The Lies Behind Mine

by Xianna

Chapter Two The Escape

AN - HPFan42 pointed out that they are Unspeakables and not Untouchables. Thank you HPFan42. I will fix that with the next update, but forgot to do that with this one. Also, sorry this chapter was so long in coming. Real life and all that shit. You know how it goes. Now, on with the show!

Hillary, Patrick and I were hanging out in the Shrieking Shack. It was our official meeting place, but we'd also adopted it as a place to hang out. It was really the only place we could relax together, since 'Grace' was in Gryfendor and 'Aaron' was in Slytherin and as it had been for hundreds of years, the houses were badly divided. As Helen the Hufflepuff I could have conceivably socialized with either of them, if Helen were the type to socialize at all. But only here could all three of us, Ravenclaws at heart, talk in relative comfort.

We'd already covered official business. We each received owls with coded orders, but it was still better to meet and compare notes rather than work independently. Besides, they were my only real friends in the school. Any of the Hufflepuffs I talked to were Helen's friends, and hard as it was becoming to do, I liked to think of her as separate from myself. As if she were a role I were playing.

Besides that, it was November 21st, Hillary's 12th birthday. To simplify things, it was Grace's birthday, too, and thanks to the time-turned she was simultaneously attending a party in her dorm room in Gryfendor tower, but Patrick and I had managed to get her favorite dessert from the house elves and held our own little party in the Shack.

Hillary was a precocious child, still gangly from a recent growth-spurt and with blue eyes and strawberry blond hair and a ready, open smile that made people instantly adore her. Patrick was almost the opposite; tall but well muscled with black hair and dark green eyes and face that far too many girls fell for, despite the almost constant brooding look. Neither of them were metamorphagi, and rather than depend on easily detected charms and spells, they had decided to remain themselves, sometimes wearing wigs or makeup to do their work.

"That was really good, guys, but now I'll never be able to eat Renee's cake." Hillary giggled as she patted her stomach. Rather than use her time turner to return to the meeting, she was planing to use hers to return to her party and so hadn't eaten yet.

"Glad you liked it," Patrick told her, smiling now that he didn't have to keep up the disaffected rich-boy look.

"So, do you two have dates to the Yule Ball yet?"

Patrick grimaced. "Pansy's been trying to get me to ask her."

I shot up from where I'd been lounging, almost laying, on a cushion on the floor. "You can't do that!"

Hillary giggled again. "Why? You want him to ask you, Sue?"

I managed to hide a blush. We hadn't told Hillary, or anyone else, but Patrick and I had started...not dating. Perhaps 'exploring' was a better word. But that didn't trick me into thinking I had any rights to his affection. "No, I don't want to with him. But Pansy is that prick Draco's girlfriend." I turned back to Patrick. "Don't you dare do anything to screw with that guy; we still haven't found his dad yet."

Patrick brushed away my concern with a wave of his hand. "I know that; I'm not an idiot. Besides, Pansy kind of scares me."

"Scares you?"

"She's stalking me. She stole my Potions book and tried to put a charm on it. She even tried to follow me into the bathroom once."

If Patrick was looking for sympathy, he shouldn't have told us. Hillary and I both burst out laughing. He glowered and taught us a few new curse words.

"Who did you go with last year?" Hillary asked me once we'd both calmed down.

"No one. I didn't come until after winter break. And I probably won't even go to this one. It's a stupid idea, anyway. There wasn't any Yule Ball before the Tournament, why'd they have to keep it?"

The truth was, I actually agreed with Dumbledor's decision to hold the ball again. With Voldemort's Death Eaters on the loose, not many parents wanted their children to leave the relative safety of Hogwarts. And with the tension that had been building since that summer, many of the faculty though a party would be a good chance for the students to forget that for a while and relax. Thus, the Yule Ball had made a comeback and replaced the normal, small Christmas Dinner. But I didn't have a date. Helen had done too good a job of blending in, and no one had asked me to go. And while I would have liked to go with Patrick, or even 'Aaron,' it wasn't good for either of our covers.

