(A/N: About the chapter title- for those that don't know, FUBAR stands for "fucked up beyond all repair" (or "beyond all reason", which I personally prefer). It was originally a military term, interestingly enough, and I think it just about sums up our heroes' situation at present. Things in this chapter go from bad to worse, and from worse to terminal, just so you know.)

00000

Hermione's eyes fluttered open slowly, clouded with pain. She blinked and narrowed them, trying to bring her surroundings into focus- she could just barely make out Draco's chiseled features and shock of silver hair above her. A gasp of horror was wrenched from her- God no, not again! Not as Draco, not again- I can't TAKE this anymore- and she tried to throw her arms up to shield her face- but was thwarted by the fact that her hands were still bound and, moreover, her arms were numb and wooden from the hours they had spent supporting her weight. So she pressed herself down as flat as she could onto the yielding surface that she realized was the bed she had been chained to.

Oh God, she thought despairingly, squeezing her eyes tightly closed as an involuntary shudder of revulsion wracked her body, he's got me on the bed again. God, if there's any mercy in you, don't let him do it again! Let me die first, oh God oh please, please let me DIE!

And then she felt a hand cup her cheek with a gentleness she had never thought to feel again, and heard that deep, familiar voice speaking softly, from just above her head. "…kill him," Draco was muttering, his voice exuding near-palpable waves of rage and hatred, "I'm gonna kill him, I'm gonna fucking KILL him, rip him limb from bloody- fucking- limb-" But the thing that convinced her to open her eyes again was not his voice (it's a trick- I knew he'd do this eventually- try to make me think he really IS Draco- to make it worse- it's a trick, just a trick-), but the sudden tiny, warm splashes she felt on her face- Draco was crying, his tears falling down onto her. That was when realization began to dawn; Lucius would not carry his deception so far as to cry over her. Of that she was sure. She didn't think he was even capable of tears and if he was, he wouldn't waste them on a mudblood, not even as a means of deceiving her. Which meant that- could this- could this actually be-?

Forcing her eyes open once more, she blinked upward until he slowly came into focus above her. It was undeniably Draco, the pale eyes that had been so guarded and unexpressive for the first several years of their acquaintance now shining with agonized tears; the same tears that kept falling, splashing warm on her face.

"Draco," she said, or tried to- but no sound came out and she instantly winced, trying instinctively to press a hand to her throat. Again, her arms would not obey her. Staring up in pained confusion, having completely forgotten, since awakening, that she had been placed under a silencing spell by Lucius earlier that day, she tried again; "Dra- Draco?" No sound, and this time she nearly passed out from the pain in her throat.

"Aw, shit!" Draco cried above her; "Bastard, fucking BASTARD!" He pressed a hand gently over her mouth, lest she try to speak again. "I know this spell," he said, moving his wand so that the tip rested lightly against her throat. "He used it on me a lot when I was a kid, when he was-" his jaw clenched- "disciplining me." Draco was indeed very familiar with the spell, which blocked all sound from escaping its victim's mouth and caused intense pain at every attempt of said victim to speak or cry out. He had been placed under it dozens of times in his childhood, until he had learned to suffer his father's punishments in perfect silence. The thought of Lucius using it on Hermione made him feel sick with loathing.

"Finite Incantatum," he whispered, then placed the wand immediately against her bonds and freed her hands. He returned his attention to her face just in time to see her eyes begin to roll back in her head.

"NO!" he cried. "Hermione, no!" Panicked, he grabbed her shoulders and shook her. She blinked rapidly several times and then focused on him again, though her eyes had a strange, far-away look to them now that filled him with a cold dread. "Hermione," he murmured, smoothing her rumpled hair back from her forehead, "try again now. Say my name again."

"Draco." Her voice was hoarse, but it was there. And then, "you…came?"

Draco released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. His head bowed forward and his eyes fell momentarily closed as a wave of intense relief washed over him. "I came," he whispered, as tears leaked from his closed eyes, "Oh Christ God, Hermione, OF COURSE I came!"

