Disclaimer: I. Own. Nothing. Excerpts of this chapter come directly from JK Rowling's Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince

XXXV. Minuscule Affection

Draco woke in a foul mood the next day. He'd tossed and turned all night, unable to quiet his thoughts about the task set before him by the Dark Lord. It now seemed especially daunting without the aid of the Liquid Luck that Saint Potter had won. And since when had Potter gotten so good at Potions? He watched the Golden Quartet squabble through breakfast, Granger left early for Herbology in a huff. By the time Potions rolled around, Arabella seemed frayed. She slid silently into the seat next to Draco, resting her head in her hand until the class began. Slughorn notably avoided their table whenever possible, even going so far to comment on everyone's potion but Arabella's. And, yet again, Potter out-performed the rest of class, including both Ari and Granger, to the delight of Slughorn and the confusion of everyone else. Had Snape really just sabotaged his least favorite student during the past five school years? Or was something else going on? As Slughorn once again praised Potter's potion making skills ("you're a wonder, m'boy! Such unbridled talent, I've not seen!") Arabella sighed heavily and began packing her bag.

"What's that about?" Draco asked her quietly, noting her sagging shoulders and pinched expression.

"Harry's good at Potions, I guess," she said, her eyes pointedly not meeting his.

"I'm pretty sure he could suck at Potions and ol' Sluggy would call him Wonder Boy," Zabini scoffed from beside Draco.

"And I'm pretty sure I could out-perform everyone, and he'd still find a way to ignore me," Arabella said, scooping up her bag and making a swift exit.

333

The following day greeted them with a morning of double Defense Against the Dark Arts. Draco left breakfast early to ensure he was at the front of the line to enter the classroom, thereby ensuring his preferred seat in the back. The Golden Quartet waltzed up just as Snape opened the door to allow the students in. Ari was poring over a book with Granger, talking animatedly about an assignment for Ancient Runes. Draco took his seat, slinging his book bag onto the back of his chair and turning to watch what was going on at the back of the classroom. Quite uncharacteristically, Snape was lingering in the center aisle of the classroom, supervising the students filter in, his arms crossed in front of his body. When the Golden Quartet entered, he allowed Potter and Weasley to pass, but intercepted the Gryffindor girls by moving to stand directly in their path. Granger and Arabella finally looked up from the text they were translating. Snape silently, but emphatically, directed Arabella to the open seat beside Draco. She paused, her body language clear in her frustration, but did as she was expected to. Granger snapped her textbook shut with a huff and continued past the Potions Master. From halfway across the room, Potter sent them a confused look.

"Take a seat, Mr. Potter, and mind your own business. Or you will find yourself with another detention," Snape drawled as he made his way to the front.

Arabella motioned that she would explain later, but Potter's gaze lingered. With a smirk, Draco moved his arm to rest on the back of Arabella's chair, leaning back casually. Granger, sending an expression of disgust his way, pulled Potter back to the front of the room as Snape began his lecture.

333

That first Saturday morning of the term dawned clear and cool. Draco woke early, dressed contentedly in the silence of the dorm, and slipped out of the Slytherin common room without meeting another living soul; however, the Bloody Baron was lingering about, the sound of his footsteps echoing down the hallway. As he ascended the stairs to the Entrance Hall, Draco pulled his Slytherin Quidditch sweatshirt over his head. As he adjusted the hood around his neck, he looked up to see Arabella descending one of the staircases, pulling her hair into a ponytail.

"Good morning," she whispered, stifling a yawn.

"Good morning."

They made their way to the Quidditch pitch, the matching shoes his mother had given them falling into a perfect rhythm. The silence of the morning was comfortable, and Draco was glad Arabella didn't feel the need to fill it. When they reached the first row of bleachers, Arabella stopped to stretch.

"You don't need to wait for me. You know I run slowly," she said as she balanced on one leg to stretch her quad.

"It's fine," he said. And when she gave him a skeptical look he continued, "I want to."

She gazed at him as she continued stretching, and when she finished she approached him warily, "Can I just…?" she asked timidly as she reached up and combed her fingers through his hair. "Your hair is sticking straight up in the back, here."