Besides, Mr. Winders had never taught me how to dance. I knew more charms and curses and hexes than half the faculty, I could break any defense, throw a spell without a wand or a sound, sneak anywhere, steal anything, be anyone. Hell, I could even kill a man six ways with my bare hands and out-duel a Death Eater, but no one had bothered to teach me how to dance. Who goes to Balls these days anyway?

"I think I'm just going to stay in the dorm," I continued, having barely paused to think all this.

"Aw, come on. You can't miss the Yule Ball! Even I'm going."

"What? You didn't tell us that. Only third year and up can go."

"Dennis Creevy invited me."

Patrick and I exchanged shocked glances. "I don't like him," I announced, though I'd little occasion to talk to either of the Creevy brothers.

"How can you not like him? You don't even know him."

"I still don't like him. Patrick, you'd better find a date so you can keep an eye on the Dennis boy."

Patrick didn't answer because he was too busy laughing at me.

"Oh." Hillary threw a napkin at me and I let it hit me so I could pretend to be hurt. "It's not like that, Sue. He's just nice and he knew I wanted to go so he invited me."

"Right. That's how it always starts, isn't it?"

"Shut up. I can take care of myself."

I didn't press the matter after that. For all she was only twelve, Hillary could, indeed, take care of herself. I had personally taught her all the holds and throws I could think of, since she didn't share my aptitude for wandless magic, and she'd even managed to subdue me once or twice. No, this Dennis boy didn't stand a chance. But I still didn't like him.

After a few more jokes and jibes, and Patrick's reluctant promise to ask a certain sixth-year to the dance, we broke up and went our separate ways. It was near the time I'd left to use the bathroom and if I took too long to pee, someone might get suspicious. Or maybe not. Few people noticed my coming and goings and no one seemed to care.

I stopped before the entrance to the tunnel and sighed before making the mental shift that changed me once again into Helen Schmidt.

I pushed my fake glasses further up the bridge of my nose as I watched the last student stumble out of the common room on his way to bed. Once again, I'd spent the whole evening curled up by the side of the fire with a book, and not a single person had stopped to talk to me. Outside of a few 'Hey, Helen's but those were more automatic courtesy than anything else. No one's ever accused Hufflepuff House of being discourteous.

But courtesy wasn't enough for me. I wanted friendship and romance and warmth and few stolen hours a week in the Shrieking Shack only served to show how desperately empty the rest of my life was. Perhaps that's why I'd begun 'exploring' with Patrick. Or perhaps it was because I'd stubbornly refused to let my Helen facade develop anything interesting and no one else was particularly interested. Either way, on nights like this one where the solace in my life seemed to overtake me I desperately needed even the false romance we shared.

I didn't need to turn the time-turner to get away from the common room since there was no one to watch me. Instead I simply put my book away (a fiction book from the library on the outside, but a horridly dry study of aerodynamic spells on the inside) and walked out the port. I was Helen the Invisible. Even if anyone was around to see me, they wouldn't notice or note my passing. For one irrational moment I wanted to run to the hall leading to the dorm rooms and shout "Hey! I'm sneaking off to see my boyfriend!" Just to see if anyone would notice me then. Probably not.

Once I was out and about it was easy to find Patrick. I just walked around as obvious as possible until he found me. One of the three of us always kept an eye on the castle at night, sometimes even all of us.

That night Patrick caught me in a hallway of classrooms. He managed to sneak up behind me without my noticing and pull me into one of the empty classrooms. He had a hand over my mouth to keep me from yelping, but I was too good to make a sound because someone surprised me and I recognized his scent before instinct made me fight back.

"You know I hate it when you do that," I told him once we were safely inside. He knew I was jealous of the way he could move quieter than I could.

"Yeah, I know," he said and grinned at me. It wasn't the same grin he used in front of Hillary. It was a grin that knew what was coming next and was far too pleased with itself.

I tucked my fake glasses in a pocket of my robe and changed back to my natural form. Patrick hardly waited for me to finish before wrapping his arms around me and ducking his head to kiss me.

Patrick was my friend. He cared for me. But what we did in empty classrooms and shadowed alcoves was entirely self-serving and I knew it. I knew it in the way he never talked about. In the way he never touched me before I dropped my Helen look. Even in the way he kissed me. In the way his hands roamed over me as if I were a statue, or a pleasurable, if confusing puzzle, rather than another person. I knew it because I did it, too. I wasn't looking for some great love in Patrick. We'd both been Untouchables since before puberty and it meant just that: that we were untouchable. We only had each other.

