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 28 :: February 5, 1995 :: Hogwarts – Afternoon

The Friday before the Hogsmeade weekend, other Death Eater's children were constantly barraging Harry.  He finally just went up to Gryffindor Tower and lay down on his bed with the curtains drawn, completely skipping double Potions in the afternoon.  Dumbledore could figure out why easily enough.

Maybe fifteen minutes after he heard the bell signaling the end of afternoon classes, someone opened one of the curtains and climbed up onto his bed with him.  Harry was lying on his stomach and did not want to get up to see who it was.  Besides, he had already smelled her.

"'Lo, Mione," he murmured into the pillow as the bushy haired girl curled up beside him.

"Hi," came the reply.  "Are you nervous?"

Harry kept his eyes closed as he replied, "Nah."  Slowly he turned onto his side, to which Hermione snuggled close to.  She tucked her head under his chin and sighed contentedly.

"I don't believe you," she said after a moment.

"I'm glad somebody doesn't.  Even Shey believes me," said Harry, running his hand through her hair.

"She hasn't known you as long as I have."

"True."  Harry opened his eyes and sighed heavily.  "Mione, do you think this is crazy?"

Hermione shifted slightly then replied, "Everything is a little crazy, Harry."

"I know.  But, this plan…"

"It will work."

"Oh, really?" said Harry.  "And how do you know that, Miss Granger?"

"Because, Mister Snape," said Hermione matter-of-factly, "I believe in you."

"That…"

"Harry?"

"Yes?"

"Shut up."

Harry pulled back slightly so he could smile down at the girl in his arms and murmured, "Whatever you say."  Hermione laughed softly and they cuddled close, the silence between them a comfortable one.

* * *

Saturday…

"I feel left out," grumbled Sheyne as she slumped down in her chair.

"Well," said Hermione from the couch, where she sat leaning against Harry.  "Just think.  You could be one of Voldemort's drones."

"I congratulate you on saying the name," muttered Sheyne, still looking disgruntled.  "How are we going to know if Voldemort's taken them, by the way?"

"Malfoy said we'd feel it," replied Harry, curling a lock of Hermione's hair about his finger.

"Even inside the wards?"

"That's what he said."

"What'll it feel like?"

"Now how should he know that?"

"Are you going soft on him?" joked Hermione, looking at the boy behind her.

"And if I am?" defended Harry.  "He's not such a bad chap…"

"Harry!" exploded Sheyne.  She had sat up like a bolt in her chair and was gaping at her half-brother.

"What?"

"Tell me your joking."

"Er…no."

"Harry!"

Harry winced and moaned, "Please stop yelling my name."

"Sorry," said Sheyne.  "But, Harry…Malfoy?"

"As I said, he's not such a bad chap."

Hermione turned slightly on the couch and said, "You two solved your differences?"

"Well, yeah.  A few days ago."

"Oh," said Sheyne with a smirk.  "So that's how you got that bruise on your cheek."

"Malfoy had a broken nose," gasped Hermione suddenly.  She looked at the boy beside her and admonished, "Harry."

"Wha-at?" exclaimed Harry, eyes wide and innocent.

"Did you punch Malfoy?"

"Well…we both sort of punched each other.  He just happened to get the worst one.  Did nearly break my jaw though, the bugger."

Sheyne burst out laughing.  After she had caught her breath, she gasped, "That's what you call settling your differences?"

"Well…yeah," said Harry.  "He wanted to hit me, so I obliged.  Then I promptly hit him back.  It was a win-win situation."

"Oh really?" said Hermione, arching an eyebrow as she crossed her arms across her chest.

"Yeah.  He got out whatever he wanted and I got revenge."

"For what?" asked Sheyne.

"For every insult he's delivered in the last four years."

"What did he punch you for?" asked Hermione.

"Something about me being a complete ass…  I can't completely recall…"  Harry suddenly looked up as a pale Neville rushed into the common room, panting heavily.  He sat up quickly and demanded, "What's going on?"

"M-Malfoy," panted Neville, blue eyes wide as he pointed towards the open portrait.  "Crabbe and Goyle…Pansy…bunch of other Slytherins."

"Where?" growled Harry, rising from the couch.

"Second floor.  By – by the statue of the dragon."