"Thanks," he said, catching her hand as she pulled away he kept her close. Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, he discovered she was wearing earrings shaped like Snitches. He fiddled with one, jealousy bubbling up at the knowledge of who had given them to her. Instead of lingering at the thought, he gave the hand he still held a gentle squeeze, which she returned with a tight smile.

They ran around the pitch for nearly an hour. At some point, it began to drizzle, but they pressed on. When they agreed to stop running, they walked another lap to cool down, slowing to do some active stretching along the way. The hair that had fallen from Ari's ponytail had begun to curl into small ringlets from the rain and sweat. When she slowed to a stop back at the bleachers, Draco couldn't help but play with one, curling it around his finger and pulling at it gently to see it spring back into place.

"What's your plan for the rest of the day?" she asked.

"Shower. Food. Library. More food. Bed. You?"

"Same. Plus detention with Snape."

"Oh yeah, I forgot about that."

"I'm dreading it."

"It's not bad if he likes you," he responded. At her worried look he assured her, "Which he does, Arabella. It'll be fine."

They began walking back to the castle.

"Have you heard from our fathers?" she asked, her nerves still showing.

"No...have you?"

"No, which has me worried."

Draco nodded in understanding. He'd also expected a nasty letter about her receiving detention so early in the term. Surely his father would find some way to make it Draco's fault.

"It'll be fine," Draco repeated, holding open the door to the Entrance Hall for her.

Arabella looked up at him skeptically as she entered, "Easy for you to say."

He scoffed as he watched her walk away. How wrong she was, he thought to himself as he held his left forearm. He wasn't sure anything would ever be fine again.

333

It didn't take long for the 6th year students to realize that, despite having passed their O. , and having another year before having to worry about the impending N.E. , this year was going to be just as challenging. Mountains of homework followed them from class to the library to their dormitories, and even, occasionally, into the Great Hall. In between studying for classes, Draco stole away to the library to research cursed necklaces, like the one he'd seen in Borgin and Burkes, and Vanishing Cabinets. He had not yet discovered where the faculty had hidden the Vanishing Cabinet that Montague had been stuffed in before finding himself transported to London and then back to the Hogwarts toilets, so Draco decided to focus on other methods for carrying out the Dark Lord's task.

When Arabella slid into her permanently designated seat next to Draco in Defense Against the Dark Arts on Monday, she seemed cheery enough.

"How'd detention go?" Draco dared to ask.

Arabella let out a sound that was somewhere between a groan and sigh.

"That good, huh?" Draco teased.

"I mean, it was fine. It could have been way worse, really. He had me write letters home."

"Letters?" Draco asked, emphasizing the plural.

"Yes. To Father. To your father. To your mother."

"A little unorthodox," Draco shrugged. "Sounds simple enough."

"But tortuous for me," Arabella gave a guilty, sideways grin.

They quieted down as lecture began, but when instructed to pair up to practice nonverbal spells for the last ten minutes of class, Draco made sure he was paired with Arabella. As they went back and forth casting and blocking spells silently, they carried on a whispered conversation.

"So what does one write to the Dark Lord, then?" Draco asked, ready to block any spell she sent his way.

"Exactly my point. It was tortuous," Arabella repeated, taking a deep breath before refocusing. This time silver light darted from her wand, soaring towards Draco's stomach. He blocked it quite easily.

"Well done!" he said, before pretending to send her a hex and "failing" for show. He could very well reveal he'd been doing nonverbal spells all summer. "But what did you end up writing about?"

She didn't respond, her eyes furrowed and jaw set, she was obviously focused instead on readying herself for the next blow. This time he sent her the Ebublio Hex, bright pink sparks spurting from his wand. With a wand motion that was perhaps a little dramatic, she successfully blocked it.

She straightened up, looking smug, "School mostly. I told him we spent the morning together in hopes he'd have mercy on me and not send a Howler.

When class ended a few moments later, they lingered as usual to discuss their first week of classes with Snape. Arabella had very little to report.

"The only reason you two didn't lose House points today was because you were successfully casting non-verbals," Snape drawled as they took their seats in front of his desk. "Perhaps a little less talking during class next time?"

