Twenty-Four Hours

Twenty-Four Hours

By Michelle Malfoy

Chapter Seven

Any moment

Everything can change

Feel the wind on your shoulders

For a minute

All the world can wait

Let go of your yesterday

Can you hear it coming?

Can you feel it in your soul?

Can you justify it

And take control?

~Fly by Hilary Duff

"Sit down," Lucius commanded his daughter, gesturing to a chair opposite his desk. Michelle did so, and as she did, Lucius noticed that her eyes were pinkish and swollen, if only a bit, but Lucius was known to observe things like that. Curiously (and yet he still made it sound imperative), he asked, "Were you crying?"

"No, Father," Michelle replied monotonously. "I spilled some potion on my eye." Lucius looked her over, spying for a trace of untruth, but finding none, he relaxed in his chair.

"Were you taunting the prisoner, as I asked? For we know that Draco cannot be trusted to do such things without using his favorite two curses on Potter." Crucio and Imperio, Michelle thought with a wry internal grin. Strange how someone could actually like using those curses. I only did it to impress Father. But Draco could do anything and Father wouldn't be exactly impressed, only bitter.

"Yes, Father," the girl drawled. "Taunting him endlessly... it really was a shame you weren't there."

Lucius slapped his daughter across the face. "Liar," he spat. "You were socializing with him. You were pitying him." He slapped her again. Michelle winced, but did not say anything. She could put up with a little pain. No problem. "Did you help him plot, too?" he hissed, slipping his hand into his pocket for his wand.

"No, Father," Michelle said tonelessly.

Lucius grasped his wand, his fingers steady, and focused it on his daughter. Michelle couldn't help it - she leaned her chair backwards so as to put more distance between her and her father.

"Cru - "

"No!" Michelle yelled. "No, Father, it was only part of the Plan." She looked up at him with wide, innocent eyes.

"It was?" Lucius sounded taken aback, but quickly maintained his original self-confidence. "I see. Well, it was excellent acting. Keep up the good work." And with that, he ushered the girl out of his office, seething internally out of making such a fool of himself.

* * *

"You don't understand," she whispered. "I can't risk another episode like that. I want to save you, but I don't know how."

"Surely there's someone you can trust enough to ask for advice," Harry scowled, sounding rather annoyed.

"Er... you mean Granger? But she's just as imprisoned as you are..."

"What?" Harry demanded. "Hermione's here too? And - and Ron?" Michelle nodded. "Well, that's just great," Harry sighed. "I thought they were safe. They're not safe here, Michelle."

"I know that," Michelle snapped. "Of course they're not safe. None of us are safe - not me, not Draco, and certainly not you. And not Rita Skeeter, either, although she thinks she is."

"Yeah... Malfoy."

"Huh?"

"I mean, Dra- Draco." The word sounded odd, coming from Harry, who was used to calling the boy Malfoy, but as so much else in his life had been so lopsided lately, it wasn't such a surprise that he was lowered to referring to his worst enemy on a first-name term. "Can you trust him? I mean..."

"But he has all that power over you," Michelle mused. "He could prove to be a useful ally... if we can trust him, that is."

"Which we obviously can't," Harry supplied. "He's so close to your father..."

"Not so," Michelle sang. "Father crucio-ed him earlier, so he's not feeling all that loving towards him now. He's feeling... defiant, honestly." Harry raised his eyebrows. "Yes, odd, I know," Michelle sighed, "but that can be used to our advantage.

"Yeah," Harry groaned. "Are you sure you can't unlock these chains?"

"Not without Father knowing, I can't," Michelle replied. "That's how we found out about Rita. When you were unlocked, Father knew, and he raced over to that chamber before you could escape." She grimaced. "I guess he didn't have to."

"Guess not," Harry spat, directing the nastiness of the comment more towards Lucius than Michelle. "Anyway," he added, "could you figure out where Draco stands, please? Ask him in such a way that he can't figure out what we're planning until we know if he's in or out." Michelle nodded. "See you later," Harry called as she hovered herself down to the ground from the platform. "Oh, and Michelle?" he called, wincing from saying her name.

"Yeah?" she called back.

"Thanks," Harry sighed.

* * *

"What?" chorused Lucius, Peter, and Victoria Plemmet.

"I said," repeated Draco, "that Michelle is trying to figure out an escape plan for Potter. She was intending to ask me for help," he said smugly, "but of course I wouldn't dream of assisting her. I overheard all this and came back to tell you before she would have a chance to ask me to help the prisoner."

"And why," Victoria asked, "would you be telling us this if you are angry at your father?"

"I want to prove that I can be trusted," Draco snapped. "I'm seventeen. You can trust me, all of you. And, you know," he added with a smirk, "I make an excellent spy."

His father scrutinized him, checking for a sign of unreliability as he had Michelle. Victoria spoke first. "Lucius, I think you should put the boy to this test. You'll see just how well he can perform in the areas of wits, strength, and cunning." Thinking this over, Lucius tapped his chin lightly.

