Title: For the First time
Author: Mabu
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Romance, Angst, Humor.
Warnings: Time-Traveling fiction.
Disclaimer: Property of JK Rowling. Quotes from the book may be repeated in here since time is turning.
Author's note:

Chapter Three: They Call

Alastor Moody was involved as a huge catalyst in Draco's dream that night. A nightmare lived in the recesses of his mind and it wasn't until the past memory touched his dreams that he became aware of the day he had been turned into a ferret and was treated to a great course of foul humiliation by a teacher-in-disguise. He realised it hadn't happened at all. After all, he hadn't gone to Ron Weasley with his father's demotion from the Ministry and taunted him about it the previous afternoon like the last time. What had happened that day didn't take place at all this time.

The day was gone now without Draco suffering at the hands of a Death Eater who was pretending to be mad and on the side of one Harry Potter. When he woke up to shake off the laughter still echoing inside his head at the recollection, he realised the reason the event had even occurred was because Draco was Potter's enemy and the Death Eater imposter was trying to get on Potter's good side, so the chance revealed itself by Draco's own actions that day. He was the perfect target, of course.

Barty Crouch Jr. wouldn't care a bit if Draco was Lucius Malfoy's son. It was all about the operation he was serving, for the Dark Lord. It was the perfect opportunity. But still, to this day, the memory of being controlled so dreadfully in front of an audience, to face the fear and the fact that he was a small, vulnerable animal in the hands of a man who would, most likely, kill him. He could see it in those disfigured eyes; the resentment and enjoyment of fooling around with a boy - a prat who knew nothing about the Dark Arts or Lord Voldemort at all. No, Draco, up until then, had been living the life of a Prince. Spoiled and too arsed to care about what others may feel, he was the embodiment of oblivious.

The respect he thought he had earned all this time in Slytherin was something influenced by his father's stand in the political and economic parts of the social world. And it was so easy, so easy now to get into that role. To just take what he was given, give just what he got back that he nearly forgot that it was him who had made consequences turn out around for him. He had chosen the losing side because it was the easy way. Now, he knew the winning side. And he wondered sometimes, what Potter would think right now if he saw Draco and his facade fall into nothing but truth. He would be damned surprised, he liked to think. But that was only be just a fantasy.

What was reality was that if he had been turned into a ferret, Potter would laugh along with others, pleased just like them that Draco was finally getting what he deserved.

He could hear the snores coming from Crabbe and Goyle's bed and gritted his teeth, thinking of how wonderful it would be if he had been dropped here fifth year, not fourth. He would have his own room, his own privacy and there would be no Mad-Eye Moody imposter. But the fact was, Voldemort had returned in fourth year. And that was all that made him stop mumbling and grumbling complaints about the time-traveling.

With shaky, bare feet touching the ground, he jumped off the bed and walked out of the dorm, pausing at the stairs. He leaned against the wall there and with deliberate slowness, he raised his right arm to the front and checked for the tell-tale mark on his skin.

At first, he thought he saw the Dark Mark still tainting his flawlessly pale skin but, when he blinked and focused, it wasn't there. He sighed in relief, pushing the arm away.

What should I do? He wondered, frustrated.

All evening, after returning from class, he had been writing plans after plans. And he had been confident they would have worked too, practically but there were always complications and risks. And when he got to pondering the purpose of his plans, he found there were too many flaws in the idea that he could walk in there and be the champion for Hogwarts. And also, because he was feeling the need to get attention now that he was here.

Dumbledore really wouldn't appreciate having two under-aged students illegally entering the tournament, nor would Igor Karkaroff or Madam Maxine, for that matter . They may have not raised debates and arguments much over Potter's admittance the last time but that was only one person illegally entering (with highly ambiguous suspicions about the boy's innocence). If there were two illegal participants, surely both of the leaders would feel most disapproving of Dumbledore. And the old wizard didn't obviously need that. What with the lack of influence his words had at the beginning of term in fifth year.

The Ministry of Magic and Cornelius Fudge obviously were too scared of what would happen if that were the case that they obviously didn't buy Dumbledore or Potter's words and sent Umbridge for some assemblance. Umbridge had been a bad idea.

Yes, Draco got power and freedom in Hogwarts during her reign of terror but she wasn't the best partner-in-crime he could ever wish for. Her habits for one, were annoying. Draco could tolerate her, like he could tolerate his Slytherin friends because that was just the way they were; nasty and evil and disgustingly smug. But honestly.