"Shouldn't you be pleased we're being chummy?" Arabella asked what Draco didn't dare.

"I didn't say I wasn't pleased, I just said you shouldn't talk during class. Would you like another detention, Miss Riddle?"

She sighed, "No, sir."

"Very well," he turned to Draco. "Anything to report?"

Their meeting was brief, as not much had transpired since Snape had seen them last. He was certain, since Potter had miraculously dodged detention on Saturday, that Arabella had had plenty of time to update him on anything over the weekend, which explained why they were both dismissed simultaneously.

"These are for you," Snape handed them each an envelope as they departed. "I'll see you in class tomorrow."

They both shuffled into the hallway to open their letters. Draco was somewhat pleased Ari didn't just bounce away, instead leaning against a windowsill to regard her letter. Draco leaned a shoulder against the wall facing her to do the same. As he expected, his father had found a way to spin Arabella receiving detention on the first day of classes as being Draco's fault. He should have controlled her better, apparently. Draco rolled his eyes. That, plus his lack of invitation to Slughorn's first dinner party ("How did he even know about that?" Draco thought to himself) meant the entire letter was a formal reprimand, a stern warning, and a demand for better performance, all rolled into one. He heaved a sigh and looked up to find Arabella regarding him with an annoyed look. She held out her letter to him, which he took, handing his own over.

If Draco thought Lucius' letters seemed harsh and unloving, it was nothing next to the Dark Lord's letter to his daughter. Merciless in content, in contained no fewer than three threats of various types, six veiled insults to her intelligence and worth, and one shining command for her to be "collected" by Slughorn as soon as possible...or else. It was so unnecessarily cruel, Draco was actually sort of surprised she hadn't been crying as she handed it over.

"Merlin, they are a pair, aren't they?" she sighed heavily, handing Draco his letter back. He moved to hand hers back to her, but she put up her hands, "No please, burn it. If I never read it again it'll be too soon."

"But don't you need to be reminded that if he hadn't seen the paternity test himself, he'd sincerely doubt you had a drop of Pureblood worth running through your veins?"

"Ugh, that's an insult no matter how you look at it. I'm not a Pureblood, but if I were, I'd be a disgrace; and, as it is, I'm a disgrace anyway...soooo, yeah."

Draco put the tip of his wand to the parchment, "Incendio."

After they watched the letter burn, Draco added, "No one needs that negativity."

Using the tip of his wand he blew the ashes out the window. Regarding Arabella again, he noticed that perhaps the letter had affected her more than he'd originally thought. Her eyes were brimming with tears. When one sprung loose, Draco reached out to wipe it gently from her cheek, he used the same motion to tuck the hair she was hiding behind so that it was secured behind her ear. "You know, you're every bit worthy to me."

Much to his surprise she leaned into his hand as his words seem to precipitate a cascade of more tears. He cupped the side of her neck behind her ear and guided her head to his shoulder, wrapping his other arm around her to pull her close. Relaxing into him, she heaved a great sob.

He rubbed circles on her back until she was calm, whispering all the reasons she was so worthy, all the reasons that, to him, she was priceless. Her breathing calmed and she pulled back to face him.

"Thanks Draco," she said with a sad smile as she wiped her face, hiding her red-rimmed eyes once more behind curtains of her hair. He could tell she was embarrassed so he stepped back and regarded his letter once more.

"Well it seems our fathers agree on one thing," Draco said as he started down the hallway, Arabella trailing slightly by his side. "We must get collected by Slughorn, and we must go to Hogsmeade together."

"No surprise there," Arabella agreed. "Can we go to that soup shop again?"

Draco grinned, "Of course."

"Very well, it's a date."

And before Draco could ponder the phrase much further, she had skipped off in the direction of Gryffindor Tower.

333

Draco decided to sneak down to the Quidditch Pitch to watch the Gryffindor tryouts on Saturday morning. The only person he told was Blaise, because Draco knew that he was the only Slytherin Arabella actually liked. They'd agreed not to wear any Slytherin colors, but rather don regular neutral-colored robes, so as not to draw attention to themselves. Draco made it clear that he'd actually prefer if Arabella got through the entire tryout without ever realizing he was there.

