Draco's solution to this bulging, straining, hearth-sick problem called 'Hermoine'?
He moved out.
At least, he tried to.
He began hanging out with his Slytherin mates in their common room until it was Lights Out, then nonchalantly suggesting that he may as well sleep in what would have been his bed had not the gods of Fate conspired against him. This worked for a few nights until Professor Snape, who had chosen that moment to fully return to his senses, enquired as to whether he should inform Draco's father of his apparent demotion from Head Boy to general riff-raff, as that was the only reason he could fathom as to why Draco was suddenly living in the Slytherin Dorm.
Scowling, Draco tried the Observatory.
After one frigid, sleepless night, he decided that perhaps the Observatory was best tried when it was summer. Or maybe not, considering Scottish summer weather could euphemistically be described as 'bracing' at the best of times.
So, off he trudged to the Quidditch changing rooms.
Quidditch changing rooms
Early one morning
Harry Potter clattered into the changing room, mind full of complicated Quidditch strategies, when he was disturbed, in all the ways, by a lump of moving blanket on top of a changing bench that had been cunningly transfigured into a camp bed of sorts.
Whipping out his wand, he barked "Hey! Whoever you are, get your stuff and move on!"
Eventually the blankets unfurled, revealing the head of a tired, tousled and very grumpy Head Boy.
Harry was astonished. "Malfoy?" he gasped. "What the hell are you doing here?"
Draco rubbed his eyes and sat up, revealing a topless upper body. "Could ask the same of you," he croaked. He fished around under his blanket for a flask, drew it out and took a massive gulp. Steam poured from his ears.
"I'm here because I've got an early team practice organised before breakfast," Harry replied. "The rest will be here at some point."
Draco grumbled and took another swig of potion. His former Slytherin Quidditch team mates wouldn't be caught dead practising before breakfast. Gods, he missed them.
Draco finally eyeballed Harry, who realised that despite the Pepper-Up potion, he still looked like hell. "I can't sleep in the Heads' Dorm," he muttered. "But there's precious few other places I can sleep, either."
Harry furrowed his brows. "Why? Is it too draughty?"
"No," Draco rolled his eyes, hesitated, realised Potter might actually prove useful for once, and blurted out "Have you slept with Granger before?"
Harry's eyes bulged. "You wha'?" he demanded angrily.
"Not 'had sex with,'" Draco snapped. "I meant 'slept in the same room with.'"
Oh. "Occasionally," Harry replied cautiously. "During sleepovers at each other's houses."
"Did she ever sleepwalk on those occasions?"
My word, Harry was being buffeted by surprises today. And it was only just past six in the morning.
"'Course not! Harry expostulated. "Are you mad?"
"Could be," Draco sighed. "But this is the gods-honest truth: ever since we moved into the Heads' Dorm, she's been sleepwalking… into my bedroom."
Harry sat down. It seemed best in the circumstances.
"I haven't been able to sleep for most of the year so far because of her." Plus one or two other reasons he wasn't going to confess to Granger's best mate, lest he end up getting punched in the face. Potter was such a pugilist at times.
"Well… shit." Harry's eloquence had gone for a walk.
"I've tried to talk to her, but she thinks I'm winding her up. I've tried barricading my room but that's against the rules. I gave up Quidditch, for gods' sake, to spend the extra hours catching up on sleep. I've tried sleep potion, and I'm not going there again. I don't know what else to fucking do but find other places to sleep!"
Draco closed his mouth, wondering why he was confessing all to this bird's-nest-haired twit.
"Um… do you want me to talk to her?" Harry ventured.
Draco shook his head. "She'll know that I spoke to you, then she'll hunt me down until the end of days." Draco set his bare feet on the floor. "But… thanks for listening, I guess."
Harry nodded. "Well, the team's going to start wandering in soonish, so…"
"Yeah, yeah, yeah." Draco flung the blankets away, and stood up, nude. He stretched his arms and wandered into the showers, scratching his armpits.
Harry took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes free of that unwelcome vision. Then he started getting changed himself.
Just after breakfast
Draco, feeling rather refreshed, despite being woken up rather earlier than he would have liked, sauntered along the corridor to Transfiguration class, when a hand seemed to materialise out of nowhere, clamped onto his shirt collar, and yoinked him into a storage closet.
