Draco Malfoy ran back to the castle, his face alight with glee. He couldn't believe what he had seen. That oaf, Hagrid, had a dragon – a real dragon! Surely he could get his father to remove him from the school now, right? He paused at the castle steps, frowning slightly as Leo Black's words echoed in his head.

You're doing what Lucius wants, not what Draco wants.

He snorted before shaking his head and continuing forward. What would Black know about him and what he wanted? They'd only really known each other about eight months and had only been officially friends for three of them. Black didn't know him – the obnoxious, blonde rapscallion was trying to change him for Merlin's sake! He had stopped saying 'Mudblood' - more to get Black to shut up than anything else – and hadn't been hanging out with his Slytherin friends as often as he used to.

Though, if he was completely honest with himself, he actually preferred Black's company to theirs. Black was simple-minded – an open book – and wore his heart on his sleeve. He was honest, friendly, and didn't have any ulterior motives for being his friend nor did he appear to be looking for any type of blackmail to hold over his head. The Slytherins were the opposite. They were cunning, always looking for an angle and he had to choose his words and actions carefully lest he misstep and find himself in someone's trap. He always had to have his guard up – which was not something he could say about Black.

Why does it matter? Draco frowned. Black's a Gryffindor, I'm a Slytherin. We're not supposed to be friends. He nodded to himself resolutely. I'll just get whatever information out of him that I can and blackmail him – like with this dragon. He felt uneasy at this thought. Black had been good to him and he was about to reward his kindness by stabbing him in the back. Once more, the blonde's words echoed in his head and he couldn't help but wonder if that's what he wanted or if it was something his father would want.

Luckily, he was saved from pondering it further by the sound of a low growl coming from behind him. He whirled around, whipping his wand out before giving a small scream as a black shape bowled him over. His wand flew from his hand and rolled down the hillside, but Draco paid it no mind as he was staring upward into a dark face with glittering rows of sharp, white teeth. The teeth lowered toward him, and Draco had to turn his head away as the scent of meat and blood filled his nostrils. He closed his eyes, waiting for the monster to end him before he felt something cold and wet on his forehead.

It vanished as quickly as it came, as did the pressure on his chest. He sat up, panting heavily and looking around, spotting nothing. A headache crept over him and he groaned, clutching his head in pain before looking for and finding his wand. What the bloody hell was that? He wondered as he trudged up toward the castle.

Draco held the cup in the air, grinning widely as everyone cheered his name. He had won the cup for Slytherin and proved once and for all who was the superior Quidditch player. His teammates carried him on their shoulders to the locker room where they all quickly changed before departing the Quidditch Pitch for the castle. Draco strode ahead of them, holding the cup aloft and frowning in confusion when he opened the great oak front doors.

Instead of the entrance hall, he had walked into a pristine kitchen with a dining table. At the table sat a dark-haired man dressed all in black, currently reading what appeared to be a newspaper and drinking a cup of tea. Draco plunged his hand into his robes and was surprised when he couldn't find his wand. What may have been worse was that the cup was gone too. He turned around to see a blank wall where the oak doors had once been and turned back apprehensively to look at the man. He blinked in surprise to see a second cup of tea across from him, where sat the only other chair at the table.

Having a strange feeling that this might just be a dream, he warily walked over and sat across from the man, who didn't tear his blue-grey eyes away from the newspaper to look at him. Draco quietly took his cup and sipped it, blinking in surprise when he tasted jasmine. He had never told anyone what his favourite tea was – worried they might find it girly.

"Well, it is your head," the man finally said. "Not exactly difficult to find your likes and dislikes."

"Right..." Draco frowned. "Who are you, exactly?"

"Call me Fen," the man answered, flipping a page. "Excellent work in that match. You've got natural skills – much like another Slytherin Seeker I once knew."

"Thanks, I guess?" Draco replied awkwardly, feeling pride swell up within him. "Why are you here? I don't recall ever meeting you. Or inviting you here."

"Oh, I haven't said, have I?" Fen questioned, receiving a headshake. "Well, to put it simply, I suppose I'm a sort of guide – here to make sure that you don't make the same mistakes as someone I once knew and meet an equally gruesome fate."

Draco stared at him.

"A bit much to take in, I know," Fen continued, sipping his tea. "Truth be told, I thought I'd have a more difficult time given your parents and your upbringing, but Leo appears to have you set on a good path. Good on him."

"What do you know about my parents?" Draco demanded. "What do you know about Black? Why does any of this even matter to you?"

"In order: your father's a Death Eater and a git, your mother's emotionally closed off – didn't give many hugs while you were growing up, did she?" asked Fen rhetorically, receiving a flinch in response. "What I know about Leo is that he's a good influence and a good friend to you – can you say that about anyone else?" He received silence in response. "As for the last bit – that's a story for another time. A story you're not quite ready to hear."

"And who are you to decide whether or not I'm ready to hear some story?" Draco snorted.

The man gave a wolfish smile.

"I told you, I'm your guide."

"Well, that didn't go as planned, did it?"

"Shut up," Draco snapped. "No one asked you."

He was back in his dreamscape with Fen, much to his annoyance. He had just gotten back to bed after trying to sneak out and tell McGonagall about the dragon. Much to his surprise, Black had stopped him. To make things even more confusing, Black had lied to McGonagall and saved him from getting into trouble even after Draco had tried getting him and his friends into trouble. He didn't understand that. Any of his Slytherin friends would've thrown him under the proverbial bus to save their own skins. Black had thrown himself in front of the bus to save him when it would've been easier to let it run him over.

