Author's Notes: Hey all! I'm back with a oneshot! Yes, I know it has taken me freakin' ages to write and update. I promise I will! School's been hectic this year and I've been dealing with a lot of things as a normal teenager growing up in a big world. So I'm sorry I haven't had much time for fanficcing. BUT! Since school's almost out (I have two exams left to write which I should be studying for) I'm going to update as much as I can (I hopefully will have a job too very soon - interview on tuesday so wish me luck!) Okay, that's about it! I have to say, my writing as definately improved. Ye be warned: This fic is a bit sad at the beginning - hopefully not cry-sad - but it does get happier! Thanks again to all my faithful reviewers, I luv you all! Enjoy! Oh yes.. I do not own the characters or the lyrics in this fic, they belong to the wonderful JK Rowling - whom I worship - and INXS - who have kickin' music!

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Afterglow
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Here I am, lost in the ashes of time, but who wants tomorrow?
In between the longing to hold you again
I'm caught in your shadow, I'm losing control
My mind drifts away, we only have today

The bottle of Firewhisky stood empty on the wooden table. A silver blade was clutched in his hand, his heart screaming in agony, his stomach clenched in eternal knots. Why shouldn't he do it? They were searching for him anyway; he'd rather take his own life than listen to the ramblings of a raving lunatic. Why hadn't he seen this before? Why hadn't he seen the insanity in his father's eyes, he wasn't oblivious, he should've seen the signs.

Gripping the handle tighter in his sweaty palm, tears began to fall from his eyes. He wasn't one to cry easily, usually saving his tears until his emotions became too bottled to control. He'd been taught that a Malfoy never sheds tears, but why shouldn't he cry? He was human; emotion was a necessary ingredient in the mix. It was true that he hadn't felt human in a year — ever since he was branded with that blasted skull — his life had been completely void of meaning. His heart had been encased in ice; he had felt colder than he ever had before. He'd liked it that way.

He raised the blade to his neck, his hand shaking. Two minutes he sat in that position; two minutes that felt like an eternity.

He howled in painful frustration before he lowered it. Why was this so difficult? He should be able to do it. Lift the blade, strike the throat, and enter eternal bliss. His mind knew what was wrong; it was that blasted girl that was keeping him from finishing his life.

Her! Damn her! Why was she always the last thing he thought about? Her brown eyes filling with tears and crying on his shoulder as her best friend was tortured to insanity.

"Finish his mind, Lucius," a snakelike voice whispered as a black-haired figure twitched on the floor. "I will complete the process."

"Draco! Do something! Please!" she cried as tears poured down her filth-smudged cheeks. Draco simply stood rigid as he watched his father raise his wand. "NO! You can't! Draco, how can you let him? Please, do something!"

The girl flung herself toward her friend's executioner but Draco grabbed her waist before she could reach him. Her body shook with loud sobs and her skin was as cold as ice as she flailed madly trying to get away from his grip. Draco took her in his arms tightly, keeping her restrained as he watched the scene with control. When he felt her finally succumb to his restraint, he loosened his grip on her and felt her fall slightly. Draco supported her weight. He felt her arms wrap around his own waist as she turned to bury her head in his chest. What was she doing? As if her pain was torturing him too, he was able to tune out the horrible scene in front of him and focus only on her.

What was this awful feeling in the pit of his stomach? Why was his conscience telling him this whole scene was wrong? As she sobbed into his chest, he felt a twinge of guilt and another emotion tug at his heart. She didn't deserve this; she hadn't done anything. He couldn't let her see her best friend, his enemy, as he was killed. Completely unaware of his decision, he focused all his energy on another place and felt himself squeeze away into blackness, she at his side…

He stared at the dagger, his tears ceasing to fall as he thought of what he'd done. They'd find him soon and torture him for her whereabouts. There was nothing he could do except keep running… or die. They could never be together. So, why was he hesitating? What else did he have to live for?

"Draco?"

He whipped his head up at her hoarse voice and saw her eyes flutter open. She had been sleeping for nearly twenty hours, overcome by grief and tuckered out from crying. Draco had sat in the chair opposite the bed, staring at her for the entire night and part of the day. Many things had been running through his head, including how to hide from them.

He stared at her now, waiting for her to say what she was thinking. Probably that she was never going to forgive him for letting her friend die at the hands of his father. Or that she wished he'd have died instead. What he didn't expect her to say was -

"Thank you."

That simple gesture, those two words, they were haunting him. He couldn't stop thinking about how sincere they had sounded. How nice they were to be directed at him. The way she last looked kept flashing across his mind: tired, worn, tattered, and yet her eyes sparkled with some emotion he did not know. He couldn't place the feeling that had pained his heart as he had watched her sleep, thinking she might have died from exhaustion. The emotion he had felt when she had spoke his name twenty hours later. The emotion that had made his eyes glisten with tears when she forgave him for all he had done to her. He hadn't known what it was at that moment, in the cold room in his uncle's house. All he had known was that it was stronger than he was.

That emotion was what was still twisting his mind and staying his hand.

"Draco?" she asked.

Draco nodded, as if he had forgotten how to speak.

"Could you bring me some water?"

He stood from his chair and walked to the adjoining bathroom. Grabbing a glass from the countertop, he filled it halfway with water. He brought it back to her and placed it on the nightstand, before leaning down over her to help her sit up. As he touched her warm body, he felt a tingle of her heat move up his arms and plunge into his cold heart. He felt his hands grow warm, something that hadn't happened since… when?

When he was satisfied that she could sit by herself, Draco passed the glass to her. As her hand made contact with his, his hand again bristled from the touch. What was she doing to him? She took a few sips and smiled at him. Her smile made the corners of his own mouth twitch, and he turned to walk back to his chair before he smiled as well.

That girl… what had she done to him? In those few hours, she had melted his cold exterior. She had found the part of him that had been dead for years. She had woken up his soul. With a single touch, she had saved him.

Draco stared at his reflection in the silver blade for a moment and then let it fall to the ground, where it shattered into pieces. He didn't need death. He had his mind, and she had hers. He was sure they would figure out a way to stay hidden. He couldn't live with his cold hands forever. For now, he had her warmth. Even if it only lasted a moment, that moment would seem forever.

He stood up from his chair with new resolve; he didn't care what anyone thought. As long as he had her, he felt warm. And as long as he felt warm, she was safe.

Touch me and I will follow in your afterglow
Heal me from all this sorrow
As I let you go I will find my way, I will sacrifice
Now I'm living in your afterglow