"I suppose you're right, Plemmet. However," he added, "we don't need a spy. We have all our necessary captives held right here in this castle. And it would be all too easy to just chain Michelle up and then kill the Potter boy. Then we could just kill Granger, Weasley, and finally Michelle."

"You'd kill your own daughter?" Peter breathed. Whether he was awed or horrified nobody knew.

"If it would help him get more power," Victoria laughed, "Lucius would do anything." Casually and unnoticed, Draco sank into the shadows, thinking.

* * *

There the two of them were again, sitting in the boy's 'prison' while plotting an escape route. "Harry," Michelle sighed, "I've decided against asking Draco for help." She lowered her voice. "He wasn't in his suite just now, and I'm pretty sure I heard his voice in the Meeting Room. That's where the Death Eaters have all their meetings, obviously, and if I heard him in there... well, that's not good."

"What was he saying?"

"Well... that's just it. He heard us planning to get you out of here. And he was telling the Death Eaters about that."

Trembling, Harry asked, "And what did they say?"

"Harry," Michelle sighed, "they're going to put me in that dungeon so we can't plot together. And they're going to kill you... and your friends... and then me."

For a moment Harry looked as if he was going to comfort the girl, then pulled back his hand, thinking better of it. All he said was, "Oh." Finally, after several minutes, he said to her, "Why kill you? Wouldn't they try to get you back on their side?" Michelle shook her head. "And what would you do if they did try to get you onto their side?" Harry asked.

Michelle looked all around the room, taking in everything from Harry's eyes to the cold stone floor to the chains on her friend... and then sighed, "I'd refuse, of course." Harry raised his eyebrows, and Michelle giggled. "Just because I'm a Slytherin - and a Malfoy - doesn't mean that I'm homocidal."

"Nice to know," came a drawl from the corner. Michelle and Harry sucked in their breath as they saw who it was walking out to the center of the room - none other than Draco. And with him came his father, Victoria, Peter, and a whole crowd of other Death Eaters. And there was no point hoping that they hadn't heard much, either. For Lucius magically lowered the platform so it was about his height, now in the form of a cell with bars on the end, and pressed his wand directly against Harry's throat.

All Harry knew, his hand holding tightly to Michelle's, was that the only thing he knew for sure was that he had just a few people that he could count on - and with a jolt, he realized that the youngest Malfoy was one of them.

* * *

"No," Lucius decided. "No... the Dark Lord would prefer to do it with an audience. Particularly those two." He pointed a long, delicate finger at Hermione and Ron, shivering in the corner. Harry's eyes widened as he spotted them, but he didn't say a word. Lucius's wand was too tightly pressed against his throat anyway. Michelle clutched his hand tightly, and as her father rounded on her, Harry squeezed her hand even more tightly. "My own daughter," Lucius said softly. "My own daughter, helping the Dark Lord's prisoner to escape. What a shame." Then he turned to face Crabbe and Goyle behind him, and said to the bulky men, "Take her. Chain her up in the dungeon with Weasley and the Mudblood." The two of them quickly hurried over to her.

"Ah, yes," Lucius realized, and the bars vanished from the cell. Goyle - or was it Crabbe - pried Harry's fingers off of Michelle's hand and Crabbe - or was it Goyle - then grabbed the girl and carried her away. The first one walked over to Hermione and Ron and then dragged them away as well.

"Well, Potter," the Mr. Malfoy drawled when all his other prisoners had been forcefully taken out of the room. "It seems you're in a tight fix, now aren't you?" Harry scowled at him. "And to think that you corrupted my daughter... that means that her death will be all your fault... tsk tsk tsk."

Harry tried to ignore him, but the jabbing pain from the wand pushed against his throat forced him to pay attention to Lucius. "We will torture the Mudblood first," Lucius continued. "And we'll force you to watch. And then as we kill you, they'll have to watch, powerless." He smirked at the look on his prisoner's face - emotionless on the surface, but clearly his mind was filled with malevolence and hatred.

"But for now," he said softly, "let's see what you make of this." He snapped his fingers and suddenly, at least fifty dementors were gliding towards Harry. Lucius disapparated with a crack, leaving Harry alone to deal with the 'terror machines.

* * *

"Malfoy? What are you doing here?"

"I happen to be a prisoner, just like you," Michelle snapped. "Please don't rub it in." Ron scowled at her.

"But why - why would you be a prisoner here? I thought you were helping Him."

"Apparantly, so did everyone else."

"Ron," spoke up Hermione quietly, "back in that chamber..."

"Yeah?" the boy asked her.

"...she was holding Harry's hand."

Ron spun around to face Michelle. "Is that true?" Michelle nodded. "What were you trying to do? Oh, don't tell me, let me guess - this is all some part of your stupid Plan. It's not going to work!"

"Chill, Weasley," Michelle growled. "If it was part of the Plan, do you think I'd be chained in this dungeon, about to be killed by my own father?"

Ron had the grace to look abashed. "Oh," he muttered, "I'd forgotten about that."

"Harry trusts me," Michelle said sharply. "He trusts me enough to let me plan our would-be escape. However," she added bitterly, "I doubt that that escape will be taking place any time in the near future."