I missed it. I missed what so clearly should have been there but wasn't. Even as he continued to kiss me and his hands slid inside my robe and my body told me that everything he was doing was right my heart told me that it was all wrong. But since they both couldn't be happy I was going to at least let my body have what it wanted. And I trusted Patrick not to let the issue get too complicated.

Some time later Patrick kissed the top of my ear and whispered, "I really should get back out there."

I traced the lines of his muscled arm with one fingertip and snuggled closer to him. "If you're going to start talking about what we should be doing, you shouldn't be in here at all," I told him. "What would Micheal say if he knew you were blowing off work to sleep with a coworker?" I was referring to his 'parent,' his equivalent to my Mr. Winders.

Patrick laughed and brushed the hair out of my face. "He'd probably congratulate me," he answered truthfully. "Or, he might ask me if anything else was getting blown."

I made an offended sound and punched him lightly. Truth was I enjoyed our little moments at the end of our encounters and wanted it to last as long as possible. Curled up by his side, I could forget for a moment and pretend that the arms around me were ones that loved me.

Patrick looked at me with a satisfied expression that he couldn't quite hide, he dark green eyes almost black in the gloom. I glowed with pleasure, remembering all the ways I'd put it there. Then he sighed and rested his cheek against the top of my head. "You know I'd stay here all night with you if I could."

"Yeah, I know," I said with a sigh. "But you can't so you might as well get gone. Besides, I'm freezing." Which was true. We were sitting on top of our clothes to keep off the stone floor and the parts of me that weren't touching him were starting to turn blue.

He dressed quickly, gave me one last, companionable kiss on the cheek, and slipped silently out the door.

I watched him go, then shivered and got dressed as well. As always after I did something with Patrick or Hillary, I wondered vaguely if I shouldn't have done it. If seeing them and being someone other than Helen for a while was keeping me sane, it was also driving me insane. It only reminded me that to the rest of the world Helen Schmidt was a nobody, that I was friendless and loveless, and the all too infrequent moments of joy I shared with them served only to punctuate the vast stretches of loneliness that marked the rest of my life.

I took out my glasses and sighed, wanting to do anything but turn back into Helen. In a sudden, impulsive moment, I decided not to. I was a metamorphagus; I could be anyone I wanted to. But I couldn't walk around as myself. I was far too paranoid for that. So I made my hair long and curly and a dark, rich shade of red. My eyes turned sea-blue and the face around them long and elegant. I made my body taller and softer, less obviously muscled. Satisfied that even Patrick wouldn't recognize me, I stepped out of the classroom.

The problem with my plan, I quickly discovered, was that there was no one to show off my new look to. I wasn't even completely sure that I had any kind of plan to begin with. But I told myself that at least it was different and walked around Hogwarts as if I owned the place, rather than scurrying along behind my classmates as Helen, or sneaking around as Susan-who-still-looked-like-Helen. I wanted to be bold for once in my life and if no one was around to see it, well, I was undercover so it was probably for the better. Besides, I had enough imagination to make up for the lack of people. I'd done the same thing as a child pretending to have a family.

Eventually I made my way up to the owlery, which, if you didn't mind the smell, offered the best view of the castle and surrounding grounds besides the astronomy tower, but there were often random star-gazers completing homework assignments there.

I smiled to myself as I walked around the room to one of the outside ledges. The rafters above me were almost empty, as only the laziest owls were still inside at this of night. Once there, I leaned against the railing and took a deep breath of the clean, cold air that was blowing in off the lake.

"Um, hello?"

I turned, startled but ready to fight, and was met with a pair of vivid green eyes. For a moment those eyes were all I could see. They caught my attention and I stared, transfixed, and the very eyes that had been laughing at me from the shadows since I was five.

It took me several seconds to pull my attention back and see the rest of the boy. He was a little taller than my new height, with the skinny look of someone still growing into their shape and had messy black hair. All together he looked like a younger, lighter, less debonair version of Patrick, but with thick glasses. He was also petting a snowy owl that rested on the railing beside him.

