A/N: Priviet! Kak dyla?

This is the super shiny/sparkly/squeaky chapter that I promised you lot last week. It's entirely new, not made of bits of pieces of old and re-written text like the previous chapters.

I hope you like it, because my muse was quite unsure what it would turn out to be like. As was I. However, after many a slice of moist, warm cake and a glass of good claret, inspiration struck me like a bug on a speeding windshield.

We have need only eight reviews to hit four-hundred. With this being the fourth chapter of the re-write, I would love to hit that mark!

This fic is rated M because of child abuse, bitching, slash, swearing, Dom/Sub, magical creatures, foreign languages, OOCness, bad grammar, original characters, violence, and multiple Mates.

*Special warning*: Those with delicate stomachs please skip the *marked* italics of the nightmare/flash back scene. There is graphic abuse, of a physical, mental and sexual nature. I have removed most of the graphic sexual content, but the uncensored version can be found on both HPFandom and Archive of Our Own.

Disclaimer: I don't take daily baths in Galleons.

*Just to clarify, Blaise is Draco's best friend, not his ex-boyfriend. 'Twas a typo, fair citizens of Potterdom.*

All questions and comments are welcome. I will dance around flames cackling. In frilly knickers. Only, frilly knickers.

Chapter Four: Little Hybrid

The sound of the floo opening startled everyone in the room to their feet. Draco, as the Alpha of his pride, was the first to investigate. He quickly switched forms, and scented the air.

It was a creature.

He stormed into the living room, and grabbed the being by the throat before lifting it up and pushing it against the wall, a deep growl building in his chest. He was about to interrogate the creature when a noise between a whimper and a whine left it's throat, and the body he was holding up went completely limp. Startled, Draco lessened his grip and guided the lax being to the floor, gently, his instincts disallowing the mistreatment of an unmated submissive.

The seemingly unconscious submissive was small; Draco guessed that when standing it would reach 5'4" at the most. He had dark brown, wavy hair that would have framed the creature's tanned cheekbones, accompanied by dark eyebrows and eyelashes. The face itself was humanoid, but with arched eyebrows, high cheekbones and slightly pointed ears that suggested elven influence, and small fangs peeking out from parted pouty lips that suggested otherwise. A hybrid, perhaps. The Submissive seemed exhausted, pale under his tanned skin, and injured to some degree as there was a faint smell of blood about him. Oddly, the creature seemed familiar, as did the creatures' scent.

Draco called in Severus, and after a few diagnosis spells Severus declared the creature exhausted from blood-loss, malnourishment, and a recent creature inheritance. He summoned a few potions from his stores, and Draco gently massaged the Submissive's throat to encourage swallowing when Severus emptied the vials into the creature's mouth.

The potions consumed, the Submissive's muscles fully relaxed, releasing a tension that Draco hadn't noticed. A gentle sigh left the quenched throat, and the thick, deep brown lashes fluttered over no longer pale cheeks until they stilled in slumber. Relived, Draco ran a gentle hand through the silky, wavy hair, and was started when a soft, contented purr sounded in the sleeping creature's throat. Both he and Severus let out a chuckle at the sweet noise, which was at least an octave higher than Draco's purr.

Draco and Severus moved the Submissive to the sick bay, leaving a small Dragonhide backpack behind, and once the small creature was settled under soft, warm blankets, Draco found that his instincts wouldn't let him leave. Protect, they were saying, Pride, Submissive, Home, Trust, Protect, Unmated, Home, Pride, Friend, Submissive, Protect, Brother, Son, Pride, Protect! His magic began to swirl as he was washed over by a wave of confusing messages, half of which were mere sounds or smells that swirled around his head and heart in a mass of colour and noise.

The wave evaporated when a distressed whimper left the sleeping Submissive's throat, replaced by homely warmth as a reassuring purr rumbled in Draco's chest. The sleeping creature replied with a quiet, contented purr, and Draco sat down on the chaise that guarded the sick bed. A gentle purr stayed in his chest as his magic cocooned the room in warmth and the scent of vanilla, honey, and apple wood smoke. He soon slipped into Morpheus' embrace.

..~*~..

