A/N: Sorry for the wait, guys! Thanks for waiting..hope you like it and had a Merry Christmas! :D

"You get older and blame turns to shame

'Cause everything inside

it never comes out right." – Sorry, by Buckcherry

Chapter 9 - At Wits End

Malfoy pointed his wand at the door.

"Alohamora," he said confidently. A soft golden light erupted from the tip of his wand as it touched the keyhole. He grabbed the doorknob for the second time and turned—it remained sealed. He tried to pull the door harder, growling in frustration.

Hermione's mind was racing at this point, watching Malfoy fail over and over as he tried to unlock the door. She started to pace, on the verge of panicking. Not to mention her head was still throbbing.

"Why is the door locked?" she asked angrily, massaging her temples.

"Hell if I know Granger," Malfoy snapped. "It's your bloody fault we're trapped now."

"It was your idea in the first place you ignorant prat!"

"Well it was your spell that did this!"

Hermione stared at him. "What spell?"

"The spell that has us trapped inside this stupid room!"

"You are unbelievable!" Hermione threw up her hands and plopped on the ground, turning sharply away from him. She glanced at her wrist watch, stared at it, and then shot back to her feet. "We have potions in three quarters of an hour!" she shouted frantically.

"Is that all you care about?" Malfoy said, gaping at her. "You really are a pathetic Mudblood."

"At least I'm capable of caring for something, which is more than I can say about you," said Hermione, flashing a nasty look his way. "And don't you even star—" she came to a halt, catching sight of his left shoulder. "You're bleeding."

Malfoy's Slytherin robe had fallen off, leaving him wearing a white button up shirt with a green and silver tie. The blood was leaking through his shirt on his shoulder, creating a violent shade of scarlet that contrasted greatly with his skin. He looked at his shoulder, blinking.

"Come here," Hermione growled.

"Why?"

"Do you want to bleed to death?"

"Better than being trapped with you."

"FINE!" Hermione shouted, throwing her hands in the air once more. "You can just die from blood loss!" She turned away angrily. Her heated gaze found the door, and if her eyes were magical, they would surely burn right through the wood.

Stupid Malfoy. Stupid magic. Stupid door.

Silence followed, the only sound being the rapid, angry breaths of Hermione. She was completely content in her brooding and silent fury, but Malfoy seemed to have other plans.

"Fine," he breathed out slowly, as though the word physically pained him. "How do you fix it?"

Hermione turned to him slowly, scowling. "You let me do it, unless you want to take the risk of messing it up." She flashed a cruel smile. "But please, be my guest."

She could tell by the look on his face he was internally debating the cost of needing help and the cost of pain. It couldn't be more obvious Malfoy didn't like anyone helping him, much less a "Mudblood." For all Hermione knew, he'd just assume die than ask for help. But for some reason, he didn't feel like dying today, because he finally made his way over to her, albeit reluctantly, and sat down before her.

His shirt was torn on his shoulder and Hermione could see the blood dripping down his arm through the thin fabric. She ripped the tear wider to get a better view of the wound. He jumped and let out a yelp.

"Granger!" he shouted. "Watch what you're doing!"

"Then sit still!" she shouted back.

"Well, it hurts like hell!" He tried to pull away but she had a firm grasp on his sleeve and tugged at it harder.

"If you sat still it wouldn't hurt as much!"

Malfoy pulled away—Hermione glared at him. Their gazes locked in a battle of prideful fury, each refusing to look away, each huffing and panting in anger.

Hermione could see that this was going nowhere. She closed her eyes and took a few breaths, allowing herself to calm down and recollect her thoughts. Whether she liked it or not, Malfoy was bleeding profusely and he may pass out at any given moment from the loss of blood. An answered prayer that may be, an unconscious body would only make the situation worse for her.

She opened her eyes.

"Please sit still," she said calmly, "so I can…concentrate on your wound. There is a large piece of wood lodged in your shoulder, and if you do not allow me to remove it, you will likely bleed to death before we find a way out of this room."

Malfoy stared at her, apparently trying to decide if she was serious or not. When he made no comment—he must have assumed she was, in fact, serious—Hermione went to work.

