Happy valentine's day everyone :) I thought I would gift you all with a new chapter. Thank you to everyone who reviewed – they always make me smile.

My blood freezes in my veins. My heats falters as ice shivers over my skin and a breeze dances into the room from the window.

Oh god.

Oh my god.

Dear Merlin.

"You don't have to say it back," He rushes out quickly. "You really don't have to say it now – or ever, if you don't want to."

Oh fucking hell.

All of a sudden the moment is gone. The time to profess any feelings that I may or may not have had is over, and he is rolling away from me as if he didn't just completely shatter my perfectly carved world. Everything was going so fucking perfectly.

I look at the way that his blond hairs caress the pillow and I feel the urge to stretch my hand and brush the back of his neck gently, but I don't. Draco Malfoy in general is a bit of a snarky bastard – but with a bruised ego, I doubt he would be very tolerable.

"I should go." I stand, pushing the warm covers away from my body and rising on shaking legs. "I'm sorry." I don't know why it slipped out. I don't even know what I was apologising for. Maybe for deciding to get up and walk out. Or for maybe because I can't manage to open my mouth and squeeze out words that I know lie somewhere in me. Maybe because I still have doubts about his intentions even though I am so happy. It could be any one of these reasons. And I have no idea which.

I turn back to meet his eyes and I try to smile at him, try – with all of remaining energy I have (there isn't much of it left after the long day that we have had) – to convince him that we will be ok... because we will – though, right now I have to think.

His voice is lonely in the quiet of the room. "Stay."

Pushing back the covers off his own body, he makes haste as stops me before I can make it to the floo entrance. The escape route stands two meters away from me – the gilded frame taunting and laughing with the flicker of the flames – and Draco's large body blocking it. "Draco, please let me go."

"Not like this." Shaking his head, his eyes deaden in the already sunken holes. Considering that I sleep at his side every night, I never noticed how little sleep he must be getting if the gaunt look is anything to go by.

Sighing, I slump back onto the side of the bed, holding my head in my hands and running the pads of my fingertips across my scalp. A sleep craving brain is not the most effective weapon when engaging in a battle of wits with Draco. "I don't know why, Draco?"

"Why what?"

"Why I can't say it back." I tell him, trying – and failing – to hold my head high under his pressing gaze.

Shaking his head, he kneels before me and pulls my hands into his grasp. "I am not asking you to."

"But you want it." I make an effort to turn away, but he won't allow it. "I can see it in your eyes." I try to prize my arms from his grip, but I can't. "What happened to you?" I whisper, noticing the notches of muscle crawling up his skin. The body I used to crave for being so lean and agile is not there anymore. The changes are slight, but I can still feel the difference.

I can feel the ripple and shift of new muscle tensing, stretching and dancing under his pale skin, ligaments moving with every pull and push of his wrist or elbow and the peaks and dives of the new tissue that extends throughout his upper body.

Shaking his head, his eyes shuttered in what appears to be befuddlement but could easily be something else; he drops my wrists as if scolded. "What are you talking about?" spinning away from me, he walking back towards the fire place and rests his hands on the overhanging marble ledge with his body turned away and his eyes cast downwards.

I start, rubbing my wrists at his quick dismissal and noticing the red marks for the first time. "Your body–"

"Stop changing the subject." He snarls suddenly, "You were right, I wanted you to say it back. But you can't, so just leave."

I watch as he turns to me once more, his eyes the deepest black that I have ever seen. "Draco-" I plead with my eyes, asking for him to open up, to let me in, even though I know that I hardly deserve it right now.

"No." He suddenly roars, his body shaking and twisting and heaving, though as I blink my eyes it is gone. "You need to leave, now!"

"No." I'm yelling now, and I start to count on my lucky stars that he doesn't have any neighbours within yelling distance.

Finally, he turns to face me fully. His body stretches in the darkness; wide shoulders leading to tense arms, narrow hips leading to legs ready to pounce.

