised his voice slightly, hoping that Cassie did not think he was completely nutters. "We shouldn't be out here in the open like this so open the door now."

The door opened but only a sliver (as though the doorbell begrudged the fact that he had to open it at all) and Harry pushed firmly against it, stepping in first and then helping Cassie into the entrance hall. He stepped up to the door again, slamming it shut. Not, however, before both he and undoubtedly Cassie could clearly hear the words "You need to be more careful. What's the purpose of a Fidel . . . ." He fastened all of the locks quickly, sighing with relief as the last bolt slid home. Then he turned to his guest.

"All right . . . .That was a little strange." She looked confused but not angry and Harry was grateful for that.

"Yeah, well. . . . my life is a little strange. I'm surprised you haven't figured that out yet." Harry tried to interject a little humor into what felt to him like a very serious moment. She smiled, but faintly, and he knew that his effort had failed. He tried to think how he could explain a little but not really tell her anything. His mind, however, refused to cooperate. Usually, he was quick to think up ways to tell half truths. It was a skill he had honed to near perfection at school with his professors but it completely deserted him now. He waited for the blade to fall. What was she going to ask?

It wasn't a question. It was a statement. "Your house . . . .doesn't want me here." Harry thought that this was a fairly astute observation.

"It's not so much that . . . . Um, . . . .Alright. Let's go sit down, okay?" Harry decided that he owed her a little bit of an explanation, at least. His mind was spinning like he was using floo powder and his stomach felt like he had just swallowed a snitch. He dragged out his routine tasks: wand on the table, parchment folded next to it, wallet placed on parchment, quick trip to the bedroom to make sure that Sir Lionel was still snoring. Finally, when there was nothing else to be done, he stepped into the small living room where she was already sitting on the couch, looking at him. Harry tried to read her expression, but he couldn't. He sat down by her, his legs not quite touching hers, and reached for her hand, holding it in both of his.

"As you know, Cassie, I'm . . . in danger. There are people out to hurt me if they can find me." That was true. So far so good. "I'm hiding, basically. And . . . this house is, uh, how I hide. I really can't explain it any better than that."

"But that doesn't make any sense." Harry could see that behind the clear blue eyes, a shadow had formed. He hated it, but he didn't know how he could make it any better. "I still don't know who's chasing you and why. And for some reason your house hates me." Her voice had risen quite distinctly at the end of that sentence and Harry heard quiet anger behind her words.

"Hate is a little bit strong of a word, Cassie."

"Fine, then. It dislikes me strongly. Is that better, Harry? Does that change anything? I think you're just arguing semantics now." Harry had to agree. It was the sure sign of a dead-end argument.

"You're right, Cassie. That was a stupid thing to say. The point is, . . . . Well, the point is, that you said you understood about secrets and everything, and then you said that . . . ." He couldn't say it. He just couldn't bring himself to have to remind her of those wonderful words she had said to him that night at the cinema. She had said she would take what she could get. That she wanted to be with him. That she liked him, secrets and all. "Maybe you've changed your mind, Cassie?"

"Changed my mind about what?" She stood up and walked away from him, staring out the front window at the street. There was tension in every line of her body.

"About. . . ." He couldn't say it. He just couldn't. But he had to. "You said that as long as I didn't lie to you that you would understand if I couldn't tell you things." There was a long moment of silence.

"Yes. I did. Didn't I?" She turned around and looked at him. He forced himself to meet her eyes. "I just didn't expect . . . . Well. I don't know what I expected. Just, not this!" She indicated the front door with her hand, and Harry felt the exasperation suddenly leave her. "I guess I'm being a little stupid, aren't I?" There was another long pause. Harry said nothing. Then, finally, "I meant what I said, Harry. Are you lying to me now?"

"No."

"Well then, I guess I just really . . ." She quieted, biting her lower lip as she thought hard about the situation.