She muttered a simple numbing charm to help stop the pain—she knew removing the wood from his shoulder would be quite painful, regardless of size. Normally, she would have enjoyed seeing Malfoy in pain; however, he still had his wand clenched in his hand and she didn't want to deal with an angry, pained Malfoy.

Hermione removed the large piece of wood with her wand, but had to use her fingers to get the tiny remains. His blood painted her fingers and the sleeves of her robes. She had been around enough blood and wounds that the smell of rust and salt was familiar; it did not make her nauseated, but rather, gave her a sense of awareness.

Malfoy remained silent throughout the procedure; if he was in any amount of pain, he did not show it. Hermione felt a sense of calm as she finished with a couple of minor healing spells. She asked the room for bandages. They appeared next to her on a mountain of mushy, bluish-red grass. She looked at him for confirmation, silently asking if it was okay to wrap, but Malfoy was staring in the opposite direction, his eyes focused on something far away.

Hermione wrapped his shoulder anyway.

"There," she said. "I stopped the bleeding, removed the wood, and cleansed and wrapped the wound. You may want to see Madam Pomfrey later, though. I'm no healer and I'm not sure I sealed it well enough."

"If we ever make it out of here…" Malfoy muttered, getting to his feet.

Hermione stood as well. She didn't bother asking for a thank you; both because he would not give it, and because his civil behavior was worth more than verbal gratitude.

"Too bad Potter's not here," said Malfoy with a snort. "He always saves the day, doesn't he?"

Hermione ignored him and removed the blood from her fingers and clothes with her wand. "For some reason 'Alohamora' doesn't work…but why? Wait—what spell did you use?"

"A Body Bind Curse, why?"

"Because you wanted to lock all my movements…" said Hermione, more to herself than to him. "And I…I used 'Impedimenta,' to freeze you in place. But…our spells collided…"

She had started to pace again, and Malfoy followed her with his eyes, brows knit in confusion.

"They collided!" she said excitedly, so loud he jumped. "That's it! It all makes sense now. How could I have been so stupid?"

Malfoy glared at her. "Are you always this annoying when you're thinking about something?"

"Don't you see?" she said, practically running up to him. "Didn't you notice how our spells, both red and blue, basically changed the entire room? Look around, it's all blue and red, filled with smoke and sparks."

"And?" Malfoy prodded, highly annoyed. "Get to the point Granger. I want to get out of here."

"Our spells connected, and instead of binding toward its object, they hit each other," Hermione explained. "But according to Griffins Third Law of Spell Conjunction, a spell, charm, or curse must bind to an actual object. Even if it misses its intended target, it will hit something, because it has to. It's like a magnet: the magnetism of the spell is attracted to an actual object."

"But our spells repelled and bound to the room, since they couldn't bind together," she went on. "And since they connected, they doubled in strength and power. Your spell was to lock movements; mine was to freeze. The connected spells did that! They locked this room and froze it, so we'd be locked inside!" Hermione's voice grew so loud she was practically shouting in excitement. She loved figuring out puzzles and solving cases. This was her element of expertise: being stuck in an insane situation, and using logic to find a way out.

Malfoy gaped at Hermione, and for the briefest second, astonishment was there. The look was gone in an instant, wiped away like blank slate.

"So all we have to do is—" he started.

"—remove our spells," finished Hermione, smiling widely. Malfoy stared at her, the corners of his lips twitching.

Hermione couldn't believe how simple the solution was, once she took the time to sort it all through. How could she forget Griffin's Third Law? Obviously the spells had to bind to something; she only wished she had figured it out sooner.

They then removed their spells with a quick flick of their wands. The room immediately faded, as the red and blue smoke fizzled away. The room transformed back into the way it looked before: completely empty, nothing but a large white, blank canvas with one exception. Tobias sat in his frame, wiping his sweaty face with a handkerchief and looking mildly annoyed.

"Took you long enough," he grunted.

Hermione and Malfoy made their way to the dungeons for Potions together in silence. They had removed the dirt and blood from their robes, tucking in their shirts and adjusting their robes. They looked as normal as ever, not like they had just survived an enchanted dueling room.