I noticed all of this in a moment (which made the several seconds I spent staring at his eyes seem even more ridiculous) and hurriedly tried to recover myself. "Oh. I'm sorry. I didn't know anyone else was up here."

"I just came up to see Hedgwig," he informed me, unnecessarily. "I'm Harry Potter," he said suddenly, and held out a hand to me.

"Oh." I shook his hand awkwardly, still caught off guard by both his presence and his eyes.

Of course, I already knew he was Harry Potter. The scar and glasses made him easily recognizable, even if I didn't know by name almost every student at Hogwarts. Harry Potter. The Boy Who Lived. Son of Lily and James Potter. Spends the summers with his maternal aunt. Usually seen with Hermoine Granger, muggle-born, no siblings, and Ron Weasley, wizarding family, six siblings, three attending Hogwarts. Seaker for his house Qudditch team, surviving Hogwarts champion, often seen with the Keeper of the Keys, Hagrid. And the most sought-after Death Eater target. Hillary had already averted three assassination attempts. Best at Defense Against the Dark Arts.

My mind ran through all these useless facts in an instant and I realized that he was waiting for my name. I couldn't tell him Susan. And I couldn't tell him Helen, either. I needed a cover. Again. But I never made up my own covers, they were always given to me before hand. Damn that impulsive moment!

A name. A name. Something more exciting than 'Susan' or 'Helen.' What name...

"I'm Cassandra," I told him, giving him the first name that I thought of. Damn! Cassandra was my imaginary friend when I was younger. Why did I give him her name?

"Cassandra," Harry repeated, as if he were testing it out. I noticed then that he was still holding my hand. I looked pointedly at our hands and he took the hint and dropped it. "So, do you have an owl here?"

"Um, no. I just came up for the view." Cover. Need a cover... I'm Cassandra. From Ravenclaw. (The house that had the fewest classes with Gryfendor) Haven't seen me before? I've been here. Would that pass? Or should I say I'd transferred in?

But Harry didn't ask me anything that needed a cover. He just stood there in awkward silence, slowly stroking the feathers on Hedgwig's breast. It took me another moment or two to realize that Harry was embarrassed. I was so used to arrogant, self-assured guys like Patrick to know what to do with someone shy.

"She's a beautiful bird," I said, trying to start a conversation. "How long have you had her?"

"Hagrid gave her to me for my birthday."

"Oh? You know the Groundskeeper?"

That seemed to be a safe enough topic for both of us and Harry seized on it and eagerly told me all about how he'd first met the half-giant. He was a decent story teller, and it was nice to have a human side to add to the basic facts I already knew about the man. He started to tell me about the class where Hagrid had introduced Buckbeak, but ended it suddenly and awkwardly. I pretended not to notice, since I knew what he was avoiding talking about. While the fate of one hippogriff wouldn't normally mean much, the Department of Mysteries kept track of all time-turner use and Harry and Hermoine's exploits that evening were both admired and the but of many jokes among the Untouchables.

So we switched to talking about Qudditch. I was good enough at making small talk (it's the best way to assure a source or target or even to get someone to let slip innocent information) and that seemed to be what put Harry at ease. He responded to the almost unconscious encouragement I was trained to give and I steered the conversation to stay on 'safe' topics. Soon enough I started to wonder if he really had been shy, or if that had been just a quirk of my startled mindset.

I didn't realize what time it was until Hedgwig returned with a mouse to offer Harry. He grimaced and left it on the railing after she returned to her rafter. "She's always doing that," he told me.

"It's sweet; she's giving you a present," I told him in a softly teasing tone. But it was getting late, about the time Patrick would stop watching mischievous students and assume everyone still out was up to real trouble. "I, uh, I think I should probably get going now," I told him.

"Oh. Sure." He seemed unusually sad to see me go, but I had to get back to bed before Patrick noticed either an unaccounted for new student, or Helen still up and with nothing to do. Either would be hard to explain.

Before I reached the door of the owlry, Harry called after me, "Do you come up here often?"

I decided, in another impulsive moment, that I'd start to make a habit of it. "Yeah," I called, then slipped out the door before either of us could say something embarrassing.