A/N: I know I know. I'm in trouble for not posting sooner.Retaliation will commence in the Gryffindor Common Room in 15 minutes. Bring whatever book you'd like to throw at me.

Disclaimer: Not my characters... though the story line sounds familiar.

A Nickname Earned

Had Draco and Ron been thinking clearly, they wouldn't have run full speed toward the Slytherin common room. They were known as enemies. Right now, they were not acting like enemies. In fact, if someone had seen them sprinting in the dungeon, they would have thought they were friends. It could cause big trouble if someone had seen them.

Big trouble, because someone did see them. In fact, two someone's saw them.

Sprinting down the hallway, Draco was grinning. The two someone's who saw them could not believe their eyes. They had never seen Draco grin before, and they were unsure if they'd seen correctly.

Goyle decided that it would be best if he could follow them without being seen, however he did not let Crabbe in on this plan in time.

"Oi, Malfoy!" cried Crabbe, stepping out from the shadows. "What do you think you're doing?" Goyle cursed under his breath, and joined Crabbe in the dungeon hall. They were both glowering menacingly.

Both Ron and Draco stopped in their tracks at the sight of the Slytherin cronies. Draco's grin was gone, and for once, he could not think of some way to get out of this situation. Draco plastered his mask of indifference on his face, hoping to be able to buy some time before having to answer. He was still racking his brain for an explanation when Ron spoke.

"You will not address Mr. Malfoy in that way, lackey," Ron said, unfeelingly. Draco was just as surprised as Crabbe and Goyle. Draco snapped his head toward his new friend. He noticed Ron's face had gone blank, and he was standing rigidly next to Draco. Draco wasn't sure what was going on, but decided to play along.

"You heard the man," Draco sneered, just as Crabbe was about to retort, causing Crabbe to become confused.

Goyle glanced at Draco and then at Ron. Ron still stood rigidly, staring blankly into space. Goyle turned to Draco, "Where have you been, we've been looking for you."

Ron answered, "Mr. Malfoy has been busy. It would be in your best interest to not question the actions of someone who is doing the work of the Dark Lord."

Ron's blank face, and monotone voice was beginning to unnerve Draco, but he didn't falter. Smirking, he added to Ron's answer, "The man has a point."

Goyle looked at Ron's vacant expression for a moment, stepping closer to him and holding his gaze. Ron stared straight ahead, unseeing. Goyle pushed against Ron's chest with his fingertips, "You do not speak to me in that manner, Weasel," he threatened. Ron did not react. Because of the force of the push, he took one step back, maintaining his vacuous expression.

Goyle threw his head back and laughed. He walked toward Draco, clamping his hand on Draco's shoulder in an appreciative manner. "Malfoy, you're a genius. Imperius Curse? How'd you do it? Sneak up on him? Oh this is great. Let's get him to do something awful!"

Draco, silently thanking Ron, decided to take control of the situation. "Of course, Goyle. Why else would I be hanging around the Weasel? However, he's trying very hard to force me out, and I have a few tasks for him to do before he overcomes the spell, so our fun will have to wait."

Goyle looked disappointed for a moment, then shrugged. "Alright. But, you're a much better wizard than he is, so you should be able to repress him. We'll see you later. Come on, Crabbe."

Crabbe nodded, and retreated back toward the common room with Goyle. As they turned the corner, Goyle looked back to see Ron follow Draco toward the potions rooms, Ron's footsteps shaky and forced.

Draco opened the potions room door, and let Ron in first. He shut the door and muttered "Colloportus" locking the door behind them. Draco then collapsed in a chair, slightly shaken. "Ron?"

Ron dropped his book bag on the floor, and dropped into a chair across from Draco. He was no longer acting the part, and his expression was no longer vacant. He now wore an expression of unease. He ran his hand nervously through his hair.

"Merlin, Draco. That was a close call. What were we thinking coming down here together!" Ron was reprimanding himself as well as Draco.

"That was a brilliant bit of acting, though, Ron. I really think they bought it," Draco responded appreciatively. "I don't know what we were thinking, except that we had to get that book from my room. I completely forgot we were supposed to be enemies." Draco admitted.

Ron nodded, "I know. You're not my enemy anymore."

"Yeah, you're not either. Thanks for saving my skin." Suddenly, Draco laughed, "You know, you've now earned your nickname."

Ron looked at him questioningly.

"You can weasel your way out of anything!"

Ron looked sideways at Draco, trying to keep the grin off his face. "That's Mister Weasel to you, Draco."

February had rolled in, snowy, windy, and cold. For him, February had been a rather lonely time, but Draco wasn't about to admit that to Harry. Draco might have spent twice a week with Harry, polishing whatever it was that Dumbledore put in front of them, but their friendship remained strained.

Harry stifled a groan as he lifted his hand to polish yet another light fixture in the seventh floor hallway. In the last few weeks, he and Draco had polished every light fixture from the dungeons to the top floor. Harry wasn't about to give in and apologize to Draco for something that was not his fault.

Harry climbed down from the ladder, slowly. So slowly that Draco noticed. Harry again, tried to suppress a groan of pain as he lifted the stepladder and moved it to the next fixture down the hall. Draco watched intently, as Harry held his breath, forcing his expression of pain to remain unspoken. Harry looked at the steps on the ladder for a moment before deciding he wasn't ready to climb the steps, and instead sat on a rung and put his head in his hands.

"Think Dumbledore's going to make us polish the fixtures in the towers, too?" Draco asked.

Harry raised his head; surprised that Draco spoke in a somewhat friendly tone. Or at least, not a sarcastic tone. Harry shook his head in response, and muttered, "I haven't the foggiest, Draco."

Draco nodded, reaching for the torchiere glass shade he had set on the floor earlier. Draco watched Harry for a moment, debating with himself. Would he or wouldn't he ask why Harry was in so much pain? Draco sighed. "Are you in pain, Harry? Is it from your training?"

Harry was surprised, but didn't have the energy to lift his head to question Draco on how he knew about the training. Harry grunted what sounded like an affirmative, but didn't elaborate.

Draco, as if reading Harry's mind, responded to his unasked question. "Ron accidentally told me you and Hermione were training. He wanted to know why I wasn't in on it since we're supposed to be working together."

Harry had expected Draco's words to be laced with sarcasm. There was none. There was, however, a small twinge of bitterness in his voice. Harry knew Draco was still upset at being blocked from Synaesthetic communication. Harry raised his eyes to Draco, who was replacing the lamp glass.

Harry concentrated, trying to speak to Draco, without actually speaking. He felt barricaded, and he smiled. "Been practicing your Occlumency, Draco?"

Draco froze with his hands up on the light fixture. Harry had tried to access his mind? How come I didn't feel it? Am I supposed to be able to tell when some one tries? Draco turned slowly to face Harry, his expression unreadable. Harry braced himself, expecting a harsh response.

Draco surprised him by shrugging, and non-chalantly responded, "Someone chided me once for not practicing. I've been doing much better this last week."

Harry smiled at Draco's response, "Right. Well, it looks like we're done here. I have some… things to complete before bed." Harry rose quickly, vanishing the stepladder he was sitting on before moving quickly, yet painfully, down the hallway.

Draco watched him go, knowing he was going to train, an empty feeling beginning to come over him. He just didn't know how to make the feeling go away.

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