She wetted her lips with her tongue. "But- I…thought…"

"Those things I said- every word was like a dagger in my heart. I never meant it, not any of it- come on, you're smart enough to know that. I was-" he paused and grimaced- "I was trying to protect you- I knew you were in danger because of me, I knew that bastard, that bloody BASTARD-" he stopped again, fists clenched, breathing hard, making a conscious effort to calm himself before continuing. "I thought if our relationship ended and, more than that, if you hated me, then maybe you'd be safe, that he'd leave you alone." Another pause, then, "I WAS WRONG!" he cried, suddenly and completely losing control. He brought his hands up over his face, clenching fistfuls of his silver-fine hair, actually rocking back and forth as tidal waves of guilt, grief and rage engulfed him.

Several moments later he lowered his hands and looked down at her through bloodshot eyes. She was staring up wide-eyed, as though she had never seen him before. At least she looks focused, he thought dully; at least she looks like she's actually…here.

"I was wrong," he repeated, "but my intent was solely to protect you. I never stopped loving you, not for a second. And I would have gone to the end of the earth to find you."

Slowly, Hermione raised a shaking hand to his face, cupping his cheek and wiping away his tears with her thumb. "The earth is…round. Malfoy." she whispered.

"And you're a damned annoying know-it-all, Granger," he smiled through his tears, "but I love you for it. God, I love you so damn much!"

A tiny answering smile had just begun to touch her lips when suddenly her whole body jerked straight, almost as though she'd received an electric shock. Her eyes flew wide and she expelled her breath in a forcible "huh!" Her hands clenched into fists, the one which had been pressed to his cheek scratching him in the process.

"HERMIONE!" Draco felt his heart plummet down through his stomach, cold, sick fear grasping him, because he thought he understood what was happening, and it was very, very bad. His father had always had a great love of potions; it had been his best subject at Hogwarts and he had carried that passion with him throughout his life. It was the reason Draco had taken to Snape's classes like a fish to water; by the time he had reached Hogwarts, he had already spent years assisting his father in his own potions lab. Lucius' favorite potions to brew, not surprisingly, were obscure and particularly sadistic poisons.

"Draco," she gasped, sounding as though she had been kicked hard in the stomach, "hurts!"

"Aw, fuck. Fuck! Hermione-" he caught her face between his hands, staring intently into her pain-filled eyes as she struggled to breathe, seeming as though the wind had been savagely knocked out of her. "Hermione, what did he give you? HERMIONE! Think, goddamn you! What did my father give you to drink? What did it smell like, taste like? Hermione! Please- I need you to think."

Hermione gazed up at him, her face pinned between his strong hands, her mind whirling at this new onslaught of pain as tears of agony began pouring down her cheeks. Draco needed her to think…to think…she had to try for him. She closed her eyes against the pain and tried.

It had been the last thing she remembered before waking up to see Draco bending over her. She had been chained to the canopy bar at the foot of the bed, dangling limply from her wrists because her legs would not support her after the whipping she had just received. Lucius had been standing on the edge of the bed, his arms encircling her from behind, his hands running over her body with the assurance of complete ownership as he whispered words of torment in her ear. Oh God- his hands were doing unspeakable things- and his lips- on her ear, on the nape of her neck-

Distantly she was aware that a shudder of disgust- or was it pain? Or both? had wracked her body, causing Draco to cry out again. She wanted to comfort him, but was too caught up in her nightmarish memories….

So great was her revulsion at his hands, his mouth, on her body that she had called up reserves of strength she hadn't even known she'd still possessed, and managed to jerk away from him, as far as her bonds would allow. Lucius had hissed angrily in her ear and, grabbing a fistful of her thick hair, had twisted her head around violently, forcing her to look at him.