A clawed hand came from nowhere, dark and strong as it crashed into his soft cheek, snapping his head to the side with the force behind it. A traitorous whimper left his throat, his eyes stinging as they welled with forbidden tears. A dark chuckle left the fanged mouth of the woman before him, mocking his weakness as she had so many times before. He knew that any sound of pain or fear would only encourage her, pleasure her sadistic and demonic nature. He berated himself as he shrank into his own body, reducing her target in a pitiful attempt to avoid further torment. He knew that it was futile.

Torment was as important to his mother as sex and blood. She lived on it.

'Midispiace, Senora.' He murmured fearfully, subconsciously reverting to his father's tongue. I'm sorry, madam. The language earned him a backhanded slap that almost took him off his feet.

'None of that filthy tongue here!' His mother snarled, her Nigerian thicker than ever. Her black talons grabbed his slender throat and lifted him from the ground with unnatural strength. He was thrown across the room, and landed painfully on the cold, black marble. A mad cackle met his ears, before a stiletto boot-heel stabbed his vulnerable stomach. He cursed himself for not curling into a more protective position, for the fall had left him disorientated, his limbs twisted painfully as he lay on his bleeding back, the talon-gashes dripping thick, red blood on the polished stone.

*WARNING*

'How dare you show your ugly, cursed faced in this house?' She asked quietly as she straddled his bleeding stomach, her straining breasts threatening to escape the straps of red and black leather that covered very little of the darkly tanned flesh. Her black, arrow-headed tail curled around his jean-clad thigh, constructing painfully as she tilted her head to the side in a mockery of innocent curiosity. Her mane of dark waves swept the floor, sparks spitting as the strands met the floor.

'Mi- I apologise, Mistress.' Blaise said softly, his teeth gritted against the pain. The aptly named Kokumo threw back her head and laughed, her fangs and dark horns glinting in the miserly candlelight.

'Your whimpered apologies will not help you, runt. You were banished, my little bitch, but you disobeyed.' Blaise stayed silent, his eyes closed against the fear and pain. A strangled gasp was torn from his bruised throat as a talon buried itself in the smooth flesh of his neck, and a whimper escaped as a hot, venom-slicked tongue licked the bleeding wound, accompanied by a disgustingly sexual moan from the Succubus that sampled his life blood. The creature shifted her hips, her sex rubbing against her leather straps as she drank from her son, her erect nipples straining against the fabric, pleasuring her further as her breath hitched, bringing in the scent of fear, blood, pain, shame, disgust and humiliation. What a delicious little cocktail, she thought. She brought her face away from the wound, and trailed her clawed fingers through the blood that had pooled on the floor. Her hips sped up as she trailed her fingers over the body beneath her, before she guided one the cup her sex and the other to play with her breasts.

(Removed content to be found on my HPFandom and AO3 accounts, links are on my profile.)

Her breath coming out in shallow pants, her muscles aching and her nerves sparking along with her skin, she brought herself to completion, a long, loud moan accompanied by a deep rumbling purr left her throat. Her body spasmed, flames flicking from her nipples, finger tips, hair and tail. Her vision whited out in the power of her orgasm, and the pleasure overtook her senses and body, until she left consciousness and slumped off to the side, her tail releasing its hold on the bruised and burnt skin of Blaise' now naked thigh.

*Content over*

The nightmare changed then, the colours and sensations blurred until Blaise was curled up on the black stone of the shower, tears, blood and his mother's fluids washing down the drain in the heavy fall of cold water. He sat there, shivering, his back against the wall with his arms hugging his knees to his chest, slowly rocking back and forth, numb from the cold and his mental escape.

Then he was in a cheap motel room, lying on scratchy sheets as his magic rose about him, cocooning his crudely healed body with gentle warmth and the smell of gun powder, cinnamon and warm cotton. He was lifted from the bed by two pairs of phantom arms, invisible and strong as they embraced him just as pain spiked down his spine. He cried out before he could stop himself, and the phantoms held him closer, cooing softly as the covered him with their strong scent, and dribbled a sweet and comforting liquid into his mouth. His spine was on fire, his bones aching, his teeth grinding together in an attempt to hold back the pitiful whimpers as the pain drew stringing tears from his eyes and his body spasmed in the strong hold of his phantoms. After what seemed like hours the pain and his magic gave a final thrum, and his body was gently placed back onto the mattress as he slipped into slumber. A soft purr built in his chest as his phantoms, the ghostly apparitions of his Mates, kissed his hands, neck and face. Then they left, and Blaise slept alone, blanketed by their scent and magic as his own set about healing his wounds and strengthening his new abilities and features.