Complications didn't only just run with the Headmaster of Hogwarts, either. Serverus Snape, Draco's Godfather, would kill him if Lucius Malfoy did not. It was very easy to imagine his parents and Godfather's reaction if they found out just what Draco had gotten himself into. Sure, Draco liked to brave all tides and waves with a reckless stupidity sometimes that would even put Gryffindors to shame but his parents were the most over-protective individuals to be Death Eaters. They didn't show it; mother did, in her very subtle 'He's just a boy' way but father was very stern and subjective about things related to Malfoy pride and glory yet, even he cared.

Well, until a degree of time before the Dark Lord had returned but he realised that even before that, Lucius Malfoy had become busier and more secretive about his actions. He must have known about the operation or that Voldemort was returning. But he hadn't said a word during the tournament. The sneaky, slimy git of a father.

Sometimes, Draco liked to think that he had forgiven and forgotten everyone's mistakes and misgivings. He had convinced himself that whatever joke his father had built their lives upon, was not something he could have avoided with the way he was raised. But someone had mentioned to him that influence wasn't the only thing that mattered in a person's disposition. A person grew up and found his own answers from his own eyes. Even if Draco had been adamant on standing upon his father's belief, he had inside wondered and questioned more than thought possible but he never voiced it out loud. Defiant as he was later in the war to serve such force, he had not raised his head and met his father's steely eyes and asked- no, demanded: "Why are we doing this, father? What will come out of this?" and then, share his inner thoughts: "You will not forgive me if I say this, but I don't quite understand that creature's methods. I don't like him. Not at all. And I don't wish to serve him. He's ugly and brutal and he kills people without a reason. I don't like this cold atmosphere in my own house. I don't like him touching our treasures, our prideful jewels and throw them away without another glance. He's evil, frightening, and I don't want him in my house anymore."

Lucius Malfoy would probably kick him in the shin, disown him without another thought and walk away like he did so many times before after the Dark Lord arrived, only that time, he would walk away forever. That fear had built itself something unconditionally in his throat. He knew, from imagining that nightmare, that he would never voice out his thoughts. He would never defy his father and through him, he wouldn't defy Lord Voldemort either. After his father was dead, of course, he was able to voice out whatever he thought of the Dark Lord and his plans for the Wizarding world but, at that time, it was already too late. Potter had defeated the Dark Lord and Draco was the useless one who couldn't be a proper Death Eater nor a proper- anything! He was useless and he loathed that, detested it that whenever his name was mentioned, people regarded him as The Coward, The One Who Ran Away And Saved His Own Arse, and The One Incapable of Killing Anyone.

He was worthless and even his Potions Master saw that. Why else would he ignore Draco and teach Potter Occulmency instead? Why else would he ignore Draco after Dumbledore was killed and the Dark Lord had known about Draco's failure at the mission? Why else would he hide Potter's secrets and protect him from harm in the war, albeit subtly and with more than a lot of disdain? Draco knew the answer and knew his anger was irrational. That, it was stemmed within him to blame Potter for everything, that he would always subconsciously come back to Potter because he liked to find Potter's faults, not his good deeds or whatever else the Wizarding world worshiped in him. And he liked to hate Potter because that was better than looking at him in a new light. If he could hate Potter, he wouldn't have to think about rejection, humiliation, hope, distress, and...

He sighed, looking at the ceiling. He couldn't accept Potter. Couldn't try and admit anything because it hurt his head just thinking about it and trying to find answers while steering clear of the one area that suggested more than just- it was a big headache. He didn't want to think about. He wouldn't.

Nodding firmly to himself, he walked off downstairs, into the Common room again and stayed there just like the previous day, until the sun finally dawned in the far sky. Then, he readied himself for class, like all the other students, inside knowing that this routine was going to continue.

-0-

Herbology was mediocre against the horrors of Care of Magical Creatures but it was still one of the things Draco would cringe at. Not because of the disgusting, squelchy Bubotubers he had to squeeze the pus out of but because of the rattling complaints filling the class after Professor Sprout told them what they were supposed to do. Draco had done his fit of work on this subject already so maybe, he was less inclined to complain and he supposed it wasn't so bad with Ravenclaws and Slytherins since they weren't born whiners but after hearing the students grumbling about the Blast-Ended Skrewts in the Care of Magical Creatures class, Draco found even a bit of protest from one of the students abhorrent.