"Cassie." He was surprised at how thick his voice sounded. He cleared his throat. "Cassie. I want you here, very badly. Please stay. Don't be angry about the stupid door. It's not important." He let his voice change to a lighter tone. " Besides, you owe me a game of chess. You promised that we could play today." Somehow, those words evaporated most of the tension in the room and she laughed, quietly but sincerely and Harry felt the little snitch in his stomach quiet down. It was going to be okay. For now.

"Oh, that's it, isn't it? You just want to beat me badly to make up for the other night and the night before that." He stood up and walked over to her. He put his arms around her tentatively. She leaned into him the way that he liked so much. And he kissed her then. Beating her at chess moved to the back of his mind for quite a long time.



When they finally did get around to playing chess, Cassie learned quickly and Harry found the game very enjoyable. He loved playing wizard chess even though he almost always lost. Sometimes Ginny and he teamed up against Ron and then he could win. Hermione was fairly hopeless and when he and she teamed up, they usually lost worse than when it was just Harry. Added to that was the fact that his pieces didn't respect him and constantly argued with him when he went to make a move. But he decided, after a while of playing regular Muggle chess against Cassie, some of their harping must have rubbed off. He was making some good moves and he did not think it was just because she was so inexperienced. He beat her thoroughly very quickly in the first game and she was willing to play a second. She was, he had to admit, a very good sport. She seemed eager to learn and made some good strategic defensive moves a few times. He did get her into checkmate, though, by tricking her into paying attention to some other pieces on the board while he moved in for the kill.

"Chess is primarily a game of strategy, Cassie." Harry explained this as she questioned how he had managed to do this without her noticing. "A good player will draw your attention away from the pieces he really is using to win. That way, you are worrying about things that have nothing to do with the actual endgame. And, before you know it, you're in checkmate. You have to consider all the options. Never move rashly. That gets you into trouble every time."

"Maybe we can play again later, Harry. My head feels like it's going to explode with too many deep thoughts." She was sitting on the floor by his feet as he put away the board and pieces. The coffee table had proved to be a good playing surface although Harry thought maybe next time they would play in the kitchen where they could sit in chairs rather than on the floor. His back hurt a bit. Then suddenly, "I'm starving. I thought that you were going to feed me at some point."

Harry was amazed when he looked at the clock and realized it was 12:30. The time he had spent with her today had simply flown by. Of course it always did. He enjoyed being with her so much that time passed unmarked. He stood up, carrying the chess set over to the desk. "I didn't really plan anything fancy. I just thought we could have sandwiches."

"That sounds good. Do you have wheat bread?"

"You are obsessed, Cassie. Absolutely obsessed. Yes, I have wheat bread. I got it just for you."

They laughed a lot over the next half hour as they assembled their respective sandwiches. Harry kept trying to slip more mayonnaise onto her bread and she kept trying to remove the cheese he was insisting on slicing for his sandwich. She liked mustard. He didn't. He liked pickles. She didn't. He pulled out a bag of crisps, half expecting to get yelled at for it. But she just grinned guiltily and grabbed a handful to put on her plate. He raised an eyebrow with a silent question which she pretended she had not caught. "My favorite,"she muttered a few minutes later as she bit into her first salt and vinegar crisp. "You are a wicked person. I could have resisted anything else you bought." Harry didn't answer, just letting the other eyebrow join its partner, trying very hard not to burst out laughing. They also had fruit salad from a can to round out the meal. Harry finished his food first even though his sandwich had been much bigger than Cassie's to start with. She ate carefully, chewing each bite and finishing one food before moving to another. Harry leaned back in his chair and watched her, enjoying the way she looked in his kitchen. She was wearing khaki shorts and a dark blue shirt that really brought out the color of her eyes. Her blond hair was pulled back into a pony tail, and, as usual, her makeup was subtle.

Cassie felt his eyes on her and flushed a light pink under his scrutiny. "What? Do I have something on my face?"

"No." He didn't elaborate. She flushed a deeper shade of pink, wiping self consciously at her face after a minute.

"What? Am I doing something wrong?"

"No." This was fun. He was enjoying seeing her try to figure out what he was looking at. After another minute of his careful scrutiny, she stood up suddenly and came over to his side of the table.