He woke, panicked, a scream building in his throat as the horrors of the day before came back to him. He sat up, and retreated over the scratchy sheets until his back hit the peeling paint the covered the wall. His phantoms were gone, their scent and magic faint as the taste of blood on his tongue. He must have bitten his tongue. He trailed the said tongue, which was seemingly undamaged, over his teeth and was startled at the texture. They were much harder, not that they had been soft before, but now they seemed more akin to stone than to bone. His exploration continued and once again he was startled, this time by an elongated and sharp inch-long canine cutting his questing tongue. Disgusted by the taste of his blood, the utter wrongness of it, he slipped out of the lumpy bed to wash his mouth out. His journey was abruptly halted by a rather large, and unexpected, weight on his back, both on his upper back starting between his shoulder blades, and on his lower back, seemingly connected to his tail bone. After gaining his balance, his toes curling on the stained and ancient carpet to anchor him, he cautiously twisted at the waist, but promptly lost his balance and fell to land painfully on the hard carpet covered concrete in a mixture of shock, shame and horror.

The weight was not invisible, not unexplainable. Not a joke or an apparition. Neither a parasite nor a predator. It was his own flesh, blood, pain, shame, genes, feelings, horror, fear… and pride. His wings. His tail. His beauty. His escape. His weapons. A part of him as much as his heart and brain.

They would be his damnation and salvation.

His bitter-sweet sorrowful joy.

He made up his mind. He made an oath, vowed to himself and to the magic that gave him life that he would bear his appendages with pride, without fear.

So he stood, shakily, and planted his feet hips width apart. He laced his fingers together and rested his joint hands on his abdomen. Then, after slumping his shoulders down and flexing his pectoral muscles, he unfurled his bat-like wings. They were huge, and he had to bend his knees to keep from falling over as his nine-foot wings stretched out to almost touch the walls of his motel room. They were dark green, so dark that they were almost black, that made him shudder with the sensitivity when he touched the soft, leathery skin. The bones were strong yet light, dark outlines in the thin membrane. His tail, of a similar feel and hue, though of thicker skin, flicker back and forth at a length of two and a half feet, a few inches off the mottled carpet that Blaise stood upon.

He wings stretched and slightly aching, he relaxed and instinctually folded them neatly until they were snug against his back. His arched brows furrowed in worry when he thought of reactions to his wings and tail, but they smoothed when he felt the appendages retract into his skin. His wings melted into the strong muscles of his back, and his tail curled in upon itself like a butterfly's tongue before melting into the skin of his lower back. His jaw ached as his fangs shrank, and his ears itched as their shape changed, he presumed.

Feeling entirely more human, he gathered his clothes, after blushing in realisation that he was nude as a newborn babe, and washed in the not-so-sanitary bathroom. His toilet complete, he returned to the bedchamber and collected his shrunken belongings, before storing them in a small, black dragon-hide backpack. Then he decided where to go. Draco.

It took him a half a day to find his way to Malfoy Manor, but when he stood outside the gates the scent of Draco was weeks old, and there was an air about the cold structure of majestic stone that sent a shiver of dread down Blaise' spine. No, the Manor was not a place to find his brother-figure.

So he wandered on, and a realisation smacked him over the head when he was on the Night Bus- where else would his brother have gone, but to Severus? After calling out his will to go to The Leaky Cauldron, and arriving at the shadowy pub, he walked inside and promptly made use of the floo, shying away from the leers and the suspicious looks courtesy of the patrons.

When he finally fell through the fireplace and landed on the rich carpet, he relaxed.

But then he was grabbed by the throat-

He couldn't breath-

Someone growled deeply-

He whimpered-

Then-

Darkness.

..~*~..

Draco was woken by a quiet keening sound beside him, and the vibrations of the Submissive's movement. Sitting up from his position on the chaise, he winced in the crick in his neck but went to investigate.

The little creature was on his back, his hands clenched into white-knuckled fists as whimpers of pain and humiliation slipped from his grimacing lips. Tears were running down his temples towards his pillow, and his toes were curling and uncurling under the blanket. Scenting the air Draco realised that the hybrid was remembering pain, in the form of a vivid-looking nightmare, but that he was physically unharmed.