He glared down at the table during the ten minutes the students whined about their disgust and then, the class went silent and did their work, except for the occasional mewl of disgust, it was finally peace and Draco was able to do his work without a problem.

His next class, Arthmancy was with Granger who ignored him and he found himself smirking at her bushy head as she sat in front of his desk, nostalgia working its way in his head. He remembered in fourth year, his little crush (packed with a lot of denial and grudged admiration) on the book-worm. He didn't know why and how that happened but he supposed it was when she punched the snot out of him in third year when he bad-mouthed her friend, The Hippogriff. Bully that Draco Malfoy had always known to be, he was a bit of a masochist. He had later found that bit after the war when he was trying out relationships with other people. He didn't know what was there to like about people who insulted him, treated him like dirt or could probably beat him to death but it was true. He liked pain with pleasure.

Although nowadays, Granger wasn't on the top list of his supposed crushes, she was a familiar he never realized he missed until it was there. It was the same with his other former enemies. He would see Weasley, and despite his stilted opinion of the red-head, he would probably admit that he- no, never mind. He could not miss Weasley, that would be the day he decided to say he lov-

House-Elves. That would be the day I said I loved House-Elves. And that is never. He chided himself shakily, his heart in his throat, beating in an eerily erratic way. Speaking of House-Elves...

Draco glanced at Granger and smirked again. Remebering her very failed attempts at making up an Organizations for Elve Rights in fourth year, and then, the success she had after war with the same Organization that nowadays (well, in Draco's real timeline) led wizards to hardly keep House-Elves in oppressive situations anymore. They paid a respectable amount of money for a House-Elve's duties and one-by-one, the Elves were freed from slavery and doing jobs for money.

Arthmancy passed by fairly well. Professor Vector's droning lectures weren't all that bad, at least they felt reasonably nostalgic to Draco. He couldn't say such for other students who were having a hard time grasping the concepts introduced to them for the first time. Really, Professor Vector never took a break, not even on the first class.

That afternoon break, Draco took to the Great Hall in his impromptu swagger, feeling greatly relaxed now that he was getting used to the classes and the school around him. He could get the hang of it, he was sure.

"I've heard he's really good!" A student said loudly as he was passing by. He glanced at the crowd gathered around as a kid, excited, talked. "He taught the seventh-years all the really good stuff. My brother said he'd never had a better Defence teacher than Professor Moody!"

Draco didn't notice but at the mention of that imposter, his teeth clacked together in a tightened grimace. Of course. He couldn't forget that, could he? And they just had to remind him.

"Professor Moody," he scoffed to himself as he walked away. "What a pathetic wanker!"

"Boss," Draco jerked, startled to see Crabbe and Goyle standing behind him, giving him a strange look.

"What? Where did you come from?" He asked, trying not to look nervous as his heart started to calm down a bit. "Don't sneak up on me like that!"

"But Boss." Goyle started. "We were right behind you the whole time."

Draco's eyes widened in surprise. They were both giving him a worried look now. Oh shoot, he had forgotten all about his two minions.

Shit. "Oh." he said instead of the curse on the tip of his tongue. "So, what do you think of this Moody-guy?" He asked as a change of topic while also, sneaking glances behind him so that, if the Death Eater impostor was behind him, listening in than, he wouldn't hear any bad things they would most likely say.

Goyle shrugged. "Seems like a good teacher. I wouldn't know."

Of course, you wouldn't know. You're an idiot who only relies on my opinion instead of thinking on your own. Draco thought but held back the comment.

Crabbe was chewing a candy while looking uncaring. "He looks scary." were his sentiments.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I guess that's the only input I'll get from you guys." He turned around, looking at the gossiping crowd on the far wall, chattering to themselves excitedly.

"Why're you curious about him, Boss?" asked Crabbe.

Draco ignored him, instead focusing on the Golden Trio that had just now shown up. They were walking to the Great Hall, the Weasley Twins talking just like that excited kid back there, with that sparkle in their eyes. Potter was grinning at something they said and exchanged glances with Weasley. Weasley smiled like an idiot, as if imagining whatever the Twins were mentioning. Granger looked skeptical.

He jerked his head away from the sight and murmured, "C'mon." to his minions.

They followed him as he walked to the Great Hall, and reached the Slytherin table. He sighed, looking down at the table with a thoughtful grimace.

