But now, Hermione was stirred. Her loins were waking up after a slumber. The rampantly flowing sexual ideas of Harry quickly pooled a wetness in Hermione's knickers. It was utterly inappropriate and she flushed with the mortification of it. Hermione felt the dampness with slight self-disdain. What if anyone found out? Or picked up on the scent, the aroma of her arousal? The shame would be unbearable.