Slow Grenade

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Hermione couldn't believe that Harry had lied about figuring out the golden egg. She could shake him with frustration, he'd had months. Merlin only knew how they were going to figure out a method of remaining underwater by tomorrow. Hermione had just dropped her head exasperatedly on the desk when she heard a chuckle from behind her.

"Do you and that desk need to get a room, Granger?"

She muttered something unintelligible through her hair, keeping her face firmly pressed into the wood.

Draco sat down and shifted close enough to press his side against her. "Didn't quite catch that."

"I said, we had one – until you arrived."

"And here I was, thinking Krum was my only competition."

Hermione lent her head gently on his shoulder. "There is no competition."

He stilled. "Oh?"

She turned and looked into his eyes, her heart was fluttering apprehensively. "I – I'm all yours... if you, well, if you want that."

"You're mine?"

"I have been for a long time, I think."

Draco thread his fingers through her curls and gently tilted her head back. He whispered into her mouth, "Mine."

Coiling her arms around his neck, Hermione pulled him close, capturing his lips with hers.

After several moments, she reluctantly pulled away to catch her breath. "We don't have much time left before Harry and Ron come back." He sighed and rested his forehead against hers as she continued, "I wish it wasn't like this, I wish it didn't matter if they found us together."

"I know. It's just too dangerous, Granger. Especially with the Death Eaters and – " Draco cut off as they heard two male voices nearing their table.

"You'd better go," Hermione told him. "I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Yes, please," he replied, kissing her temple, and slipped away down one of the long library corridors.

Harry and Ron had headed straight back to find Hermione in the library after they finished Divination. They brought snacks which she grabbed at hungrily. "Merlin, thank you, I've hardly eaten all day."

The trio were still sat together as the sun set outside, tearing feverishly through page after page of spells, hidden from each other by huge piles of dusty old books. Hermione's heart gave a leap every time she saw the word 'water' on a page, but more often than not it was merely, 'take two pints of water, half a pound of shredded mandrake leaves, and a newt...'

"There must be something," Hermione muttered, moving a candle closer to her. Her eyes were so tired, she could barely keep them open. "They'd never set a task that was undoable."

"They have," said Ron. "Harry, just go down to the lake tomorrow, right, stick your head in, yell at the merpeople to give back whatever they've nicked and see if they chuck it out. Best you can do, mate."

"There's a way of doing it!" Hermione moaned. "There just has to be!"

She seemed to be taking the library's lack of useful information on the subject as a personal insult; it had never failed her before.

"Oh, this is no use," she glowered, snapping Weird Wizarding Dilemmas shut. "Who on earth wants to make their nose hair grow into ringlets?"

"I wouldn't mind," said Fred Weasley's voice. "Be a talking point, wouldn't it?"

Hermione, Harry, and Ron looked up. Fred and George had just emerged from behind some bookshelves.

"What are you two doing here?" Ron asked.