Though she did not dare admit it, Hermione couldn't help but feel a twinge of civility toward Malfoy. They weren't friends by any means, and she still hated him, but the Dueling Room was something she'd never forget, much like many adventures she shared with Harry and Ron.

Harry and Ron.

Would she tell them? No, she thought immediately. There was no need for that, and they wouldn't understand. They wouldn't understand why she had agreed to duel Malfoy in the first place, and they wouldn't understand why she had helped him. Her mother would say "sometimes you just had to be there" and this situation certainly applied now.

She glanced at her watch. They were going to be about fifteen minutes late. Late on the first day, to a first time professor's class! Hermione was mortified with herself. She was about to open the door to the Potions classroom when Malfoy stopped her with his hand.

"Not a word to anyone," said Malfoy. The urgency in his tone was so demanding and serious that for a moment, Hermione blinked at him. Then she gathered her wits and nodded.

"I couldn't agree more."

Professor Slughorn had already begun teaching when they stepped through the door. He stopped lecturing at once as the newcomers came into view. Hermione's face immediately flushed scarlet in embarrassment. Harry was gaping at her, his eyes wide and mouth open, like he'd just seen a four headed hippogriff. Ron's face was fluctuating from anger to confusion to bewilderment. The Slytherins, for once, were silent. They looked neither happy nor angry, though shock was wavering on a few faces. Neither Crabbe nor Goyle seemed to make it into the class, but Hermione recognized Blaise, Daphne, and another Slytherin she thought was named Max Craft.

"Oho! This must be Miss Granger and Mr. Malfoy," beamed Slughorn with a jolly smile.

Hermione frowned, but was quite relieved he didn't seem angry.

"I'm sorry Professor, we were…we were…" her voice trailed off. She had not thought of this. Of course she needed an excuse, but what would she say? Not the truth, obviously, and with a classroom filled with anxious eyes, she was drawing a completely blank.

"We were finishing something for Professor Vector," Malfoy cut in smoothly. "We lost track of time, and I apologize for our tardiness. It won't happen again."

Hermione's shocked face would have given them away, but everyone in the class seemed to be staring at Malfoy, mirroring her expression.

"No matter, no matter! Prefects…," Slughorn mused with a chuckle, "you work too hard! Please, have a seat. I need to grab a few things from the cupboard."

Hermione immediately walked to Harry and Ron's lab table without another glance at Malfoy. She took her seat quietly, wishing somehow she could blend in with the black table.

"Hermione, what were you doing with Malfoy?" Harry asked, astonished.

"We're partners in Runes…I didn't have a choice…we were finishing something…lost track of time," she muttered under her breath desperately.

"You were with Malfoy," Ron said quietly, sounding very confused.

"I thought you two weren't taking this class," said Hermione quickly, wanting to shift the spot light away from her as quickly as possible. Harry had told her they needed an 'Outstanding' on their O.W.L. results to take Potions at the N.E.W.T. level, and neither had received such mark.

"We did," said Harry quietly, "with Snape. McGonagall told us after you left this morning that Slughorn would take us. And Slughorn said we could borrow books until we get our own."

"You were with Malfoy!" Ron said again, this time more loudly, but still just as bewildered. And yet there was somehow a lingering hint of betrayal in his voice.

Hermione opened her mouth, and closed it. What could she say? She was with Malfoy and she did have an excuse but what would they think if they knew? For some reason she now felt like she needed to explain herself, but Slughorn re-entered the room before she could say anything.

"Miss Granger and Mr. Malfoy, I was just explaining several of these potions," he said, as he waddled into the room, carrying a bag of what looked like herbs. He gestured toward four boiling cauldrons at the front of the room, perched on a table.

"We have gone over the Polyjuice Potion. Do either of you by chance know what this potion does?" asked Professor Slughorn with mild curiosity.

Hermione nodded at once and spoke on cue, not bothering to wait on Malfoy's response.

"Polyjuice Potion is a potion that allows the drinker to transform themselves into another being temporarily. As long as the drinker takes a drink every hour on the hour, they will remain in their desired state."

Slughorn beamed at her. "Excellent! Ten well-earned points for Gryffindor! I must say, Miss Granger, I am most impressed with your definition."

Hermione smiled modestly, pleased to make a better impression than arriving late.

