Long's the journey, far you'll roam

Turn and think of going home.

Your tears will fall like broken stardust

Even on stainless steel they will rust.

Into darkness and beyond

Until light comes to the monde.

Draco Malfoy knew he could simply ask about what was going on with Hermione Granger. His Head of House would surely know (although he'd have little reason to tell Draco, so there was that). Flitwick would also know, but Draco had less of a connection with him, and trying to forge one might take too long.

Besides, what was the point of a riddle if you asked someone else to solve it for you?

Draco Malfoy needed a plan. He'd talked with Luna yesterday, and had come up with one, risky though it was. Still, he'd seen Potter manage worse things (a firework? really?) and not actually be maimed, wounded or killed. So, it might work.

If it was a charm, a spell of some sort - if Hermione was doing it herself, this should prove it. If not, it would be some sort of artifact.

Draco was confident that Luna could talk Hermione into teaching her what she was doing... eventually. Time itself would grind to dust before a Ravenclaw gave up such a tasty assignment, after all. Draco would have liked it himself, but getting Hermione to talk with him was difficult enough.

And today was the perfect opportunity. A potion of confounding - one that would twist up one's sense of balance and direction. The normal potion lasted only an hour, but Draco's modifications (as prompted by Bechtold) would make it last far longer. Three whole days. With the midterm tests coming up, Granger would be stir-crazy trying to make them. She'd speed up time if she could, because she couldn't rely on her friends.

Not in this, at least. Draco had seen her friends' notes. They were dreadful, and were likely to be worse without Hermione to insist they sat in the front row.

Potions class started with the general argumentation that Draco was used to - Hermione was trying to make spots out of this potion - quick little things that she could magic into Ron Weasel, no doubt. The boy was a hothead in the best of times, and was likely to say things he didn't mean - better to make him sound stupid than actually spill secrets. Draco could sympathize (Gryffindorks were aggravating even in the best of times, and Ron Weasel was the worst. It was as if the entire purpose of creating him was to create an irritation. And somehow Granger was his friend.*).

After they had finished laying out the three variations, the other two pupils tuned into the conversation - just long enough to get their papers. Draco had to wonder what they talked about while he was busy arguing with Granger.

The potionmaking was like settling into a well hewn groove. Chop chop stir spin toss sprinkle. Everything in the proper order. Draco's was done first, courtesy of his choice of woundwort for stability. Everyone else had to wait about five minutes more. Draco Malfoy bottled his potion in a nice vial and then headed towards the front of the room where the latticework apparatus for containing vials sat. Of course, he had to walk by Hermione Granger to do so, and as he got near, he stumbled - over nothing at all - and let the vial splash the back of her head, her face, her hair.

It was beautiful. Of course, such things were relative, but having gooey, oozy purple gunk dripping all down her was hilarious.

Draco Malfoy couldn't stifle a laugh, and Hermione's face was getting beet red (where it wasn't purple), and Harry Potter was right there beside her, in righteous indignation (Draco was glad that there wasn't a wand pulled yet).

Snape shot into the room, as if he'd been listening behind the door (which, come to think, he probably had). He began to wave his wand around Hermione, trying several spells to remove the pernicious oobleck, which had hardened as everyone had apparently decided that dealing with Draco's amusement was much more important than actually removing the noxious substance. More fool them, Draco thought.

"It's useless," Snape at last said coldly. "Miss Granger, you are confined to the infirmary for the next three days. You are to stay there. This will not be a pleasant time for you."

"But sir-!" Granger said, rather predictably, "I've got too much-!"

Snape cut her off, "I will finish your potion, and grade you accordingly. You will not be receiving perfect marks for this potion, as your workspace is not cleared off." Smirking, Draco snorted at this, surprised that Snape would actually give Granger credit for what she hadn't actually done, which was stir once and bottle the business.

"As for the rest of you," Snape said looking over them, "I believe you have potions that need tending."

"But sir!-" Harry Potter said, "Malfoy did it on purpose."

"Mister Malfoy?" Snape said, looming over Draco.

"It was absolutely an accident, sir." Draco Malfoy said, putting on his best innocent face. "They think I did it on purpose because I have some sense of style. Tyrian purple and crimson and chocolate clash abominably, sir."

Snape looked over at Harry Potter, and said, "I am confident that this was an accident." Snape looked at Draco then, and Draco felt a spike of fear. "Be more careful in the future, or I will punish you as if you did it intentionally. Once is a mistake. Twice is running the margins." Draco nodded somberly, as Granger at last left the room.

Snape looked back at Potter, who was still looking peeved as hell. "I'd think twice, if I were you, before drawing a wand in my classroom. If you must fight like a common hooligan, do it later."

Harry Potter, amusingly startled, looked up at Snape, blinked once, and then said, "Yes sir." First time for everything, Draco Malfoy supposed.

*Draco is quite conveniently forgetting that he used to think of Hermione as really, really really irritating.

[a/n: Hermione isn't around to talk them out of "justice."

This is Wednesday. Potions Day.]