"Why must you be so reluctant to accept the truth of this world?" His constant rejection would not serve him favorably. Dahvie was at least gifted with a few remnants of her prior humanity before getting involved with Voldemort, the other Death Eaters would show George no kindness. Rather than inflict another Crucitatus Curse on the weakened lad, Dahvie placed her wand safely behind her right ear and offered both hands to George. Lifting him from the disgusting floor and escorted George to a broken chair, at least it was somewhere he could rest.
Silence engulfed the room as she allowed George a few minutes to recuperate from the curse. Finally after about thirty minutes of absolute awkwardness, someone knocked at the door and Dahvie waved her hand which allowed the locks to vanish and welcomed the unknown visitor inside. To her surprise, it wasn't Greyback, but instead another fellow Death Eater that seemed immediately displeased to find the prisoner relaxing.
"Okoffey," the man barked, anger present in his voice. "Why is he not receiving punishment?"
Dahvie scoffed, not at all frightened, "Watch yourself and the manner in which you speak to me." She would not tolerate his rude behavior. "This Weasley is entrusted to my decisions and I shall do with him as I wish."
Dahvie grabbed George at the wrist, her hand above the chain cuffs and yanked him to her side. Surprisingly with ease, despite her short frame, even in the combat-ready boots she constantly wears, George easily towers of her. "I am taking this Weasley to be questioned," Dahvie announced, shoving herself past the dumbfounded Death Eater and guided George up the staircase.
Once at the top of the stairs, no longer locked inside the dungeon, Dahvie appriated herself and George to a room of emerald green and black. A beautifully decorated room that suited the personality of it's owner, Dahvie, herself. Showing him a moment of kindness again, Dahvie removed the chains from his wrists. "Do not act stupidly, I do not wish to exert myself right now." She warned, casting a seal inside the entire room which would make it impossible for him to escape.
Lucius and Narcissia called the children, more specifically the young adults, down to the living room as the clock struck five-past-two in the afternoon. The Malfoy heir went to Eudora's bedroom, knocked gently on the door and waited in the hall. When she finally answered, Draco explained that it was time to leave. He assisted her with a few bags, carrying his own as well and began descending the stairs with her following closely behind.
Narcissia gently took Eudora's hand and held the younger female at her side closely. "We'll be appriating there and it's a fairly long journey, so keep hold of my hand and don't let go."
"Unless you want to be splinched," Lucius remarked rudely, earning a curt glare from his wife.
Draco stood at Eudora's side, his right hand free and reached for her wrist. Lucius had already gripped his wife's forearm and together the appriation began. As Narcissia had warned, the journey was agonizingly uncomfortable and several moments arose where Draco had felt the bile arise in his throat.
When they arrived, Draco immediately collapsed to the filth covered floor and dry heaved a few times. Narcissia kneeled down to her son's aid, supplying him with a few drops of water from her canteen. She had brought it along as the sliver treasure has been her the Black family for generations, it would soon be Draco's.
Thankfully the sips of water settled the churning inside Draco's angered stomach. A couple approached from the shadows, their blond hair seemingly white beneath the moon. "Welcome," the man addressed, bowing his hand to the females, Narcissia and Eudora. His flawless skin sparkling in the fair light, while his wife's lips turned up a smile and her presence seemed almost befitting a Goddess.
"We're the Okoffey, it's been a while since we last shared each other's company." The wife spoke in a tone of grace, but Draco saw the Dark Marks burned onto their arms and knew these two were not beyond the acts of violence.
"Our daughter, Dahvie, is currently preoccupied with a member of the resistance and shall not be joining us till dinner." Mr. Okoffey explained, "However, we will be showing you to the rooms which shall be yours for the time."
"I believe proper introductions are in order, my dear."
"Oh yes, of course."
He extended a hand to each of them, speaking his name with pride. "Pastoral Okoffey and this is my wife," he turned a eye to her.
"Madeleine Okoffey," she smiled, her grip feathery and light.