"You left something out, Granger," Malfoy said in a bored tone. "Even as textbook as your definition is."

Hermione whipped her head around to look at him at the Slytherin table. Slughorn nodded for him to continue, his eyes bulging with excitement.

"The amount of Polyjuice Potion needed to successfully sustain the desired state depends on the weight of the actual person," said Malfoy. "A drink will not suffice."

Slughorn was beaming again, but all Hermione could do was stare at Malfoy, completely astonished. Throughout the years, Potions seemed to be his strongest subject, but Hermione thought that was only because it was Snape showing favoritism.

"And if the weight depends on the amount given to the user, the time the user needed to drink the potion would differ as well," Malfoy finished, a look of triumph etched onto his face.

"My, oh my! You are quite right, Mr. Malfoy! Excellent! Take ten points for Slytherin. Now, let's mo—"

"Weight and time are of no correspondence," Hermione interrupted, as though Slughorn had not spoken at all. "The potion is designed to last one hour and one hour only."

Slughorn nodded reasonably. "Ah, well Miss Granger—"

"That's wrong, Granger," cut in Malfoy. "If the user wishes to turn into a teenager or child, their bodies function and mature at a more rapid growth rate; therefore, the user would need to take the potion more frequently."

"No, they wouldn't!" said Hermione, her voice now rising.

"Hermione…" Harry muttered awkwardly, but Hermione just waved him off.

"Yes, they would," Malfoy argued back through gritted teeth.

"That's not what the book says!"

"Then obviously you're reading the wrong book, Granger!"

"Oh my…" whispered Slughorn.

"Hermione…calm down…"

"Don't tell me what to do, Harry! I am calm! Malfoy is wrong!"

"I'm not wrong, you are! You're just mad because someone else knows more than you about something!"

The silence that followed was heavy and tense. No one had called Hermione out like that…especially over anything that had to do with studies. All she could do was stare at him now, mouth half open, feeling like she had been slapped.

"Miss Granger…Mr. Malfoy…" began Slughorn desperately, "Please…let us move on from the Polyjuice Potion. You both make wonderful, valid points. But we have several other potions to discuss."

Hermione narrowed her eyes but gave a polite nod to Slughorn. Malfoy made no comment, and this seemed to appease Slughorn. He muttered something about a debate club while sorting through several glass phials.

Harry looked at Hermione in bewilderment, like she was someone he didn't even know. He opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again, and looked away. Ron seemed to be avoiding her eyes, or else he found something very interesting carved onto the lab table. Hermione closed her eyes. She wanted to throw her cauldron across the room and nail Malfoy in the face. The small part of her that felt more civil toward him was now gone. The more she looked at his pale pointed, arrogant face, the more her blood boiled.

She hated him. She was sure of it now.

"Now," said Slughorn, "now where were we? Ah yes…yes. This is a rather special potion." He gestured towards the smallest cauldron, "Could anyone possibly tell me—of course, Miss Granger?"

Hermione put her hand down. "It's Amortentia, the strongest love potion in the world," Though she was still was angry with Malfoy; she couldn't hide her interest in the potion, and leaned forward to have an even better look.

"Indeed it is, Miss Granger. A very dangerous potion I must say. It creates a very powerful infatuation and is strengthened over time. The longer it brews, the stronger it is. Every person smells what attracts them most. I happen to smell pineapple, lilac, and Madam Rosmertta's finest oak matured mead…" Slughorn trailed off, a dreamy look on his face.

Hermione took a deep breath and smelt a mixture of new parchment, fresh cotton, and rich mahogany. She suddenly felt all warm and fuzzy inside

Snapping back to reality, Slughorn continued, "But there is one last potion I wish to show you today before we begin our assignment." He pulled a tiny bottle filled with glittering gold liquid from his robes and held it out for the class to see.

"This is Felix Felicis," he said dramatically. "In other words, a bottle of good luck."

The class rose a little higher in their seats, every student trying to have a better look, as Slughorn let the moment of climax lengthen.