"I am sick to death of your damned Gryffindor defiance, mudblood bitch," he had spat in her face. She had stared mutely at him, already being under the silencing spell, her eyes full of hate, unflinching. "I was actually having second thoughts about killing you- I had been toying with the idea of keeping you a while longer as a plaything- but it is painfully obvious that you will never learn your place. Besides which-" his eyes had raked her body, which was covered in bruises, welts and blood, both dried and fresh, before returning to her face- "you're an appalling mess, mudbood. Really," and his mouth had twisted into a sadistic smile, "you should take better care of yourself." He had stepped back a bit, though still keeping one hand wound in her hair, and had rummaged through his robe with the other. "Yes, all things considered, I think I've gotten all the use out of you that I care to," he had said, as he had pulled a small bottle of vile-looking green liquid out of his robes, "but at least you will give me a last bit of entertainment by drinking this." He had yanked her head backwards by her hair while unstopping the bottle one-handed, then, finally releasing her hair, had plugged her nose until she was forced to open her mouth, which she had clamped tightly shut, to gasp for air. His other hand was ready with the bottle, and he had poured its contents down her throat, laughing and holding her mouth shut as she had twisted in her bonds, gagging, trying in vain to expel the noxious liquid. Only when he was sure she had swallowed it all did he release her. "So much for the plan of killing you at the meeting tonight- assuming I hadn't kept you as a fuck toy," he had said. "My followers will simply have to be content with the presence of your dead body. Perhaps I will allow them to mutilate it by way of compensation. In any event, if all goes as planned, I will still have Draco to kill in front of them. I still do expect him to turn up, you know, although as of right now he is officially too late to have any hope whatsoever of saving you. Not that he ever really did." He had broken off, laughing softly, and brought his lips to the base of her neck, kissing, sucking, marking her one final time. "The potion should begin to take effect in two hours," he had told her then, jumping nimbly from the bed to the floor; "I'll be back to watch. Until then, my little mudblood," and he had left her hanging there, sinking into darkness, the poison burning her throat and stomach. The last thing she had heard was the click of the door shutting behind him as the darkness had engulfed her.

And then she had awakened on her back, and Draco was there, and how long had it been? Two hours? She wasn't sure…but it was certainly possible, wasn't it?

Another spasm gripped her. Her back arched against the pain and her eyes flew open once more, locking on Draco's pale ones as he pulled her into his arms, holding her tight until she relaxed, gasping. "Sweet," she whispered as soon as she felt able; "it smelled…sweet…like- like licorice. But tasted…awful- worse than pol- polyjuice."

Draco, crushing her against him, rocking her slightly, wondered fleetingly how the hell she would know what polyjuice potion tasted like. This line of thought was cut off, however, as she continued; "I knew…ungh… it was b-bad. I didn't want to drink it. He m-made me. Said…he'd got all the use out of me…he cared to." Draco could feel a veritable howl of rage building in his throat, but before he could indulge in it, she convulsed again with a cry, her hands balling into fists in the material of his shirt, and he found himself instead whispering soothing words to her until the tremor passed.

"Two…hours," she gasped, when she again lay limp in his arms, panting, her hair now damp with perspiration; "he said he'd be…back…back in…two hours to watch the effects. Said he would find it…amusing. Draco-" she turned her eyes up to his, and he noted with dull horror that the far-off look was back; her eyes were starting to glaze and it looked as though she were seeing him through a thick curtain of smoked glass- "I don't- ugh- want the horrible…death he had planned for me. "Please," and she raised a hand once again to cup his cheek, "kill me quickly. Draco. Please. Please?"

He recoiled so sharply from this request that he nearly dropped her.

"You're MENTAL! I'm not going to fucking kill you!"

"Draco," she whispered, as her body shook and her eyes grew dimmer by the moment, "I'm dying anyway. Just please…it HURTS!"