"I know that spot," said Sheyne.  "C'mon.  There's a secret passage that comes out right behind the statue."

"Let's go then," growled Harry.  Sheyne nodded and the two of them charged out of the room.  Hermione made Neville sit down to catch his breath then raced after them.

* * *

"Harry…"

"Shh…"  Harry held up a hand to silence Hermione and Sheyne as the three of them crept down the dusty passageway.  "I hear something…"

"We're close to the end," breathed Sheyne.  "There's a panel somewhere that opens it."

"Not yet," hissed Harry, touching her arm.  "I want to hear first."

"And if they're injuring Malfoy?" asked Hermione as Sheyne searched for the panel.

Harry gave her a Look, his green eyes practically glowing in the dark of the passage.  Sheyne's amber eyes were almost glowing as well.

"Then we'll help him," growled Harry.

When Harry felt the end of the tunnel, he stopped, holding out his hand to halt Hermione's progress.  She peered at him curiously then blinked when they heard Pansy's voice coming through the stone.

"Helping Potter now, are you, Draco?  Or should I say Snape?"  She laughed harshly and continued, "Him and that sister of his are in as much as we are.  And you're helping them?  My, my – how the mighty have fallen."

"Better to have fallen from grace," grated Malfoy's voice weakly, "than to have sunk as low as you, Parkinson."

"Stupid…  Crabbe!"

There was a grunt and then Malfoy's voice rang out in pain.  Harry's fist clenched and he growled under his breath, "The bastards.  They're not even giving him the chance to fight."

"How do they know he's helping us?" hissed Hermione in his ear, her breath tickling.

"Probably a snitch.  Bloody sod's.  Shey, have you got that panel?"

"Yep.  But…"

"What?" asked Harry, his face turned towards the wall.

"Should we really go out there?  Us doing that would just confirm their suspicions."

"If we don't, they could kill him.  Or they might even drag him outside."

"He hasn't Called…oh, God…"

"What?" hissed Hermione as Sheyne let out a low moan.  Harry shook his head slowly, his eyes still focused on the wall.

"He's doing it," he whispered.  "He's – Voldemort's taking them.  He's taking them now.  I – I can feel it."

"Me too," breathed Sheyne.  "Oh, God, Harry.  There's so many of them!"

"I know," said Harry.  Hermione felt left out of this conversation.  She couldn't feel what they felt.  But the Slytherins gathered outside the statue could.

"He's Calling," grunted Goyle.

"I hear it," spat Pansy.  "Pick him up.  I'm sure our Lord would love to know what the little renegade's are doing."

"Push it," spat Harry to Sheyne, drawing his wand.  "Push it or Malfoy's done for."

Sheyne depressed the panel and the dragon statue began to slide away from the end of the tunnel.  Harry squirmed out as soon as there was enough space and leveled his wand at a sixth year Slytherin's back.

"Stupefy!"

Pansy and another fifth year girl (Millicent Bulstrode, it seemed) turned and drew their wands on Harry, both firing hexes.  But Sheyne was there at her brother's side, casting a shield spell.  The two hexes ricocheted off the shield and dissipated against the stone walls.

"Put him down," growled Harry to Goyle, who had a limp Malfoy thrown over one shoulder.  Goyle started to comply but Pansy stepped in.

"No," she said, "leave him right there, Goyle."  She sneered at Harry and spat, "Do you really think you can fight the Dark Lord, Potter?"

"One: I'm a Snape, you ditz.  Two: I've done that three times now.  Three: I don't want to become his mindless drone.  Four: I really don't like him.  Five: he killed my father.  Six: he killed my mother and the man I thought was my father.  Seven: I really really don't like him.  Shall I continue or do you get the general picture?"

Pansy smirked and said, "You'd have made a good Slytherin, Potter."

Harry smiled grimly and quipped, "Y'know, the Sorting Hat said that too.  But we're not talking about my House, are we?  So, put Malfoy down and if you really want to become a mindless little drone for Voldemort's plots, be my guest.  But Malfoy stays."

"Don't tell me you've grown attached to him," sneered Millicent.  "He's nothing."

"He's got more brains than the lot of you," said Hermione from Harry's other side.  "And a better sense of preservation."

"What's that supposed to mean?" snapped Pansy, eyes flashing.

"You figure it out," shot Hermione venomously.

