I have always cut; the first time was when I was 12. The whole world, well maybe not the whole world but all of my world, hated me. They hated me because I was different and because they were afraid of me. I was always careful, the cuts were small and places that are out of sight. I always waited until the cuts had healed before I cut again. It was harder that night. The cut was meant to be longer, not deeper. I didn't want to die. Not really.
It was really quite late; I was alone in the sixth year boys bathroom, on my knees in one of the shower stalls. I usually cut after hiving one of my dreams, well some would call them nightmares. One where everyone that had died since the start of the second war spoke to me, I was always kneeling and they stood above me, blaming me for their deaths, telling me it was all my fault. I dreamt this often, and after I always had the need to be in control, to feel and to spill my blood for a change. But this time the need was different, it was like something was crawling in my skin, and I needed to let it out.
That night was a mistake, kneeling there on the tiles. I was always careful; I wanted the scars to be neat. I was making a long and careful cut down the centre of my left forearm with my knife, to release the thing that had invaded my veins. My blood dripped onto the tiles, creating rivulets of deep red, to drizzle slowly to the drain, creating patterns on the tiles. I watched the blood drip from my arm and felt the crawling sensation start to fade. I had spilt blood; I had stained the floor with it and I felt a strange burning begin all over my body.
The door burst open. I jumped accidentally plunging the knife deeper than I had meant right into my wrist, slicing the vein. I grunted in pain and the blood began to pool on the floor of the stall. I looked up, to see the frightened face of my dorm mate Neville Longbottom.
He stood frozen for a minute. Then he yelled and the whole dorm came running, Ron took one look at me and promptly ran to get some towels. I was afraid, the burning was spreading through my veins and I was going to die and I didn't want to, not really. Sometimes I thought it might just be easier if I did, but tonight with the four frightened faces of my friends looking at me I changed my mind.
"Harry, Harry, can you hear me." Ron was saying waving his hand in front of my face.
"I'm sorry." I whispered as the burning pain seared through my body causing the room to fade out in a swirl of darkness.
Deep in the Slytherin dungeons one Draco Malfoy woke with a start sitting bolt upright. He felt something, something that he had been waiting for since he came into his inheritance at the end of the last school year. On his seventeenth birthday early in June he had awoken screaming in pain not knowing which way was up.
He had felt his bones stretch, his muscles contracting and snap back into a new position grow stronger, Draco had felt his eye teeth pop out and new teeth grow back in their place. He had felt a strange and painful rippling sensation in his back before what had seemed to be a pair of deep dark blue wings ripped out of his back, and then contracted leaving two blue scaly patches on his back. Draco had also grown a good five inches now standing at six feet, two inches, his body had also grown cat like fangs, claws and what he later noticed cat like slits for pupils. After noticing the changes that had occurred to his body he, threw the hand mirror across the room, watching with satisfaction as it smashed against the wall, glass shards showered to the floor. Draco turned and with a growl and thrust his hands under the dresser, upturning it, and watching it smash against the wall. Draco felt his body fill with something akin to testosterone, and Draco raged against it. After he had come down from his testosterone high Draco cast a glamour charm on himself and headed to the schools library to research what had just happened.
After several hours of research he had discovered something about his family that shattered his beliefs, ideals, and everything he had ever been told by his father. The Malfoy family weren't pure bloods; they weren't even pure blood human.
The only book on the Lytaren species in the library said,
Lytare are a rare magical species, was created due to the breeding of the Lyte bird, and an unknown type of large cat, both now extinct by a wizard who is unknown. This creature, was known as a Lytar, and when this Lytar breed with humans they created the Lytare. The original species Lytar is now extinct. Lytare currently rated XXXX by the Ministry of Magics Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. They are considered extremely dangerous when provoked. This species, in the middle ages, were caught and breed with by many of the wizarding families who sought power, but are now commonly thought to be almost extinct. The gene for a Lytare is a recessive trait and as such very few have been seen. For more than a hundred years, none have been born. The gene is only known to exist in a few of today's 'pure-bloods' the Blacks, Princes, and the Prewetts, are the only known families to carry this gene.
The Lytare are known to be an animalistic society, who have a social order based on dominants and submissives. Both of which are distinctly different to each other.
The dominant's are always male and are distinguishable by their deep blue wings that are half their height, which can only be recalled after mating for the first time. They are also the elder of the pair and always taller and stronger. These qualities are necessary for their survival in the wild, where the dominant is the protector and provider for their submissive.
The submissive however has wings that are as tall as they themselves are, and can be wrapped around the body as a protection that is almost impenetrable, which is needed as they are the smaller of the pair and less physically able to defend themselves, they also have a extremely poisonous bite. Their wings are most commonly a pale blue but the more magically powerful have been known to have dusty red wings. Less is known about the submissive of the species as very few have been born into wizarding society. However both the submissive and the dominant both have cat like fangs and claws to match their feathery wings taken from their ancestor the Lytar.
Lytare are always shockingly beautiful, though they mate for life, and after mating will never desire another sexual partner. A dominant's mate can be either male or female. The dominant of the pair will feel a strong pull in their veins as soon as their mate comes into their Lytaren powers, calling them to claim their mate before someone else does. The transformation, of a half-blooded Lytare usually happens on the seventeenth birthday however if the two have hated each other previously only the oldest and therefore dominant would be able to transform. For the submissive to come into their powers they themselves would have to bleed out the hate for their mate that was running in their veins, creating a danger for their lives. After this time the transformation would begin immediately.
Draco could feel a pull growing stronger with every second, pulsing inside his very veins. His mate had come into their inheritance, and they were here are Hogwarts.