Draco Malfoy was an addict. He was addicted to smart mouths, messy hair, perfect honeyed brown eyes, and getting his arse kicked at every test he'd ever taken at Hogwarts. He had to be, otherwise his current actions made no sense whatsoever.
No Slytherin worth his or her salt would be caught dead in a tower of any kind at night (they had their own make-out spots, thank you very much) unless it was for Astronomy or some crazy Divinations lesson and so for Draco to be idling behind a tapestry of griffins fighting on the seventh floor about ten feet away from the Fat Lady's portrait, it was clearly the act of a desperate man.
His normally perfectly coiffed blond hair hung in damp strands that he kept pushing back and his heart felt like it was going to come out of his chest. He had no plan, no backup, no clear idea of what he planned to do should he be caught out after curfew, especially by an unfriendly Gryffindor prefect or Merlin's balls, McGonagall herself, he just knew that six years of longing had finally come to a head an hour earlier when he'd thrown down his quill in disgust and snuck out of the Slytherin dormitory to begin his mad journey.
Madness, that must be what he was feeling. He could definitely claim insanity at his trial, or when his father heard about this. Oh yes, Lucius Malfoy would never let him live to see a trial. The heir of the Malfoy clan, dead gone over a mudblood! It was ludicrous.
Complete, bugging, stark raving mad.
Draco giggled quietly and waited.
Harry's curiosity was definitely roused. He'd tried putting the Map away, but he kept using lumos to check and see if the Draco dot had moved, and it hadn't, not for at least an hour. He crawled carefully out of bed and made his way downstairs to the common room where he saw a familiar head curled up in front of the fire.
"Hermione, what are you doing awake?"
"Draco's outside," she said calmly.
He blinked at her response and dropped onto the couch beside her.
"Er, how do you know that?" was the brilliant response he came up with.
She laughed. "Well, for one, he's not very sneaky. He's been giving me less stink eye and more crush eye for about a month now. It's fairly obvious." Hermione said, giving him a look.
Harry bristled. "To you, maybe. I'll get my cloak and we can –" He stopped when she got up.
"You can stay here," she said firmly. "I will deal with Draco on my own."
The usual protests followed, but a few minutes later only one person was going out the portrait hole, shielded by the invisibility cloak – and it wasn't Harry.