Unsure what to do, he sent of his Dragon Patronus to Severus and his mother, and they soon joined him in the sick bay. He gestured to the dream-haunted Sub, asking silently what they should do.

Narcissa sat down on the side of the bed opposite to Draco, and gently placed a hand on a clenched fist. She jerkily withdrew the appendage when the boy let out a particularly loud whimper, his left thigh flinching away from dream-pain. Severus suggested in his rich, smooth voice that they stay quietly at a small distance as not to crowd the creature, and to simply wait out the nightmare. He mentioned some of Draco's night terrors he suffered when he was younger, and how it had been very difficult to wake him from them.

So they watched the pained boy for what seemed like hours, though only twenty minutes had passed when the Sub's body seemed to relax. A gentle purr sounded for a few moments, until a startled cry rang out and the creature's body stiffened, its magic rose up and whirled around the room in a stormy gust that smelled of warm rain, Tiramisu and spiced Hot Chocolate.

Twenty minutes later, the Submissive stilled after a final keen, and the others in the room sensed that he was waking. He smacked his lips and his tanned forehead creased into a cute little frown, until he turned over onto him flat stomach, placed his hands either side of his pillow-

And unfurled his wings.

Draco and Narcissa ducked just in time to avoid being smacked by the nine-foot wingspan. The Submissive made a noise of protest and pouted when he ran out of room two foot two soon. He retracted his wings to rest snuggly against his back, before he stretched like a cat, a purr leaving his throat as he uncurled his tail and stretched it along with his achy arms and back. His languid stretches were interrupted be a polite clearing of a female throat.

He fell onto his side in his hast to turn around, landing painfully on his tail in the process, a deep blush colouring his tanned cheeks as he was met with the sight of Severus and Narcissa. He glanced away from them in his embarrassment, and by chance his wide Hazel-green eyes with their vertical pupils met the equally vertically pupiled eyes of a Dominant Katyarana. A distressed keen left his lipped as he quickly backed away until his back hit the wall, and only then did he look away and bare his throat in submission.

A deep chuckle left Draco's throat at the action, and the Sub's head snapped back to his face at the familiar noise, his eyes wide with surprise and curiosity.

"Draco?" He whispered, his eyes flicking across to where Severus and Narcissa stood before flicking back to who he believed to be his brother.

"Blaise?" Draco exclaimed, equally surprised and curious. A moment later a short body crashed into his own as Blaise wound his arms around Draco's waist and rested his head on a muscular chest. Blaise nodded almost frantically, nuzzling into Draco's shirt as relieved tears caused him to hiccup. Draco's strong arms picked up his brother easily and sat down on the bed, cradling the weeping Submissive's head in a large had as he slowly rocked from side to side, hushing and murmuring reassurances. Severus and Narcissa joined the two on the bed, adding there of endearments or gently stroking the delicate Sub.

Eventually Blaise settled down, issuing a few hiccups as he wiped away his tears bashfully and blew his nose on the handkerchief the Narcissa offered. His face cleared, he gazed up at Draco and traced one of his Dominant Tattoos, a long curve that framed his brother's high cheekbone and chiselled jaw. Draco smiled down at him, kissed the hand and leant down to rub his cheek on Blaise' wavy tresses.

A purr built in both of their chests, and Blaise turned instinctually and nipped Draco wrist, licking a drop of his brother's blood before kissing the scratch softly to heal it.

They were family now, by creature law, and no one could separate them.

To be continued…

Post A/N: So? Did you like it? If anyone is wondering, Kokumo means 'This one will not die', and I thought that the name suited Blaise' Succubus mother.

Any questions or comment are very welcome- I love feedback.

A few review responses:

Signora Lilium: Tada! Harry will have three Mates, the two other than Draco will be original characters. As for your other question, you will have to wait and see!

ShadowedFang: Sorry, but Harry is and will stay a Submissive.

Floyd in the Sky: Sorry hon, but this will be a threesome/moresome fic. I will be doing Draco/Harry fics in the future, and both Phoenix and Ricochet have simple couple pairings.

Picabone99: Sorry, but there won't be any Charlie/Harry in this fic, but I will probably write one in the future- I love the pairing too! For your Ravenclaw/Harry vote, one of my original characters would have been housed in Ravenclaw if he had gone to Hogwarts. Thank you!

A humongous thank you to everyone one of the wonderful people that reviewed!

The next chapter will be uploaded, on schedule, on Thursday.