It was a Tuesday night in mid-November. Hermione Granger was at her regular table in the library doing research for a potions paper. Slughorn had assigned three rolls of parchment on the use of hippogriff heart.

Her seventh year had been different, severely different compared to her last seven. Hermione and everyone else who had not completed their last year at Hogwarts had returned to do so, and after spending a year on the run, Hermione was glad to be back where she could count on a warm shower daily. Since her return though a lot of the excitement surrounding her role in the defeat of Voldemort had died away, she (unlike Ron) refused to glorify the event through such bombastic retelling.

Hermione gave a frustrated sigh as she closed one book and moved onto the next one in the endless pile that surrounded her. Harry and Ron were at Quidditch practice, so they would not doubt be up all night using Hermione and her paper for "inspiration."

"Are you alright Hermione?" asked Neville who was seated one table away.

"Yes Neville, I'm just spent. I just don't care, I can't go back to being the same old know it all Hermione that's not who I am anymore."

"Well after last year, no one could expect you to just pick up right where you left off as if nothing has happened. Maybe you need to find something to ease your mind—help you relax."

"You're right Neville," said Hermione, gathering all her books, "I probably just need to rest, it may just be senioritis." With that said, Hermione left the library and a confused Neville who was very worried as to whether this "senioritis" was contagious.

Hermione entered the Heads common room, threw her bag down and headed for the couch. Hermione lay down and was soon lost in her thoughts. She didn't hear the portrait hole slam shut, nor the footsteps of her fellow head.

"Merlin Granger, you were always a dog, but today you look especially putrid," sneered Draco Malfoy, who was starring down at the pensive Hermione.

"Oh, sod off Malfoy. I'm really not in the mood for your childish games right now," replied Hermione, rather annoyed.

Hermione made to get up, but Malfoy pushed her back down and climbed on top.

"Now really mudblood, you'll play whatever game I decide. I'm in control here."

"Let go of me, you useless ferret," yelled Hermione, who was now pinned under the weight of the Slytherin seeker. Malfoy leaned down, his lips grazing her ear, as his warm breath sent tingles all throughout the defenseless girl underneath him.

"Call me Draco and I'll consider letting you go."

"Fine, Draco, let me go!"

"No, I don't quite feel like it," said Draco placing a kiss on her neck and slowly working his way up to her mouth. "Why would I ever dream of letting the most beautiful girl in the whole school get away from me, I am a Malfoy I deserve the best and you just happen to be that." Draco's lips met hers and he kissed her slowly, and then worked his way into her mouth all the while his hands were tangled in her hair enjoying the sensation.

Draco broke away and starred down at his lover, taking pleasure at the sight of her swollen lips as his hands roamed relearning the curves he had come to know so well.

"Draco I think you might be just what the doctor ordered," said Hermione "now if only my school work could get me this excited my senioritis would be cured."

Draco just laughed and continued with their make-out session removing all thoughts of hippogriff heart from Hermione's mind.