"So, how come you're not trying to torture them?" asked a voice. He looked up and saw Millicent Bulstrode leaning at the table with hands steepled together as she stared Draco down. He blinked at her. "How come you're not torturing Potter and his friends?" she repeated her question but Draco had heard her the first time.

He raised an eyebrow. "It's only been a day or two, Millie. Give them some time to get used to the air before I can pounce." she looked suspicious. Oh great. "And anyway, I'm tired of-" being beaten around everytime I confront them "- Potter and all the attention he gets. It's already enough with all these people worshiping him, why must we also fuel the fire and give him our attention when he obviously doesn't deserve them?" Millicent looked thoughtful. He decided to add. "Also, I'm damned excited about the tournament, aren't you? I mean, Durmstrang and Beauxbatons are coming to our school! Just think about all the celebrities and people coming to watch the tournament."

Queenie, who had been listening in on their conversation, smiled and Draco mentally whooped in joyous victory when she opened her mouth. "I know! The tournament is going to be so amazing. I can just imagine the Yule Ball already and oh, what will the tasks be? I hope they are dangerous." she looked excited. Draco tried to look like he was listening to her while rolling his eyes at her inside. "Of course, since that old fool of our Headmaster insisted on the tournament being safe, they couldn't be bloody dangerous. But hey, you get what you can."

Draco nodded, trying to smirk and urging her on with his eyes for her to keep going.

Millicent however, was not to be deterred. "So, Draco, are you saying that you don't hate Potter anymore?" her eyes were gleaming in mischief.

He rolled his eyes. "You know I do, Mill'. The Prat-Who-Lived has been a right pain in the arse for a long time. I just-"

"Hey guys." Pansy said, sitting beside Draco with a far too chirpier tone. He wasn't sure whether to be thankful or annoyed at her interruption so, he glanced at her curiously and then, took a double-take. Oh shit. She was smiling.

"Hey, Pansy." Queenie greeted her while Draco and Millicent goggled, startled.

She beamed at Queenie and turned to look at Draco and Millicent, that freaky fake smile still pasted on her lips. "What?"

They exchanged glances with each other and Draco shook his head, looking away, knowing guiltily the reason she was acting this way.

"You're acting strange." Apparently, Millicent didn't know. Draco tried not to groan. Pansy looked at her questioningly. "You're smiling." as if it were an insult and to Slytherins like them, it was.

Pansy frowned. "What? I can't smile?" she challenged, since there was really no a solid rule saying: 'Slytherins do not smile. We smirk, sneer, smugly grin, but we do not smile genuinely. It's just not on.' but so was there not a Guide to Slytherin House either. Draco always wanted to write that kind-of book for his upcoming House-mates. He'd be famous that way, he had thought that time. Now, maybe it was a necessity.

Millicent clearly thought Pansy couldn't smile because she frowned, crossing her arms. "No, but you always smile nastily. Like Draco. But right now, you're smiling like, I don't know, a Hufflepuff maybe?"

Pansy glared balefully at her. "I can smile anyway I like and don't you dare compare me to Hufflepuffs, you ugly cow." she then looked distastefully at Draco. "And why don't you ask Draco here what the reason for my unusual smile is, huh?" when Draco peeked a look at her, she was sneering at him and then, abruptly stood up, walking away proudly until she sat at the other end of the table.

"Well, that was weird." Millicent commented idly. She looked at Draco. "What'd you do to her?"

Draco winced. He didn't even remember what he had said to her that night, but he knew they hadn't been nice words to say to someone who was only asking how he was.

Queenie saved him. Bless her soul. "Drop it, Mill'." Millicent looked affronted at being told to stop and gave Queenie the Look. Queenie just shook her head.

"Fine." Millicent said huffily before looking over Draco's shoulder with a highly peeved expression. After a bit of silence where they stayed quiet, eating, she stood up and said: "Since you're not doing anything to those prats. I will." Draco looked at the ones she was glaring at and closed his eyes.

"Don't bother." he found himself murmuring before he could bite back the remark.

"Shut up. I'm not listening to you anymore. You've obviously gone soft in the head." Millicent said brusquely and left the Slytherin table, going for the Gryffindors.

"What's she doing?" Queenie looked wide-eyed at the back of Millie.

"Apparently, taking my place." he replied as he watched Crabbe and Goyle guiltily looking at him before following Millicent as she gestured for them.

"Huh." Queenie looked wondrous before eying Draco. "I didn't know they could do that."