"Go on now," growled Sheyne, waggling the fingers of her left hand at them.  "Go on to Voldemort.  Oh, but leave the blond.  As Harry said, we want him."

"You can't have him," stated Pansy, crossing her arms across her chest.

"Oh really?" said Harry.  He looked at Sheyne and arched an eyebrow.  The girl smirked at him then tucked her wand up her sleeve before her form shimmered and was replaced by that of a black panther.  Pansy and Millicent squealed in terror as the panther moved forward in a few liquid steps, black lips pulled back from sharp white fangs.

Harry smirked and said, "Please excuse my sister.  Sometimes she just has to – ah – 'let the animal out'.  If you know what I mean…"  Hermione chuckled softly beside him and he winked at her.

Pansy turned white as the panther circled the Slytherins then snapped at Goyle, "Put him down!"

"But…" began a third year Slytherin.

"Its him or our lives," spat Pansy.  "Which would you prefer?"

"Actually," said Hermione with a smile, "its him or your servitude to Voldemort."

"Shut up," snapped Pansy as Goyle dropped Malfoy roughly on the ground.  The panther moved towards the blonde's limp body after this, placing one large paw on his side and snarling at the Slytherins.

"I think that's your cue to leave," said Harry, lifting his wand and looking down the length of it.  "Don't and I'll start hexing the lot of you.  And trust me when I say I know a few good hexes.  Good not meaning nice, happy one's."

"You'll regret this, Potter," growled Pansy as they started down the corridor.

Harry smiled coldly at her and replied, "I don't think so, Pansy.  Say hello to Voldemort for me."

The Slytherin scowled at him then vanished about the corner with the rest of her group.  Sheyne popped back into herself and knelt beside Malfoy.  Hermione moved forward and knelt beside her, reaching out to check the blonde's pulse.  She looked at Harry and said, "He's okay."

"We should get him to Madam Pomfrey," said Sheyne, eying his slightly crooked left arm.  "They broke his arm.  And his hand!  Oh, buggers, the lot of them."

Hermione nodded vaguely and looked at Harry again, who had tucked his wand into his belt.  She asked, "Shouldn't we go after them?"

Harry shook his head and said, "It wouldn't do any good."

"Wouldn't do any…"  Hermione rose to her feet and strode over to the boy, looking up at him in shock.  "Harry, we could keep them…"

"No," snapped Harry.

"But…why?"

Harry sighed and ran a hand back through his hair as he said, "Because we'd have to lock them up.  You don't get it, Mione.  They want to go.  That's how they were raised.  They were raised to jump at Voldemort's orders…"

"Malfoy doesn't want to," interjected Hermione, crossing her arms.

"That's because Malfoy's actually got a mind of his own, not one siphoned off one of his parents brains."  Harry sighed and said, "Imagine if we held them against their will.  If they got out, d'you know what they'd do?  Attack us.  With no reserves.  They'd use every curse and hex they know and they wouldn't give a damn.  And if Voldemort decided to attack?  They'd definitely find some way to get out then and take us while our backs were turned."  He sighed again.

"Plus," he added almost as an afterthought, "we'd really be no better than that madman if we held them against their will, now wouldn't we?"

Hermione frowned then sighed, giving Harry an exasperated look.

"I hate it when you're right."

"Thank you."

"Shut up and let's get Malfoy to the Hospital Wing.  Locomotor mortis."

Malfoy's body rose into the air and the three of them trailed along behind it as they headed down the corridor, Harry and Sheyne both sensing as Pansy, Crabbe, Goyle, and the four other Slytherins were taken over by Voldemort.  The two Snape's shivered at this revelation and Sheyne slid her hand into her half-brother's, gripping it tight.

* * *

When they arrived at the Hospital Wing, Madam Pomfrey was oddly absent.  Hermione frowned at this as she levitated Malfoy onto a bed then turned towards Harry, her eyes dark.

"Something's wrong," she murmured.  "Madam Pomfrey's always here."

"I know," said Harry, looking around.  "Something's up."

"You mean something smell's fishy," corrected Sheyne, leaning towards the door.

Harry frowned at his half-sister and said, "Noooo…"

"No," said Sheyne.  She pointed at the door and said, "Something actually smells fishy."

Hermione sniffed the air and said, "I don't smell anything."

