Stress has been known to wreak all kinds of havoc on the body. Hermione Granger prided herself in her ability to juggle a million responsibilities and not suffer the consequences. Needless to say, being bedridden in St. Mungo's was definitely not in her daily planner, and for her illness to be stultus magicae was just plain embarrassing.

Stultus magicae: literal translation "stupid magic". From all the research she had done, Hermione concluded that basically her overload of stress had caused a slip in her control over her magic allowing for boughts of explosive magic similar to a child's accidental magic. No one could really blame her for being overstressed. Recently divorced, the new head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and having to deal with all the Post War reconstruction was enough to drive any woman crazy.

Her symptoms hadn't even been that difficult to handle. In fact, they'd started out somewhat comical. Her hair would change color when she sneezed, random objects around her would levitate, and the air around her smelled like peanut butter when she was frustrated, which was always. Harry thought the whole situation was hilarious, and Hermione agreed up until her spells started doing the opposite of what she intended. Poor Crookshanks was still waterlogged and bitter over the drying charm she'd attempted last week. So, being finally fed up with the whole thing, she checked herself into St. Mungo's for treatment.

"Miss Granger?" Her nurse – Sarah was it? – poked her head in through the doorway to see if she was awake. Seeing Hermione sitting up and smiling at her, she smiled back and entered the room. "We have a calming drought for you to take, but other than that the only thing we can recommend is a vacation to reduce your stress." Sarah placed a vial on the side table. "With enough relaxation your magic should be back to normal fairly quickly."

Hermione downed the blue liquid and cringed at the disgusting taste. "Thanks for your help. I'm sure the potion will be enough."

Sarah made a face of doubt and opened her mouth to protest, but Hermione was already out the door muttering to herself about being behind schedule. She briskly made her way through the maze-like hallways seemingly on autopilot after spending so much time there. Checking herself out at the front desk, she made her way to the apparition point inside the hospital. The calming drought had already taken effect, surely she wasn't too stressed to apparate. With a "pop!" St. Mungo's was gone.

Hermione landed with a soft "oomph" face down on a cushioned surface that was most definitely not her apartment floor. Raising her head, she had time to acknowledge she was in a bed – not her bed – before an arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her against something warm and solid. Dread settling in her stomach, Hermione lifted her head again and caught sight of white blond hair and sharp facial features. She let out a muffled shriek causing the person next to her to snap open their eyes. Sealing her fate, the eyes were storm grey and stared at her in confusion.

Hermione began to try to move away stuttering apologies and looking anywhere but Draco Malfoy's bare chest. "I'm so sorry I didn't – I was at – but then the stress – and I thought the calming drought would – but I should've – Oh Merlin!"

Draco groaned and buried his face further into his pillow, not moving his arm from her waist. "Granger," Hermione stopped moving. "Stop squirming and shut it already. It's too early for this, sort out your horrendous sense of direction later."

Hermione's body began to relax inch by inch as Draco began a light snoring again. Shifting to be more comfortable, Draco pulled her tighter against him. Hermione sighed, "Well, shite."