"I DON'T BLOODY WELL CARE IF IT HURTS!" he shouted. "Hermione, listen! I need you to LISTEN to me!" He shook her hard, then gripped her face in both his hands again, staring intently into her eyes. "Listen. You know me. I'm a goddamn selfish bastard- you bloody well knew that going in. You knew what you were getting into in that regard. Now you ask me to end your pain- well, I won't do it! Not when it means destroying the only thing in the world that I love with all my soul. I'm too fucking selfish to do that because I want you alive, I need you alive, I will NOT kill you! Now listen, fucking LISTEN!" He shook her again because her eyes were drifting closed- "We have one thing going for us. My father's poisons are slow-acting, since he likes to watch his victims suffer. So time is on our side. I'm getting you back to Hogwarts and Professor Snape will know a way to fix this! He has- has to- know-" he choked off because he was losing the battle that he was waging against the screams and sobs that were threatening to wrench themselves from his throat.

A moment later, after somewhat regaining his composure, he bent and gently kissed the tip of her nose. She was still looking up at him, but her eyes were distant and dull. "Hermione," he murmured, "I know it hurts. But I'm asking you to bear the pain and to fight this, for me- please. I'm not going to release you from your pain- I can't do it. I'm that selfish, that I'd rather see you suffer if it means you'll pull through and live. Because I need you in my life- every day of my life- for the rest of my life. Hermione- I want you to be my wife."

She blinked hard, and suddenly her eyes looked a whole lot clearer. Cocking her head slightly, she met his pale gaze with an expression of disbelief on her face. "You're…proposing?" she whispered. "NOW?"

Draco cracked a tiny smile, through the tears that continued to fall, at her incredulous reaction. "Yes," he said, "I'm proposing. Now. For better or worse, and since I don't see how things can get much worse, this seems to me like the perfect time to propose; it can only get better from here. If you'll fight. Hermione- I know it must hurt like a bastard, but please say you'll fight this. Please say my love is worth fighting for. Please?"

She pressed her eyes closed against another spasm, but when it passed and she opened them again, they were still clear, still aware- filled with pain, but she was still with him. "I'll try," she said.

"Thank you," he replied, his voice cracking. Then, before he could say anything else, there came the sound a tremendous crash from just below his room. He started, poised to throw himself over Hermione should she need protection, but then, a second later, he realized what the sound must have been. "Diversion," he muttered; "there was the diversion." And then, "I'm getting you the hell out of here, now."

He pulled her to the edge of the bed and up into a sitting position, her feet on the floor. "Can you sit up alone?" he asked, and she nodded mutely, gritting her teeth against the pain that was coursing throughout her body. With supreme effort, she kept herself upright as he let go of her in order to strip off his shirt and place it on her, drawing it gently over her head and helping her push her arms, which didn't seem to want to obey her, into the too-long sleeves. As he did this, he explained to her that he had a portkey with him that would get them back to Hogwarts- it would land them right on the front steps, in fact- but they had to get out of the manor and past the gates before he could activate it. He was talking to himself as much as to her, in an effort to stave off his impending hysteria. Which was just as well, because it didn't look like very much of what he was saying was registering in her mind at all. "Portkeys don't work on the grounds of the manor, nor does apparition. Father's security measures," he said, his voice tight with hatred. Once she was clothed in his shirt, he scooped her easily into his arms, catching her just as her strength gave out and she collapsed forward. Settling her with infinite tenderness against his now bare chest, he sprinted out the bedroom door, forgetting all about the invisibility cloak in his haste, leaving it lying, a puddle of silvery fabric, on his bedroom floor.

As he raced down the huge manor's seemingly endless upstairs hall, Draco could feel the tremors that continued to wrack Hermione's body as he cradled her in his arms. Someone who didn't know that she was fighting the effects of a cruel and deadly poison might have thought she was suffering from severe hiccups.

Draco ran as though his life depended on it, because in a way, it did. She WAS his life; his heart, his soul. If she died in his arms it would be a fate worse than death; it would be akin to a Dementor's Kiss because he would be left alive- technically- but without his soul. Without any reason whatsoever to go on.

