Draco and the Muggle Hospital

Draco is without his wand when his wife is injured. He is forced to let go of his Muggle prejudices in order to seek medical help for her…

Or will the shock of the accident force him to see that there is more to Muggles than meets the eye?

~~~1~~~

Draco cradled his wife in his arms as the sirens began to sound. Frantically he searched for his wand, or her wand, between the feet and knees of the Muggles around them...

It happened so fast. His wife had been standing in front of him just before the sounds assaulted his ears: horns, screeching of the vehicle sliding, a loud bang, continued screeching of tires abrading on the street, crunching, glass shattering, the sound of metal sliding on the pavement, screams… Draco, several paces behind her, threw himself back, jumping back between two parked cars as soon as he heard the horn and screeching tires. He lost his footing and fell, his ankle twisting painfully, and he banged his hip hard on one of the bumpers. Pain dazed, he had sat there for a few seconds, the sounds echoing in his head. Only when the noises changed did he try to rise. When he struggled to his feet, he heard the commotion in the street, apparently about the accident, people shouting… a woman screaming….

Apparating to this ridiculous establishment, what a great idea! It was a Muggle restaurant that called itself a jazz club and one that she had taken him to several times while they had courted. She had pleaded with him to bring her here tonight. As if I could deny her. She loves this place so much simply because she likes the music that the small bands play while we eat. She had been teasing him as she crossed the street – looking over her shoulder. She should simply have Apparated across the street and gotten away from this mess. None of these idiotic Muggles would have even noticed! She will be waiting for me across the street.

Draco let out a sigh of relief when he didn't see his wife on the street and scanned across the other side, looking for her. She wasn't standing over there waiting for him… She isn't… but then he saw her, lying on the walkway… Muggles swarming to her… suddenly surrounding the crumpled form of his true love, Astoria Malfoy.

She hadn't seen the black cab as it swerved to miss her, colliding into another vehicle, making the black cab spin wildly and the white car to lose control. Both cars then careened into each other a second time, and the smaller white one rolled and bumped up onto the curb… The black one halted in the middle of the street.

He pushed his way to her side, calling her name, unaware that the Muggles were moving to let him through. His ankle twisted again as he crossed the street, passing the crumpled cars, and pain shot up his leg. He nearly fell again. Astoria . The pain in his hip was both sharp and throbbing, but he ignored it as he fell to his knees by her side. "Astoria ? Love, can you hear me? Open your eyes," he asked, gently touching her. "Please, Astoria …"

"Don't move her, man," a male voice had the audacity to tell him.

"Of course I'm going to move her, you idiot. I have to get her to the hospital." He hadn't even realized that he had spoken. I can't – shouldn't Apparate with her. His mind warred with his desires to simply take her in his arms and leave. His head hurt; the pain was distracting. She cannot Side-Along Apparate like this – obviously. Can I get her to St Mungo's from here myself? It's halfway across England! If I can't wake her, and if I just take her, we could splinch – I could splinch her…

She was unconscious, bleeding from her nose, and her legs lay in awkward angles. I have to get her to St Mungo's. His mind raced as a Muggle told him to, "Hold on there, mister." Hold on to what?

"I've called nine-nine-nine, sir; they're coming," a man said. "It'll be all right," he said, sounding as if he was trying to reassure him. They're daft, I need a Healer, and I need to get her out of here!

"I hear them now," a woman said. Great – now what? Hear who? What is that repetitive wailing sound? I should send up the Distress Spell – alert someone I need help – I need help… My wand, where is my wand?

The sirens were much louder now, and a car with yellow and red stripes on the back and blue and yellow checks on the side stopped near the crunched up cars in the street. Two bright yellow, two-wheeled vehicles decorated with blue squares drove in between the crumpled cars, both men removing their helmets. One of the men in heavy leather trousers and yellow coat walked over to Draco and Astoria . The man in dark blue began to direct people away from him and Astoria . A similarly decorated, large, boxy vehicle with the word 'Ambulance' emblazoned on it appeared; the noise of the sirens, the flashing lights made it difficult for Draco to think.

My wand – I need my wand…. Concentrating hard, he focused his panicked will on one desire, one intent. I want my wand… "Accio wand," he said. After several tries, a splintered shaft of hawthorn finally flew into his hand, one-third of its length missing – useless. Astoria 's, where is Astoria 's? I can use hers…

The man in dark trousers and some kind of reflective jacket that read 'Ambulance' in gold across his back knelt down next to Astoria 's other side. His outfit was covered with pockets and had patches of symbols that meant nothing to Draco except for the name, Pelton, embroidered over one pocket. "It looks like she has fractures, both legs – possibly head trauma… Was she hit by the car?" He looked up at Draco. "What's her name?"

"Astoria Malfoy," Draco said, stunned, searching the pavement for his wife's golden ash wand. "I didn't see the car hit her… I was – dragons! I fell over – across the street."