"Harry James Evans. Stop staring at me." Then she bent down and kissed him. Yeah, that did it. His eyes closed during the kiss and he lost all interest in teasing her. She finished her lunch quickly after that and Harry started cleaning up the few dishes they had dirtied.

"So, what did you want to do this afternoon, Cassie?" Harry was used to one game of chess with Ron taking several hours and had not thought of any alternate activities for afterward. He hoped that she did not want to go home yet. He wasn't ready to say good-bye.

"Well, Harry. I have to say that we bought that VCR for you and I went to all the trouble to come over here and hook it up for you and you haven't used it once."

"Oh, well . . . ." Harry felt terrible. He had full intentions of using it but hadn't had a chance to stop by and pick any movies up. He thought that it would probably take him a while to decide on a movie and he just had been spending all of his time with a certain blonde girl who distracted him quite a lot. "I just . . . ." He sincerely hoped that she did not want to go out and get movies this afternoon. Going through the whole process of getting into his house again today was just going to be too much trouble. He was prepared to tell her this when she shocked him.

"I brought a movie that I really love and I thought you would like also." Harry was very surprised. That was about the last thing he expected her to say.

"What is it?"

"It's about dragons." Harry felt all the color drain out of his face. Dragons. He hated dragons. What had made her think that he would like a movie about them? She continued, not noticing his expression. "You seem to like that kind of old-fashioned stuff. This is kind of an old-fashioned movie. You know, knights and dragons and evil princes and all that sort of stuff." She pulled it out of her bag. "It's called Dragonheart."

"Oh." Harry blinked. Okay. If she thought so. How bad could it be? She found the remote and the batteries he had bought which he never had bothered to take out of the package. She tried out the remote by turning the power on to the VCR and Harry was pleased that it actually worked. She walked over to the television and slipped the movie in.

"I hope you like it. It's very good, I think." Without talking much about it, they settled themselves on the couch in a position that Harry found exceedingly comfortable. He was leaning back against one of the arm rests, facing the television, his left leg stretching along the length of the couch, his right foot on the floor. Cassie was sitting against him in the natural V formed by his position, her back against his chest, both her legs stretched out next to his left one. His arms were around her waist, his chin resting on the top of her head. She smelled nice, but something was different.

"Your hair smells different." She turned her face back toward him.

"What?"

Harry blushed bright red. He really hadn't meant to say that. The fresh-sunshine smell of her hair was one of the things he loved about her, but he had never told her that. "Um, your hair usually . . . ." He really didn't know how to describe what he wanted to say. "I mean, usually it smells kind of, uh, outdoorsy."

"Oh.." Cassie flushed a little, too. "I had to use a different shampoo than usual today."

"I like it, but I think I like the other better." Harry couldn't believe he had just said that. What shampoo she used really wasn't any of his business. She didn't complain, though. She just smiled and snuggled closer against Harry's chest. His arms tightened around her for a brief moment.

The movie started but after about 20 minutes, Harry lost all interest in it. He tried very hard to think back to his pre-wizarding days -- the days when he thought he was just an average boy whose parents had been killed in an auto accident. Did he think dragons were all noble and good and brave? Did he think they were friendly? He didn't remember. He knew better now, anyway. He said nothing, of course, because Cassie seemed to really be enjoying it, gasping at the exciting parts and muttering comments about how brave everyone was. So instead of watching the movie and laughing out loud at the ridiculous portrayal of dragons, he watched her. She constantly surprised him. Just when he thought he had figured her out, she surprised him again, today being a good example of that. He relaxed and enjoyed this time of holding her. Halfway through the movie, though, he decided that he had better get up. He was starting to fall asleep.

"Uh, Cassie. I think I'll make us some popcorn and get something to drink. Any preferences?"

"Do you have any of the biscuits left over from yesterday?"