00000

By the time Harry caused the chandelier to fall, Ron had already created his own diversion and, not having received any response whatsoever, concluded that Lucius and whoever else was currently in the house must have been a lot closer to Harry's location than his own. Consequently, just as Lucius began firing spells at Harry, Ron was racing not toward the gate at the edge of the manor's land, but back through the house in the direction Harry had taken, all thought of escape gone from his mind, bent solely on finding his best friend.

He didn't know how he knew, but something was wrong with Harry. His friend had come to harm. He knew this with a deep, instinctual surety- a surety born, perhaps, of seven years of best-friendship with a boy who, it seemed at times, could barely go a month without having an attempt made on his life by the forces of evil- and he knew also that there was no way he was leaving this house without Harry safe beside him.

He could trust Malfoy to get Hermione out, but there was no one to get Harry out but him. Damned if he was just going to cut and run.

All thoughts of stealth gone from his mind, he tore through the dimly lit halls of Malfoy Manor, putting on a fresh burst of speed when he heard shouting voices up ahead, silently begging Harry to hold his own for just a little while longer- he was almost there.

00000

"Protego!" Harry cried desperately, deflecting- just barely- yet another jet of light from Lucius' wand. He wasn't familiar with any of the curses Lucius was hurling at him- he wouldn't be, as they were all undoubtedly dark magic- but he was absolutely certain that any one of them, should it actually hit him, would in all likelihood result in a horrible death…or maybe just horrendous pain…or both.

Caught completely off-guard when Lucius had borne down upon him with such stunning swiftness, Harry had been at a disadvantage from the get-go. Lucius had started hurling spells at him instantly, practically before he was all the way through the door, forcing Harry immediately into defense mode, and he had been caught in defense mode ever since. It was all he could do to protect himself from the elder Malfoy's vicious onslaught by dodging and deflecting the curses that were coming his way in a steady stream- Lucius had not given him one single opening in which to take the offensive.

Though in reality it had been only minutes, it seemed as if it had been going on forever.

It was a constant, relentless attack; curse after curse after vicious, deadly curse.

He was getting tired.

Any second now, his strength would flag, his concentration would slip, he would be too slow, he would make a mistake-

And it would cost him his life.

He knew this.

And so it came as no great surprise when a spell did indeed finally hit him. The only surprise was what spell it was- after all the sinister curses Lucius had been spouting, what should finally slam into him but a simple Immobulus spell?

It was enough, though, to render him helpless and put him at Lucius' nonexistent mercy. It attached his feet to the floor as if they had been nailed there, rendering him unable to dodge any further spells his adversary should send at him, and while he was distracted, trying to yank his feet off the floor, Lucius took gleeful advantage of his panicked state and easily Accio'd his wand, which he then tossed away, through the door of his study, into the shadows beyond.

At this point, Harry finally stopped struggling against the spell which was holding him in place and stood stock still, breathing hard, his green eyes fixed unflinchingly on Lucius, glaring at him with hatred and defiance. He knew it was all over for him. He only hoped that by now Draco, Hermione and Ron were all out of the manor and on their way back to Hogwarts.

Please, he prayed silently, let them be safe. If they're all safe, then it's worth it. I knew the risks coming here, I accepted them- I still do. Just so long as they're safe- no regrets.

Lucius was surveying him with a cold smile and a cruel gleam in his eye.

"So, Potter," he drawled at length, "this is a surprise. I must admit, I never expected to see you here. Did you come alone?"

Harry's eyes narrowed to slits. His only response was a rather rude comment involving Lucius' mother, a jar of marmalade, and the latest model broomstick.

That wiped the smile off Lucius' pale face.

He had been twirling his wand idly ever since having tossed Harry's aside, knowing that the boy no longer posed him a threat, but now he raised it again, leveling it at Harry's chest.