"Why would Black do that?" Draco questioned, looking at his 'guide' for some answers. "Why would Black lie to McGonagall and help me when he knew doing so would get him into trouble? Why not just tell her the truth and let me get detention?"

"Why do you think?" Fen questioned, not looking up from his newspaper. "Think carefully, Draco. Why would someone do that?"

"So I'd owe him one?" Draco suggested before frowning. "But that doesn't sound like something Black would do. He doesn't care about favours or being owed... what does he gain by helping me?"

"Ever thought maybe he wasn't looking to gain anything?" Fen inquired, sipping his tea. "Maybe the fact that you're his friend is all the incentive he needs? Ask him about it tomorrow. Then you'll know for sure."

"Well, I've got to hand it to him, Leo certainly has a flair for the dramatic."

Draco grinned widely as the man laughed. It was the night following the party at his Manor. Black had gotten mad at Zabini and socked him in the face before walking out of both the house and the party. Draco had been excited to go to sleep that night and tell Fen all about it. As he had expected, the man enjoyed the story and released howls of laughter at the tale.

He had been visiting Fen in his dreams every night since he had come home from school. As annoyed as he had been to see the man at first, he had started looking forward to the visits when he realized something: Fen actually listened to him. Unlike his parents who didn't seem to care much when he spoke about anything other than academics or their fellow pure-bloods, Fen encouraged him to talk about anything and everything. With him, he didn't have to hide or repress his feelings, he could express himself freely without fear of being judged or being called an infant for displaying emotion. He could be as Gryffindor or Hufflepuff as he liked here without fear of repercussion. He could be himself.

"You know, you can be that way around Leo too," the man informed him. "He doesn't seem the type to ridicule you for expressing yourself."

Draco's cheeks turned pink and he opened his mouth to ask how he knew what he was thinking before shutting it abruptly. Of course Fen knew what he was thinking, they were in his head, after all. He had once thought Fen was some sort of figment of his imagination but the man had assured him that he was, in fact, quite real. There had been a few times where the man had expressed his hope that they'd meet in the real world one day. When Draco had asked when the man had shrugged and said he had no clue before moving on to another topic.

"Why do you think Black even wants to be friends with me?" Draco frowned. "I'm a git to his mates."

"Because Leo's the type of person who wants to save people from themselves," Fen shrugged. "If he can take someone off a dark path and bring them into the light, perhaps there's hope for him as well? At least, that's my theory."

"Leo Black on a dark path?" Draco snorted derisively. "The bloke's as light and Gryffindor as they come."

"Don't let appearances deceive you, Draco, that boy carries a heavy burden," Fen stated, receiving a confused look in response. "They say the eyes are the window to the soul. Well, if you look closely at Leo's, you could probably see loads of anger, fear, and perhaps a touch of darkness as well... Are you familiar with the Cruciatus Curse?"

"I know about it. But what does that have to do with -" Draco began before cutting himself off as the implications of his words came to him.

"I've seen that look in his eyes on many occasions. That's the look of someone who's been through pain and suffering. That's the look of someone who has dealt out some of their own. The look of someone who's taken a life."

Draco went silent at these words, swirling them around in his brain. The events that occurred beneath the trap door at the end of the year were widely known. At least, he had thought they were. Dumbledore had never quite explained how Quirrell had died. And now... Draco couldn't help but wonder if that was because Black had been the one to kill him. He felt a bit sick when he was also reminded that, according to Fen, Black had been under the Cruciatus Curse.

An image of Black flashed in his mind. Mischievous eye twinkle, boisterous laughter, a bright, genuine smile that made you feel accepted. He compared it to the Leo Black he had just seen. Dull, haunted eyes, strained expression, no trace of amusement on his face. The way he had so quickly and efficiently neutralized Zabini, as though he was prepared to be attacked at any moment.

Another image entered his mind. Black writhing on the floor, screaming in agony, begging for the pain to stop as Quirrell stood above him, wand pointed at him and a derisive sneer painted on his face. Black was replaced by a much smaller figure, a house-elf, and Quirrell was replaced by a figure that, for a moment, Draco thought was him. He felt like throwing up until he realized it was his father, and what he was seeing was a memory he had blocked out so long ago.

"Father! What are you doing?! You're hurting him!" five-year-old Draco cried as he ran toward the elf.

"Get away from him," Lucius snarled, waving his wand and sending Draco flying away from him. "He is a servant – he is beneath us. If he cannot fulfil his purpose, there are only two options left: punishment or disposal... Unless you'd rather take his place, Draco?"

Draco fearfully shook his head and Lucius turned back to the elf, telling Draco to observe how they treat those inferior to them.

Draco was startled as he found himself in a warm embrace. He realized it was Fen, hugging him. It took another moment for him to realize he was on his knees and yet another to realize he had been crying. He tentatively hugged Fen back, not entirely familiar with the sensation. Fen ran his fingers through the boy's hair in a soothing motion and Draco couldn't help but wonder if this is what being hugged by a parent was supposed to feel like.

"What am I supposed to do?" Draco whispered. "I don't want to end up like him."

Like my father. He said internally. Fen was quiet for a moment, but his next words would echo in his mind for the rest of his life.

"That, Draco, is your choice to make."