"Of course. Did you think I could have eaten all two dozen by myself overnight?" She didn't answer and he went into the kitchen. It took about twenty minutes to get everything ready. By then, he missed her and decided that it would be faster if he carried everything out at once. He was anxious to sit back down behind her and hold her. He carefully balanced the popcorn bowl and the plate of biscuits in one hand, holding the two glasses of soda in the other hand, walking across the hall. Just as he arrived, Cassie made a comment as some dramatic moment happened in the movie.

"Oh, Harry. Isn't he wonderful? He is so willing to sacrifice himself for . . ."

Harry snorted, trying hard not to laugh. He might drop something. Darn, it was starting to slip now quite badly. He shifted his arms, paying close attention to the plate as it was trying to slide off again. "Dragons are just not that noble. Let me tell you. They're mean and nasty. And they don't talk - they especially don't speak English." He reached the table without major mishap and put down his burden. He straightened and met her wide blue eyes. Oh. No. Had he just said that? Out loud? To her? His eyes widened and met hers. He needed to start bluffing and bluffing fast.

"Harry, when you say things like that, I don't know whether to laugh or be very scared."

He forced out a laugh and even to his ears it sounded meager and forced - heh, heh . . . heh, heh... After a second, he stopped. Somehow that made it worse.

"All right, then. I vote for very very scared." She let the subject drop for the and turned back to the movie, leaning forward so he could slide back behind her. Once he was settled, he reached over and pulled the bowl of popcorn onto her lap.

He said nothing. She did not bring the subject up again. But somehow, he knew she had not forgotten the comment. He munched the popcorn mechanically, watching the end of the movie, almost dreading to see what happened at the end. It was as bad as he feared. When the dragon died and went to be with his other dragon ancestors in the stars, Harry practically choked on his mouthful of soda. The constellation of dragon stars was called, of course, Draco. What a reminder!!! Could he never get away from that name? In his arms, Cassie sighed, a deep romantic sort of sigh, and leaned back against his chest. Obviously, she had loved the movie and had been able to discount his stupid comments about it. He rolled his eyes above her head and tightened his arms around her waist. She stopped the movie and started rewinding it with the remote. Then she straightened up from him and stood up. "Well, I guess I better get ready to go, Harry. I told my mum I'd be home early today. I think she's a little nervous about . . . . uh, about . . . She needs help with something." Harry was curious what Cassie's mum was nervous about. He asked but Cassie ignored the question, saying that she had to go into the bathroom to wash up because her hands were all greasy from the popcorn. Harry let her go, stepping in to the kitchen to put the leftovers away and tidy up a little. About a second later, he heard her call him. She sounded worried.

Harry stepped into the hall just as she emerged from the door to the bathroom. "Harry. There's . . . In your room. It . . . . Well, it sounds like someone is calling your name."

"What? There's no one . . . ." Oh, no. Not now. Not right now. Sir Lionel. Harry gasped and strode past Cassie. "Hang on. Let me see." He opened his bedroom door just enough to slide in and then he firmly shut it and locked it behind him. Sure enough. Sir Lionel, still facing the wall, was calling his name loudly.

Harry strode over to the painting quickly, flipping it over. "Quiet, Sir Lionel. Quiet! Do you have to yell?"

The knight pulled himself up to his full height in the painting and straightened his hat. "I must say. I find myself suddenly facing a blank wall. No idea where I am. No idea where you are. Important message to deliver. What else shall I do but call to you?"

"Sorry, Sir Lionel. I checked on you a while ago. I thought you were still asleep." Harry groaned to himself. Did this have to happen now? Harry considered telling Lionel that he would talk to him later but he had said that there was an important message. Maybe he would be quick. "What's going on, then?"

"Dumbledore has a message he wishes me to convey." Oh, for heaven's sake. Of course Dumbledore had a message. Why else would he have sent Sir Lionel? Okay. Okay. Deep breaths. Harry smiled encouragingly hoping that the knight would say his little bit and leave again.

"Dumbledore wishes me to tell you that if you should hear any rumors from the wizarding world you should not worry. Everything is going as planned and Dumbledore will soon be sending for you." Sir Lionel again cleared his throat importantly and announced, "That is all."