"You cannot imagine the pleasure it will give me," he hissed, "to accomplish what my predecessor never could. Imagine the reaction tonight when I produce for my loyal followers not only the mudblood's body, but yours as well. I had hoped to procure my son for this evening's…festivities, but you'll do, Potter. You'll do well enough."

Harry took a deep breath, closing his emerald eyes briefly as he did so. When he opened them again, they were calm, resigned. "Go fuck yourself," he advised, in a pleasant, conversational tone.

Lucius sucked in a sharp breath, barely able to comprehend, as when Hermione had spit upon him, that anyone would dare treat him in this manner. "I've had about enough of your dirty mouth, boy," he ground out from between clenched teeth. "Give the mudblood my regards- she'll be joining you very shortly. Avada Kedavra."

00000

What happened next happened so fast it was a blur.

Ron, whose approach had gone unnoticed by both Harry and Lucius, so riveted were they on one another, was several feet away and closing fast when Harry's situation took an abrupt turn from bad to worse. Well, no, actually- to be more accurate, Harry's situation skipped "worse" entirely and went straight from bad to terminal. This was, of course, the direct result of Harry's suggestion that Lucius go fuck himself- Goddamn it, Harry, Ron thought furiously, of all the lousy fucking times to mouth off-

He had been reaching for his wand in order to Stupefy Lucius, but saw immediately that it was no good- he was out of time. Even as Lucius' lips were forming the words of the killing curse, Ron realized with perfect, aching clarity that he had lost any chance of stopping the spell from being cast. The only chance he had left to save his friend was to place himself between deadly green light that was even now gathering at the tip of Lucius' wand, and Harry.

There was no debate, no hesitation.

Indeed, the only thought that ran through his mind in that instant, as he launched himself at Harry, whose eyes, just beginning to widen with shock, finally fixed on him, was, Thank God I'm close enough, thank God, thank God, thank-

And then, quite suddenly, even as he was airborne, the green of Harry's startled eyes seemed to leap out at him…in fact, the whole world went green in a brief, intense flash.

And then there was nothing.

Nothing at all.

00000

Lucius saw the curse slam into…well, one of the boys, but he couldn't tell which one. It all happened so fast. Maybe it had managed to hit them both, he thought hopefully. It was a rare occurrence, but not unheard of. Then they were falling together, the momentum with which the Weasley boy- for Lucius now saw that was who it had to be- there was no mistaking that hair- had hurled himself at Potter driving them both down. Harry's feet remained fixed to the floor, however, held in place by the spell. This caused him to fall awkwardly, his head impacting the polished flagstones with a resounding thwack. Then both boys lay perfectly still, Ron splayed out across Harry, their faces nearly touching, red hair mingling with black.

Lucius stared down at the two boys lying tangled together in an unmoving heap on the floor, a triumphant sneer curling the side of his mouth.

"Two birds with one stone," he murmured with immense satisfaction.

He started to move forward to check them, just to make absolutely sure, but then stopped again, arrested by a sudden thought. When he had first seen Harry, a large part of the fury he had felt had come from the assumption that his presence at the manor meant Draco had decided not to come home after all- that his son had retained enough Slytherin tendencies to send Potter instead, to do his dirty work for him. The thought that he was to be denied the opportunity to capture his son had filled him with a rage so intense it was abnormal even for him. But now…

He thought hard for a moment. Potter was here. Weasley was here. Who was to say that Draco was not also here somewhere- that they had not all come together- a bloody team effort? How very Gryffindor that would be, after all. He hissed in a sudden breath as everything clicked in his mind. Yes, it all made sense- the three boys would arrive together; Draco, the only one among them who knew his way around, would immediately embark upon rescuing his mudblood girlfriend while these two- these two-

"Diversion," he muttered aloud, his eyes coming to rest on the shattered chandelier. These two had been sent off in opposite directions to deliberately make noise, to cause a diversion.

So that Draco could get the mudblood out unimpeded.

"Shit!"

Without another thought for the two boys at his feet, Lucius whirled and made for the manor's central hall and staircase at a dead run.