"What are you doing here?" Draco heard a voice from behind him as he took his seat. He turned to see Granger sitting with a few of the other Gryffindor girls. She was wearing all Gryffindor gear—hat, scarf, gloves, everything. Her bushy hair was squashed beneath her knit cap, but the ends came billowing out into the breeze, frizzy and unruly as ever.

"Probably the same thing you are," Draco supplied. "I'm here to support my friend."

"Is that all? Or can we expect another round of Weasley is Our King?"

Draco shook his head and turned back to the pitch, "I'm only here for Arabella," he called over his shoulder, scanning the crowd for the golden-hair witch.

"It's Bella," Granger said with a humph, obviously unable to find fault with his reason for being there.

It took a while for Draco to find Arabella among the sea of Gryffindor Quidditch Team hopefuls. Half the house seemed to have turned up, from first years nervously clutching old school brooms, to seventh years towering over the rest. Arabella wasn't exactly tall, but he found her as soon as he found the red-headed Weasleys. She was bent over chatting with Weaslette.

Potter was obviously the new Captain. He called attention to the group with a whistle. In a smart move, he started everyone with a basic test, asking everyone to divide into teams of ten to fly around the pitch. The first couple groups either dissolved into giggles or couldn't properly mount a broom to begin with. The fifth group was made up of Hufflepuffs.

"If there's anyone else here who's not from Gryffindor," roared Potter, who was obviously annoyed, "leave now, please!"

There was a pause as a couple Ravenclaws made a hasty departure, snorting with laughter. Draco and Blaise couldn't help but chuckle, too.

When at last the trial for Chasers was up, Arabella was put up against ten other applicants, half of which weren't entirely worthy. Weaslette was the only one who outflew her, scoring only two goals more than Ari, who, meanwhile, was small, fast, and particularly good at dodging Bludgers. Katie Bell rounded out the group, returning to the team after an excellent trial as well.

After a short deliberation, Blaise and Draco agreed to stay and watch the rest of the trial. Once the team had been announced, which, much to everyone's surprise, included Ron Weasley as Keeper, they stood to leave. Granger brushed past them in a hurry to go congratulate Weasley, in particular.

"Well done, Bella!" Blaise called from the stands.

She sidled over looking puzzled and a bit embarrassed, "What are you two doing here?"

"We came to see you fly!" Blaise said, as if it were obvious and he was offended by the question in the first place. With an ease only Blaise could pull off, he pulled her into a congratulatory hug.

"We wanted to be here to support you. You flew brilliantly," Draco said.

She turned to him with a smile and casually took up his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze "Really? Thank you, guys. It means a lot to me."

"We wouldn't miss it," he said, a lump forming in his throat.

Her teammates were calling her back, so she was forced to make her excuses, but with one more thank you and a dazzling smile, she made her departure. But, before she hurried away, she turned back and placed a small kiss on Draco's cheek.

Once she was out of earshot, Blaise cleared his throat in a teasing manner. Draco, without turning to look at his friend, and knowing his usually pale complexion was likely a little bit pink responded, "Not a word, Zabini," before turning to make his way back up to the castle.

333

Just after dinner, Draco returned to the Slytherin dormitory to grab his books. Malachi was pecking at the window to be let in, a letter strapped to his foot. He let out a sigh of relief when he saw his mother's handwriting.

Draco,

It will surely hit the Evening Prophet. We have been subject to a search by the Ministry today. The Weasley patriarch's department. Apparently there was some sort of anonymous tip. Your father is furious, understandably. He blames Arabella. I'm skeptical.

Find out the truth before you jump to conclusions. Listen, and be kind.

You know who we all answer to.

Your loving mother

Draco ripped the bottom edge of the letter off, scrawling a note. He strapped it to Malachi's leg, "Take this to Arabella, Gryffindor Tower."

He gave the bird a treat as he let him back out the tunnels from the dungeonous dormitory. Grabbing his book bag, he smoothed down his robes and took a few deep breaths before departing. His note had been succinct, but he'd hoped its urgency had been clear:

Astronomy Tower. NOW.