"The tiny bottle here is ten hours-worth of luck and I will be giving it out as a prize. Do keep in mind it is not permitted when taking exams or in competitive sports, such as Quidditch." Ron, and several other students, let out a groan. "Now, how do you get my lucky prize? By turning to page 6 of Advanced Potion Making and brewing up The Draught of Living Peace. I do not expect perfect potions, but the person with the best potion shall win the tiny bottle of luck. Off you go!"

Hermione bolted immediately for the supplies cabinet before anyone had moved, her book left open askew on her desk. She had already read the first ten chapters, and remembered most of the ingredients to begin The Draught of Living Peace. It was not an easy potion to say the least, but she knew the theory fairly well.

Hermione returned to her desk as everyone else in the class started to move toward the cabinet. She had a head start, which was good, but she needed to take her time to prepare it just right if she wanted to win.

After a few minutes of cutting valerian roots and a sopophorous bean, Hermione began mixing her potion while adding leech juice and other variations of plants. She ground a piece of moonstone into a light, powered form and added it slowly, causing her potion to turn a light shade of grey.

Her concentration was interrupted by Harry as she tucked a piece of frazzled hair behind her ear. She was going to win this bottle of luck, no matter what.

"Er…Hermione? Could I borrow your silver knife?" Harry asked.

Hermione nodded impatiently without looking at him and continued stirring furiously. She heard a strange, gushing sort of sound from Harry's station, and glanced at his potion. Looking back to page 6, she went back to her directions:

Step 10: Stir counterclockwise for exactly eight minutes. The potion should then shift from a light grey to a dark, inky black.

"Harry," Hermione began, exasperated, "how are you getting yours like that?"

His potion was indeed a perfect inky black, while Hermione's was still a charcoal grey.

"Add a clock wise stir after ev—"

"No, that's not what the book says," she replied hastily, and continued working on her potion for the remaining twenty minutes.

Hermione left the dungeons fuming, red faced, hair frazzled, and covered in soot. She tried to replay the events in her head, but it just didn't match up. Harry had somehow, miraculously, out-smarted her in potions and won the Felix Felicis. Even though she was angry for losing, it did make her a little happy to see Malfoy looking so put out. If anyone had to beat her, she was glad it was Harry.

But it wasn't the fact that Harry had beaten her that made her so angry—okay, part of that wasn't true—but it was mostly because it wasn't his idea to use the silver knife or the clockwise stir or who knows what else.

Harry had showed her the Potion's book he was using, which contained the previous author's scribbles and side notes, scribbles and notes that had apparently led to his success. It wasn't even his work, thought Hermione bitterly. She felt betrayed by a book for the first time in her life. Scowling to herself, she tried to put the liquid luck from her mind as she made her way to the library, her safe haven.

A/N: Thank you for reading. :D I always appreciate your feedback; reviews are much loved!

Review Responses:

Melanie666: "Like the part where Hermione got angry and threw a chair against wall, so much for calm and collected. She lose temper around Draco a lot, doesn't she?" - Yes, she does! He can be a very frustrating person to be around. :P

Alenerien: " I was worried that you might have abandoned this story, since it took so long to update." - No abandoning, I promise! I had finals and the last few weeks of fall semester are always rough. Now that I'm on break, I'm hoping to get more chapters out. The chapters are already written but I've got other stories going on as well so it slows me down. Bah. :P

futurenostagia: "I'm so excited to see that you're still doing HPFF." - Thank you me too! Glad you found me. :D FoD will eventually be posted on here as soon as this one is finished.

a.k.l.: "Why did Draco wanted to duel with Hermione?" - He used a verbal spell in class basically to make her mad, but he wanted to prove to her that he could beat her fairly so he challenges her to a duel. Hermione has a very superior attitude at times, and she should since she's so good at spells, but Malfoy wanted to knock her off her high horse, so to say. :P

Rilla: "But, It seems like the chapters are shorter than before, maybe it's just me." - SO glad you found me, Rilla! I miss your reviews. :D This story will be pumped out much faster than the first time, so hopefully FoD won't take too long to get out. Anyway, the chapters at the beginning of this story ARE longer than the ones in the end, so you are right. I started off writing about 2500-3500 words per chapter when I started CF, but they got longer over time. :D I've combined a couple chapters in this story already, so we're at chapter 9 now but technically this was chapter 11 in the original version. :P