Pelton nodded. "Astoria , can you respond? Astoria , if you can hear me, I need you to squeeze my hand." But nothing happened. "We have a female victim here, early twenties, Caucasian, RTA… possible concussion, fractures – bilateral tib fib with rotated angulation, left wrist considered. Vitals signs: pulse – tachy at one-twenty… BP is fifty-eight over palp; respirations shallow and rapid, twenty-three; pupils – right dilated and sluggish, left is fixed and dilated, non-responsive… possibly blown; temp ninety-seven point eight," Pelton rattled off into a black square hooked onto the epaulette on his shoulder. "Patient is non-responsive, but with painful stimuli; transport code three, patient rolled at eighteen, twenty-one."

A man dressed in dark green one piece that read 'Paramedic' in gold across his back and the name, Wilkins, embroidered over one pocket knelt down next to Draco, looking at both Astoria and Pelton with concern. "We can assume she has fractures, both legs, Denton, get the hare splints… and the back board…" Pelton said to a third man in the same type of dark green outfit with a bright yellow waistcoat. Denton nodded and walked back to the Ambulance. Pelton then turned and looked up at Draco. "Has she opened her eyes or responded in any way?" Draco numbly shook his head. The man in the yellow waistcoat, Denton, returned with Wilkins, carrying small trunks and cases by the handles, a board with straps and another device Draco couldn't identify. The faces around him were serious and – assured.

"I have to get her to the hospital," Draco said, sliding a strand of Astoria 's hair from her cheek. The board was laid down by his wife's side, and Denton seemed to be assembling the metal and strap device. Wilkins was fixing a collar around Astoria 's neck.

"That's what we intend to do, sir," Pelton said, looking at him, concern in his pale blue eyes.

"She needs a Healer," Draco persisted. Denton placed the contraption under Astoria 's legs, securing both feet in straps, then secured straps around her thighs, and pulled Astoria 's legs straight. Astoria moaned in pain. Draco cringed hearing his wife's pain, inwardly glad to hear any response from her at all.

"That's a good sign… On three, guys," Pelton said, and together with Wilkins and Denton, Astoria was lifted gently and placed on the board.

Wilkins smiled, patiently. "We'll get her to the hospital right away. She'll be fine," he said. A thin bed on wheels was brought over as one strong hand gently pulled Draco to move to the side and give them room. The three men lifted Astoria onto the bed and rolled her away. Draco tried to follow, but was delayed. "I need to know her name," Wilkins said, pulling out papers from a metal box.

"Astoria , Astoria Malfoy."

"Are you family?"

The men were rolling Astoria to the back of the vehicle and lifting her inside. "Husband," Draco said in disbelief. "I'm her husband."

"Are you all right, Mr. Malfoy?"

Draco snapped his attention back to the man talking to him. "All right? Of course I'm not all right. My wife has been hurt – she's been nearly killed!" Wilkins looked Draco appraisingly.

Draco wasn't sure exactly what the man was looking at. Even though Draco knew that the Muggle clothing he had on had cost a bundle, he still felt self-conscious without his robes. "Yes, I am fine!" Draco snapped. The man nodded.

"What is your address?" Draco tried to rise off the pavement and inhaled with pain. His hip hurt, his wrist ached, his ankle had swollen, and his head was throbbing. "Mr. Malfoy, are you all right? Did you get hurt?"

"Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire," Draco responded. "No, I just fell. I'm fine. Astoria ?" He stumbled slightly as his ankle gave painfully, and he had to grip Wilkins's hand to steady himself.

"You had best let me see to your ankle, Mr. Malfoy." Wilkins led Draco to the front of the other car as the large boxy vehicle they put Astoria in drove away, lights flashing and sirens blaring.

"Where are they taking her?" he nearly yelled, wanting to run after the vehicle. The vehicle's flashing lights and annoying siren were only increasing the tension he felt – the worry. "I want my wife back, Muggle!"

"They're taking her to the hospital, Mr. Malfoy. Don't worry, she's in good hands."

Wilkins lifted Draco's foot, flexing and rotating the ankle slightly, and Draco let out an angry hiss. "Hey, that hurts! Stop that," he snapped.

Wilkins simply gave him a sly, sympathetic smile and gently lowered the foot. "I can stabilize that ankle for you until we get to the hospital. You'll need to wear a support on it for a few days I suspect. Do you hurt anywhere else?"

"Where are they taking Astoria ?" Draco demanded as Wilkins removed his boot.

"Kent and Canterbury," Wilkins replied. "I'll be taking you there as well." He placed two strips of something from a silver package on his ankle and carefully wrapped the ankle with some kind of stretchy bandage. Whatever it was, it immediately felt warm and seemed to harden into a well-molded support for his ankle. "Now why don't you hop in, and I'll take you there."

