She should just keep going, Hermione supposes. Get it all over with quickly, rather than draw it out. She would ask Malfoy what he would prefer, but he is rather too busy making anguished sounds into the bed. Sweat breaks out under her armpits and on her forehead, hot at the nape of her neck and above her upper lip, and she apologises as she bathes his back in alcohol, and listens to his screams. She tells him to hold on. That it won't take much longer. That he's doing so well.