The entirety of the Hog’s Head’s clientele heard her climax, a mortified little voice in the back of her head said. The version of Hermione who could no longer differentiate between right and wrong while laying in that bed under Malfoy’s ministrations did not care one bit about who heard and who didn’t. He eased up on the pressure, gently planting butterfly kisses on every bit of sensitive skin he could until Hermione was twitching and, to her own horror, getting wetter still. 