This was, in fact, not the first time Draco had been kidnapped by a daring damsel and stuffed into a closet for a few moments' stolen time of Hide the Sausage, but when his eyes adjusted to the tiny room's dim light, he was rather taken aback to discover that his kidnapper was none other than the Head Girl.
Who looked terrible.
Draco's mouth fell open, but Hermione got in first. "Where in the everlasting fuck have you been the last few nights?" she demanded, swishing her wand about in order to silence the conversation from passers-by.
Draco tried for brazenness. "I have a social life, you know," he drawled, winking.
"Cut the crap," Hermione snapped. "I've been worried sick about you! All bloody year you've been acting oddly. Now you're finding other places to sleep? Crooks misses you! He's pining and lost his appetite!"
Draco was rather sorry to hear the beastie had been pining, but… "To be fair, he could do with a diet," he suggested.
Hermione shoved him in the sternum. Rather hard. "What the hell is wrong with you?" she roared, eyes ablaze, nostrils flared, lip curled. Then in less than a second, her fire and ire disappeared and she looked haunted. "Is it me?" she whispered.
Draco longed to wrap her in a reassuring hug, but her moods were rather swingy at the moment.
Should he try one more time?
"Could we please talk about your sleepwalking" –
Nope.
Hermione scoffed and folded her arms. "For the last time, Malfoy, I do not sleepwalk!"
Draco folded his own arms. "Have you been getting enough sleep lately?"
Hermione's gaze wandered over his shoulder. "Not that it's any of your business, but the last few nights have been a bit rough. The weather's changing, that must be it."
She focused on his face again. "Are we going to have a civilised conversation that does not include the word 'sleepwalking?'
Draco was stony-faced. "Nope."
"Fine."
With that, Hermione wrenched the door open and sailed out.
Draco remained in place, feeling the last tendrils of Hermione's scent leave the area.
When Granger sleepwalked, he got bad sleep.
When he wasn't around or Granger couldn't get to him, she got bad sleep.
A cold wave of certainty wrapped around him.
He knew how to solve the problem called 'Hermione.'
That night
He returned to the Heads' Dorm, to be met by a frosty Hermione and joyous Crookshanks. He went to bed early, and woke when Hermione stood in his bedroom.
Half-asleep, he pulled the bedcovers open, and held out his hand.
Hermione walked to his bed and climbed in.
She lay on her side, her hair tumbling across the pillow.
He moved behind her, wrapping her in his warm arms.
She clasped one of his hands in her own and held it.
Breathing in her scent, he fell into a deep sleep.
Morning
Hermione slowly opened her eyes. She felt so refreshed, so warm.
But something seemed to be weighing her down…
An arm was draped across her waist.
She stilled, and slowly followed the arm with her eyes until it reached the shoulder, neck and head of the sleeping owner.
Draco Malfoy?
"DRACO MALFOY?" she shrieked and leapt out of bed.
"What the hell?" – Draco snapped awake and accio'd his wand.
"How DARE you drag me into your filthy, disgusting bed!" Hermione yelled, practically hopping from one foot to the other with rage.
Draco sat up and leaned against the bedframe. "Firstly," he snapped, "my bed is not filthy and disgusting, and secondly, you came to me last night! As you have done nearly every bloody night this school year!"
Hermione clutched her curly hair and shrieked "I am NOT a sleepwalker!"
"Yes, you are!"
"No, I'm not!"
"How do you think you got in here?"
"You came and got me, obviously!"
"How did I get into your bedroom?"
Hermione paused. "I… I don't know, but you must have managed it somehow!"
Draco threw up his hands. "Granger," he snarled, "get the fuck out of my room before I lose my temper."
Hermione looked at his ice-cold eyes and clenched jaw. He wasn't kidding.
She turned towards his door, then stopped and swivelled around.
"Did…" she coughed and tried again. "Did we have sex?" she asked.
Draco glared at her. "I would never, ever, have sex with someone who is asleep," he growled. "I'm not a criminal."
"I…" Hermione had no words to say.
She turned and left.
Draco watched the greying dawn gradually lighten his room.
A/N: apologies to Scottish readers for sassing your weather! The final chapter should be next.