Harry couldn't believe his ears. He had said absolutely nothing new. He had risked Cassie finding out about Sir Lionel just to be told to ignore any rumors from the wizarding world? And that made no sense, anyway. "How," Harry asked, trying hard to keep his voice even, "would I hear any rumors from the wizarding world when I am surrounded by Muggles and can only get Muggle news? It's not like I'm getting owls from all my friends, you know." This whole thing had just been a big waste of time.

"Well now," Lionel looked uncomfortable and fidgeted a little, "I really don't know, do I? I just tell you what I'm told. But I guess Dumbledore thought you might have ways of hearing gossip from witches and wizards here in London." Harry shook his head -- obviously Lionel did not have a clue how completely isolated he had to keep himself. Maybe Dumbledore had not told him. The knight continued. "I do know he seemed quite concerned you should not worry. But in fact, I really don't know why he didn't want you to know . . . since you have already sent messages to him about the Ministry."

Harry looked at Sir Lionel more carefully and asked, "What about the Ministry?"

"Well," Lionel began conspiratorially, "I've heard from some of the other paintings that everything is in complete chaos at the Ministry of Magic. Cornelius Fudge is frightened. All the signs indicate the Ministry will be attacked any day by Voldemort and his Death Eaters. He feels like Voldemort will be trying to kill him personally. Fudge has all of the Aurors on twenty-four hour shifts guarding the place. It's basically locked down. They have even gone so far as to charm all of the frames around paintings at the Ministry buildings so no one can go in and out of their pictures. That's how I have come to know of it. There are lots of the old headmasters that are quite put out at being stuck in only one frame. Dumbledore is having to keep their spirits up as best he can. "

Now that was interesting information. Not about the paintings, but about Fudge being so worried. And, of course, as usual Dumbledore was trying to protect him from bad news. Harry hoped that one day people would judge him old enough to be told the truth to begin with. But no matter, it was significant to hear that the Ministry was in such a state of turmoil and the Aurors were preparing to be attacked. He could only imagine how Fudge was taking it all. He had been so unwilling to believe that Voldemort was back the year before but now saw him around every corner. Harry almost smiled at the thought but the seriousness of the situation kept him from doing so. He sat silently for a minute, trying to think what all this could mean for him.

Suddenly, he jumped. There was a knock at the door. Harry had completely forgotten about Cassie. He couldn't believe it. Then she called out to him, her voice sounding slightly nervous through the barrier. "Are you all right in there? Harry? What's going on? Please open the door."

Sir Lionel turned toward the door. "Who is that?"

"No one." Harry almost screamed in frustration It was sure to get back to Dumbledore that he had someone in the house with him if he made a big deal about it. He wasn't sure what Dumbledore would do, and he really, really did not want to find out. He tried to look casual.

Sir Lionel smiled broadly. "I'm glad you've met a friend. I understand completely. I was young once . . . several centuries ago. I remember one time, there was this really lovely young witch who came out to see . . . ." Harry stood, and resolutely flipped the painting back around toward the wall. Sir Lionel was still muttering, but it was harder to hear. There really wasn't much to be done, now, to fix things.

Harry waited a moment, taking a deep breath to calm himself, and then he opened the door and slipped out into the hall where Cassie was waiting. He shut the door behind him, grabbed her arm, and steered her out into the living room again. The look on her face was rather difficult to describe. She was concerned, obviously, but she seemed angry about something, also.

"What's going on, Harry? Who's in there?" She was talking quite loudly and Harry was sure that if Sir Lionel hadn't already left to go pass on the news to Dumbledore, he would hear her. Great. Could things be going any worse?

"No one." Stupid answer. It hadn't worked for Sir Lionel and it certainly did not work for Cassie. Her eyes narrowed in that way that Harry knew meant she was upset and he steeled himself for a tirade.

"So you were in there just talking to yourself - in two different voices? I distinctly heard someone else in there. So don't lie to me. Tell me who it was." Harry gulped. He had absolutely no idea how he was going to get out of this.