Disclaimer: J. K. Rowling owns Harry Potter along with Scholastic and whoever else.  I only own my characters so DON'T SUE!!!

Six Feet and Falling

by Saerry Snape

Chapter 8 :: September 2,, 1995 :: Hogwarts – Later Morning (Breakfast)

"C'mon, Harry!  Wake up!"

Harry grumbled something and rolled over, pulling his blankets tighter about his shoulders.  Ron sighed and looked over at the thump that was Dean.  The other Gryffindor had fallen over trying to pull on his pants while running across the room.  The results were not pretty.  Especially as his rear was poking about three feet in the air.

"Ow…" said Dean's muffled-by-the-carpet voice.

"Ron, is Harry up…WHAT THE HELL?!"

Sheyne poked her head into the fifth year boy's dormitory and caught a sight that she did not want to see – a fifteen-year-old's bum.  She had seen her adopted brother's often enough.

"Yech," she remarked and looked at Ron, who was rolling his eyes.  Rolling her eyes at the still bum-in-the-air-for-all-to-see Dean, Sheyne stepped into the room, dressed in leather pants, combat books, and a black tank-top that had 'BOW BEFORE ME FOOLISH MORTAL!!' scrawled across the front in what appeared to be yellow paint.  She strolled across the room, planted one boot on the much-mentioned bum and shoved.  Dean was slung into a sitting position and gaped at the girl.  And his first words were… (no, not "Was your foot just on my bum?"…)

"What are you doing in here?"

Sheyne rolled her eyes and pointed at the still sleeping Harry, who had curled into a ball of blankets as Ron had tried to wake him again.

"Oh," said Dean.  He suddenly blushed and made a mad dash to get behind his bed.  He had no idea that mad dashes do not work well when your pants are only halfway on.

Sheyne simply snorted and turned in one fluid motion to jerk the blankets out of Harry's hands.  The teen came up with them, teeth bared as he aimed a Death Glare at the girl.  He tugged the blankets back, growling, "Mine."

"Oh for the sake of puppies and kittens," moaned Sheyne.  "All of you are hopeless!  HOPELESS, I say!"

"That's what Professor Snape has been telling me for four years," grumbled Neville from under his covers.

"Remind me to kill my father for being such an ass sometimes.  GIVE ME THE BLANKETS!"

"MIIIIIIIIINEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!"

Half of Gryffindor Tower was now standing in the doorway, watching as Sheyne and Harry wrestled over Harry's blankets.  Ron meanwhile was trying to kill himself by bashing his head repeatedly against the wall and Dean was STILL trying to get his pants on.

Just another normal – er, abnormal day at Hogwarts.

* * *

When Sheyne, Ron, and Harry finally arrived for breakfast (Sheyne had let Harry win the blanket-tug.  She also let him win when he was perfectly positioned to fall off the bed…), Hermione was at the end of her wits.

"Where have you three been?  Some third year was saying that you were all trying to kill yourselves."

Harry scowled and pointed at Sheyne, who sat down beside him.

"She started it."

"WHAT?!  Now, see here you…"

"See what?  That piece of pumpkin pasty on your head?"

"Pardon?"

SPLAT.

Laughter erupted from the Slytherin table as a pumpkin pasty suddenly struck Sheyne in the head, splattering pieces on Harry and the nearby Ron.

"Yech.  Who threw it?" asked Ron as he pulled a piece of pasty off his nose.

"Whoever did is going to die a very slow and painful death," stated Harry as Sheyne rose, amber eyes gleaming and marched over to the Slytherin table, the pasty still on her head.  She strode over to the laughing Draco Malfoy and hauled him to the floor.  Though they could not see, they could hear quite well what she told the Slytherin.

"IF YOU EVER PISS ME OFF AGAIN, MALFOY, I WILL FIND A VERY LONG, VERY SHARP KNIFE AND I SHALL MAKE YOU SING SOPRANO!!"

Half the male population in the room winced as Sheyne rose, dusting her hands off and then scraping the pasty out of her hair before ceremoniously dumping the mound of orange pasty and white cream on Malfoy's sleek blond hair.  She also made sure to rub it in before marching back to her seat between Harry and Ron.  As she sat down, Harry lifted his hands and applauded silently.  Sheyne's angry demeanor lessened slightly and she smiled at the grinning boy.

"MISS SNAPE!"

"Yes, professor?" said Sheyne without turning to look at the fuming Professor McGonagall.

"TEN POINTS FROM GRYFFINDOR!  AND TEN POINTS FROM SLYTHERIN, MR. MALFOY!"

Malfoy glared at Sheyne, who gave him a scowl that imitated her father's to a 'T'.  He gave a little start then looked away hurriedly.

Ron, still recovering from the shock of seeing Snape's daughter dump a pumpkin pasty on Malfoy's head, suddenly turned to look at her in awe.  Sheyne arched her eyebrows at him then fell out of her chair when he spoke.

"That was bloody brilliant!"

A/N: Okay…its almost 3AM.  My brains are addled.  Excuse the absolute nuttiness of this chapter.  Or, laugh at it.  Whichever.  And remember to review for this poor, sleep-depraved author!  Sleep-depraved AND Completely-Without-Sanity, you mean.  *waves hand idly, not paying attention to what is said*  Yes, yes, yes…