Sheyne sighed and said, "That's because you're not a Shifter.  Pa – Papa told me that Shifter's have better senses than regular wizards and witches."  She jerked her thumb at the door and continued, "And that door smells like fish and it shouldn't."

Madam Pomfrey suddenly bustled through the doors and nearly bowled Sheyne down.

"Oh.  Sorry, Sheyne, dear…"

"Its alright, Madam Pomfrey," mumbled the girl as she regained her balance.  She gave her head a shake then asked, "What's the rush?"

"Oh!" exclaimed Madam Pomfrey, her eyes widening.  She looked from Sheyne to Harry and held a hand up to her mouth.  "Professor Dumbledore wouldn't want me to tell the two of you…"

"What?" demanded Harry, crossing his arms across his chest.  His eyes narrowed dramatically and practically burned with annoyance.

Madam Pomfrey gave him a look of pity, much like McGonagall had when he'd limped down to the dungeons after he'd heard the stones screaming.  She then closed her eyes and said softly, "I have a confession to make."

Sheyne and Harry waited patiently, Hermione hovering at Harry's elbow.  Three sets of eyes watched the mediwitch expectantly, waiting for her next words.

Madam Pomfrey looked up at them and said, "Severus was never dead."

"WHAT?!" bellowed Harry and Sheyne at the same time.

"Then what the hell did you let us think so for?" roared Harry, eyes flashing.  Sheyne nodded sharply, her eyes shifting between blood red, acid green, and venomous yellow."

"A-Albus told me not to tell you," murmured Madam Pomfrey, ducking her head at the wrath of the Snape children.  "I wanted to…"  She looked up at them, tears in her eyes, and said, "I truly wanted to.  I never wanted to see either of you hurt."

"Too late," spat Harry viciously.  He scowled darkly and growled, "So, why the charade?  I assume there was a reason for it other than nearly driving us MAD!"

"Albus thought that Voldemort assumed when you two thought Severus was dead, you'd turn to him.  It failed."  Madam Pomfrey closed her eyes again.  "So he formed another plan…"

"What?" demanded Sheyne, eyes shifting back to her normal amber as her pupil's shifted from human to cat.

Madam Pomfrey's shoulders shook as she breathed, "They took him.  When they left, they took him."

"How in the fucking hell did they know?" spat Harry.

"I don't know!" cried Madam Pomfrey.  She then spotted Malfoy's feet and said, "Oh dear.  They attacked him, didn't they?"

"Yesssss," growled Harry, the 's' drawing out into a snakelike hiss.  "Somehow they found out and now Voldemort knows about us.  He'll probably know what we're trying to do to."  He closed his eyes and lifted a hand to rub at his scar.  "And now," he added darkly, "you're telling us that our father is really alive and that that bastard has him in his hands."

Madam Pomfrey nodded slowly and Harry let out an angry hiss of breath, looking at Sheyne.  He then looked at the mediwitch and said, "So all of this was Dumbledore's idea?  He really knew about the Mark's and everything…  Bloody conniving old man!"

"Yes."

"Son of a…"  Harry trailed off, closing his eyes again as his fists clenched tightly at his sides.  When he looked up again, there was murder in his emerald eyes.

"All Dumbledore's idea, aye?" he said softly.  "I'll show Dumbledore his idea."  With that he stalked out of the Hospital Wing and headed straight towards the gargoyle that guarded the Headmaster's office.  Sheyne followed him, her eyes continually flashing through different colors.

Madam Pomfrey looked at Hermione, who was staring after them, and said hurriedly," Go after them, girl.  If Harry harms Dumbledore, the whole Order will fall apart!"

"The Order?"

"Nevermind that!  Just go and stop him!"

"But…" said Hermione.

"Its like Severus and Rowena, my girl," said Madam Pomfrey hurriedly.  "If Harry is anything like his father, he won't do harm if you stop him."

"What about Sheyne?"

"I can stop her," said Stephen, suddenly appearing at the door, his pale green eyes grave.  He looked at Hermione and said, "We have to hurry.  C'mon!"

Hermione nodded and the two of them ran down the corridor, hoping they weren't too late as Madam Pomfrey turned her attention upon the injured Malfoy.

A/N: Harry's pissssssed.  And Sev's alive.  Surprised?  I am.  Shut up, Atra.