I don't know what makes me scream. Maybe it is the way that his incisors seem to drip down, catching his lips and drawing blood that pools before the cuts vanish easily. Or maybe it is the way that his body convulses again before he begins to scream.

The noise tears through the silence, pushing and pulling and clawing and scratching at my heart and soul. I cry, tears dropping onto my cheeks and lips so I can taste the saltiness, but I don't even register that my eyes are leaking.

I begin to take faltering steps away; each footfall thudding, though almost unheard to my ears in the messy commotion of the room. Draco seems to notice though. He raises his eyes. His mouth encased in his own blood that he wipes away easily with the back of his hand, his cheekbones jut out wildly from his pale cheeks and his eyes glitter with something that I have never seen before. Something dangerous. Something alluring and possessive and enchanting. Something new and different.

It is like the worst kind of torture to watch him watch me. To see the gaunt, hollow look to his face and the tense lock of his fingers in pain and not be able to do anything.

But he doesn't seem to be worrying about any of that.

He's advancing. Slowly and purposely – pushing closer and closer as I try and scramble to the other side of the bed.

He speaks. "My mate doesn't need to fear me." I don't hear the words, as the second he opens his mouth to speak, wings erupt from his back – and I scream. They thrust into the room, pulsing and – though the feathers are the deepest black – they seem to be glowing.

Millions of feathers slip and slide over each other as they shiver with the roll of Malfoy's back and then with every breath he takes. Each feather catches and refracts the light in its own special way. And suddenly my fear seems irrational. And every thought is forgotten as I watch his shoulders slump slightly in defeat and hopelessness as he watches me push further and further away from me. "Don't need to be afraid." He whispers again.

I'm drawn forwards.

My hands move of their own accord, touching and slipping my fingers over the soft extension of his body, watching as each feather ripples with the slight pull of my fingers. Every pass lets a small sigh of pleasure rumble from Malfoy's throat, and I instantly realise that this is way too personal – way too close.

And then, the haze gone, I realise where I am and what I am doing.

I realise what is standing before me.

A fully grown Male Veela. A vela with pheromones that can influence the behaviour of those around them. Influence my behaviour.

I step back.

One step.

Two.

Three...until I feel that I am at a safe distance. "Malfoy?"

I cower in the corner feeling helpless and pathetic as I watch him stalk forwards, towering and intimidating as his wings stretch to span almost the entire room.

"I need you." He whispers, and I barely catch it. "Help me."

"You used your pheromones to trick me, you made me forget my fear so I would touch you." I hiss angrily, pushing myself away from the wall and trying to square my shoulders to appear slightly more intimidating – though I hardly compare to an eight foot wing span.

Shaking his head, he firmly answers, "No."

"Please tell me that you have not been using pheromones all this time." I manage to choke out.

"No." His eyes plead and beg, in the space between us. I meet them easily. "I have never–"

"Y-you just did." I say.

Shaking his head, he slumps back onto the bed, curling up into himself and he seems to implore with his actions that I have to believe him. "Ok." I say finally, moving closer and sitting next to him, extending my hand out and whispering it slightly over his skin.

"You believe me?" He asks, his body language changes from hopeless to hopeful in an instant.

I nod, not telling him that I can feel it now. The distinct separation between my actions under my own will and those influenced by him. There is a clear difference after the effects of his control has worn off.

"You should have told me."

"Please don't talk." He whispers, lying back on the bed and opening his wings and arms before pulling me down to rest by his side. "I need you to just be here," murmuring in the darkness as he shuts off the lights, he wraps himself around me, breathing in deeply and then smiling contentedly before shutting his eyes and drifting off to sleep.

Swallowed by the darkness, alone with my thoughts – because sleep continues to evade me – I am able to whisper "I love you too," To his sleeping form.

It's real.

And I mean it.

I just don't know why I couldn't say it before.

Thank you for reading. Again happy Valentines. I hoped you liked it and have time to post a little review :) i know it was a little short but it felt like the right place to stop and i didn't want to drag it out.