At this rate, Lucio’s portrait would take much longer than hers or Draco’s had. She didn’t care, even if it put Martin at greater risk. She found Martin, freshly arrived into the manor, barely setting up his things. There was no time to tell him they had as much time as they wanted. Hermione took his arm, dragged him behind some bookshelves and pushed him up against them, her breaths heavy and hot, her body burning for attention.