Draco laughed. He couldn't help it. "Honestly, Queenie, are you sure you're a Slytherin? We always have been fighting each other to take the top. Some leaders fall, others take over them as an advantage. That's how this House works."

She blinked at his amusement, looking almost upset. "Draco..." Draco gave her a confused, questioning look. She frowned. "You'll always be our leader." she insisted. "You're a great politician, Draco. Millicent or anyone else couldn't possibly take over anything from you. You're that amazing. I'm not oblivious; I know how this House works. I've heard of the stories of how one great leader's fall would be another leader's fame. But, not in a long time have we had such a constant leader. Nobody has been able to control this House like you do. You're a fourth year and yet, even Seventh years respect you. I know Pucey almost worshiped you after that Quidditch Match with the Ravenclaws."

She was looking forward now, away from Draco and at the Gryffindor table. Draco stared at her while her attention wasn't on him and rubbed his brows. When she continued to look on, he turned to see how Millicent was doing. Mid-way, his eyes caught sight of Moody and he turned back and stared as the man looked at Potter and Millicent confront each other. There was obviously some fire going on. Draco stood up quickly, leaving the table and walking over to where Potter and Millicent were.

"Mill." His voice was hard, a lump on his throat as he glanced surreptitiously at the impostor who was still watching them with that disfigured eye, waiting for an opportunity. Millicent was still spitting insults at Potter who was glaring at her hostilely. "Mill'!" He grabbed her shoulder, making her turn around and face him. She gave him a disgusted look.

"What are you doing?" she demanded. "It's bad enough that you're not acting like our leader anymore but now, you have the gall to stop me?" she looked dangerous at the moment. Draco glanced behind her at the Trio who were watching them curiously.

"Mill', this isn't the time." he insisted. She looked disbelievingly at him, even the Trio behind her were looking vaguely the same way. "I'll get Potter and his friends later. Will you listen to me when I say that?" Shoot, he bit his tongue. He hadn't meant to say that. She was looking mildly surprised now, staring at him with that thoughtful look again.

"Perhaps." then, she noticed something at the corner of her eyes and Draco followed her look, watching as Moody came clunking away at them.

"What's going on here?" he asked gruffly, giving Millicent and Draco hard looks. Draco tensed.

"Nothing, Sir." he said briskly. "We were just leaving." he grabbed Millicent's arm and she followed easily, knowing full well that they couldn't pick up a fuss in front of a teacher. Perhaps, she realized too that Mad-Eye Moody was mad enough to hex students or maybe, Draco's words had put some impact on her.

Draco didn't drag her to the table but out of the Hall instead, and she yanked her arm away petulantly when they were outside.

"What's the deal?" she asked, looking highly confused and affronted.

"We can't do anything in front of that man." Draco explained, knowing he needed to tell her something to keep her mouth shut.

"You're not afraid of him, are you?" Millicent asked, discounted. "Surely, your father can handle that piece of junk. If he tries anything on you-"

"My father will do no such thing." His father wouldn't, he knew now. His father couldn't because he knew Barty Crouch's plan and approved of that. That's why nothing happened against Mad-Eye Moody the last time. That's why he had gotten away from hexing Draco into a ferret. He wouldn't have if his father wasn't bound by the Dark Lord.

She looked startled at his sharp words. "Why? Don't tell me your father has lost influence on the Board or Ministry?"

"He hasn't." He denied, glaring at her before looking away. "My father wants me to be a big man who can take on a couple of 'kids' as he so articulately put it. So, he's decided not to help me with firing teachers. It's supposed to be training." well, it wasn't exactly a lie. His father had told him that, in sixth year when he was in Azkaban. He had sent a letter saying Draco's job now was to be a proper Malfoy. Whatever that meant.

Millicent obviously didn't believe him. "Right." she crossed her arms. "But I suppose you were right to get me away from there. That madman was eying us strangely, as if daring me to make a move and he would poof us all. It was eerie." she shuddered.

Draco watched her and she stared back, they connected for a moment there before they looked away. The bell rang. Draco's shoulder sagged in relief and he said: "later." to Millicent who nodded and watched him go.

At first, he wasn't sure where he was going until he found his brain giving him an alarming message. He had Defense!

"Boss! Wait for us." called his minions from behind. He looked back at them and wanted to groan again. Why?

The previous day hadn't been this eventful and now, he was dreading that it was going to get just much worse.