"No... you think?" Ron asked nastily. "And who's fault is that?"

"Actually," Hermione put in, "It's Malfoy's, for telling his father, and Lucius's, for chaining us and Michelle in the dungeon, and of course, it's Michelle's and Harry's, for not speaking more quietly."

"True," Michelle agreed. "True. But what can we do to change that fact? Nothing. So what does it matter whose fault it is?"

"I think," Ron spat, "that it matters so I know who to brutally murder when we get out of this place."

"If we get out of this place," reminded Michelle cheerfully.

"Oh, we will," Hermione assured them, "but probably just to watch the Death Eaters ki-- torture, that is, certainly not kill-- Harry. And then we'll escape and we'll all live happily ever after."

"Sadist," Ron muttered.

"For once, Weasley, I agree," Michelle confirmed. "However," she added quickly, "it will not happen again." Ron nodded frantically.

* * *

"Hey, Michelle... remember Dylan?" Ron asked abruptly.

"Burkhard?"

"Yeah. And his sister... Evelyn?"

"Yeah."

"What happened to them? I kind of forgot."

"Ever read a fairy tale, Weasley?"

"Yeah. So?"

"What happens to the evil bad guys at the end?" Michelle asked in a mocking tone.

"They... die?"

"Yeah... and a big gold star for effort."

"Shut up, both of you," Hermione snapped. "Speaking of fairy tales, Malfoy, what do you think the captives do at this point in the story?" Without waiting for an answer, she said, "they plot, and try to escape. Sorry if it's a new concept for you, being spoiled and not exposed to danger and all, but there's this thing, see, it's called survival. Either we get out of here alive, or we die. It's that simple."

Michelle and Ron gaped at her. Then they stared at each other, and quickly looked away. A moment later, the door creaked open and the three prisoners were amazed to see Rita standing there, hands crossed over her chest, with a nasty smirk on her face.

"Oh, lord, no," Ron wailed into his hands. "It's her again."

"There's that agreement again," Michelle moaned in an equally disappointed tone. "I can't believe I'm agreeing with Weasley."

"Shut up," Hermione snapped, her eyes flickering to the bickering prisoners and then back to Rita. "What do you want?" she asked coldly.

"Déjà vü," Rita commented softly. "And I have been asked to bring you into the Ceremonial Chamber." She didn't have to say why. Everyone present knew precisely why they were being brought there.

"However, Miss Malfoy," she drawled, turning her turquoise eyes on the youngest of the captives, "your father sent me a message for you. He is offering you --"

"No thank you, Skeeter," Michelle said coldly. "I fell for that once; it's not happening again."

Taken aback, a look of surprise crossed Rita's face. "You do know," she said, "that in doing that you just threw away your life. What do you have to say to that?"

Michelle smiled, and Ron saw the shadow of the cruel smile she had had when he had first entered the castle. "I say," Michelle began, "that you can just fuck off." [A/N: I know that it's unlikely that a ten-year-old would speak that way, but I say that she would, and I'm the author.]

Rita looked like she had been slapped, but she quickly got over that. She quickly uttered a spell and the three prisoners were now hovering behind her, being pulled by invisible ropes. [A/N: No, it's not Dark Magic, because she couldn't possibly have learned Dark Magic in three hours, or whatever...]

* * *

"Well, well, well," Lucius sighed, gazing at the four prisoners scattered throughout the chamber: Harry, Michelle, Hermione, and Ron. "Who shall go first?" Then, remembering his previous threat, he laid cold gray eyes on Hermione. "Goyle, Crabbe," he ordered, "Bring her to the platform and chain her there." The two bulky men rushed to do as he said, grabbing Hermione roughly and levitating her up to the platform where Harry sat. From there, Lucius performed a Binding Hex, and he and his fellow Death Eaters apparated onto the platform, shortly followed by Voldemort.

"Ah, fairly well done, Lucius," Voldemort said softly, admiring the strong bonds that held Hermione in place. And eyeing Harry, he nodded curtly. "Yes, well done. Now," he said, turning to his chief servant, "what are you doing with your daughter?"

Had it not been for Harry, she might have gotten away with it. But no, the moment he heard his enemy mention 'Lucius's daughter,' he perked his head up and looked around, wide-eyed, hoping for a glimpse of her. "She will have to be killed, of course," Lucius said decisively after seeing Harry's pointess display of caring for her.

"However," Lucius said, "back to the task at hand." He groped in his pocket for his wand, brandished it at Hermione, and whispered, "Crucio."

And it was pain - not only for Hermione, but for Harry as well, who felt every ounce of pain five times over, wanting to cry out, to help her, but knowing that he couldn't. He could hear himself wailing more than she was, wanting to stop the pain desperately. And then - Lucius took his hand away, caressing his wand lovingly, and Hermione threw herself onto the floor, weeping.

"That is enough," Lucius said sternly, and with a quick spell he tightened the chains fastening her to the wall. "Now." He laid a cold finger on Harry's shoulder, and it was all Harry could do to keep from wincing.

"Now," he repeated, and turned, with an evil smile, to face his son. "Will you do it," he asked, "or should I?"