The ride was excruciatingly slow. I could have Apparated and been there by now, he thought with a scowl. Only he had no idea where 'there' was. Astoria , I should have just taken us, he thought, annoyed. His head hurt and his concentration was weak, confused. Wilkins stopped at every light, waited until they turned green and proceeded thought the traffic.

Finally, after many turns, many junctions and crossroads, and with Draco drumming his fingers impatiently on his sleeve, they arrived at St Andrew's Memorial Medical Center. "Wait here, Mr. Malfoy, I'll bring a chair around," Wilkins suggested.

Draco didn't wait. He opened up the door and slid down to the pavement. Immediately the pain shot through his ankle and up his leg simultaneously as the pain in his hip jolted through the lower half of his body, and he nearly fell – except Wilkins appeared just in time to catch him. "Oh, I've got you. Easy now." With one swift movement Draco was sitting in a chair on wheels and being pushed into the building.

A woman in a dark blue dress and matching stockings gave Draco a board with forms attached to it by a metal clip. "If you would please, I need you have a seat and fill these forms out."

"I want to know where my wife is and what is being done to her," Draco snapped.

"Of course." She handed Draco a board and a… a blue stick with writing on the side. "I need you to fill out these forms. Someone will be with you shortly."

"I need a quill," Draco said impatiently, handing back the blue stick.

The woman made a check on the corner of the form with the stick. "This pen should work just fine," she said and left.

Draco stared at the form, then began filling in the spaces he understood. Name, Draco Abraxas Malfoy; age, twenty-three; address, Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire; date of birth, fifth of June, nineteen-eighty; occupation… the form went on forever. He filled in what he felt like giving them and signed the bottom. There was another form under the first and a third. He simply signed both.

After what seemed like ages, a woman dressed in soft blue top and matching draw-string trousers approached him, ushering him into a room lined with beds on wheels and indicating that Draco sit on the first bed. At least they're wider than the one they put Astoria on. He looked around wildly. "Astoria , where's my wife?" There isn't anyone else here… Where is my wife? Did that idiot Muggle bring me to the wrong place? "He said I'd see Astoria when we got here. I was going to be brought to her."

The woman pulled a curtain, effectively cutting off any hope of seeing Astoria anywhere. "Is that your wife? The ambulance brought in a young woman a while ago. She is in the Resuscitation Room, Mr. Malfoy, being attended to."

"And where exactly is that? I was told I would be taken to the same place as Astoria ." Draco was now getting angry. "Where is my wife and what is happening to her?"

The woman looked at Draco, confused, regarding him with concern and compassion in her eyes. "Your wife's here, sir. She is here at the A and E Causality Unit, in our Rhesus Room where we treat those who have been critically injured. The doctors are trying to stabilize her, sir. They will run some tests, get X-rays and CT scan, possibly a MRI scan. I can let them know that you are here. I know you must feel anxious about her," the woman said, smiling. "Doctor Sina will be with you shortly."

"Cee-tea scan? What are you talking about? I want my wife. I want to see her."

"I will let them know, sir. I'm sure someone will come and see you shortly," she said with a smile and left.

Again waiting what seemed ages until a tall Indian man appeared, who introduced himself as Doctor Sina, examined Draco's leg and ordered X-rays, but Doctor Sina told Draco that he didn't need a CT scan when he asked if he was to have one done. When he asked why, the explanation didn't make any sense. Another man came to take Draco to a room with a strange machine and cold table. Whatever the machine did – it was at least painless. As Draco waited back on the bed with wheels, another man in a long white coat appeared.

"Mr. Malfoy, I presume?" the man asked.

"Yes," Draco responded sourly.

"I'm Doctor Kensington," he said, undaunted. "I understand that you are the husband of a Astoria Malfoy?" Draco nodded, glaring at the man. "Your wife was seriously injured, Mr. Malfoy. She suffered a severe blow to her head, fractures to both of her legs, one wrist and her two lower ribs, and a hard impact to one kidney. We have stabilized her fractures, but we need to run tests on her kidney and her head. She is having a CT scan as we speak."

Draco's head was spinning at the list of injuries to his wife. "She needs a Healer."

"We are doing everything we can for her, I assure you, Mr. Malfoy," he replied in a soft even tone, a tone that Draco thought he was simply trying to pacify him.

"I want my wife!" Draco sneered.

"She is in radiology at the moment. I will keep you apprised of her situation and let you know if anything develops or if there are any changes."

Just as Doctor Kensington left, Doctor Sina reappeared. Draco sat with his arms crossed, barely listening to the man. "You are most fortunate, Mr. Malfoy. There are no fractures to your hip or your wrist, although I would like to give you a wrist support for you to wear for a few weeks. Your ankle has a bad sprain, but it will heal nicely. I am going to give you some pain medications and a walking boot for your ankle. I suggest that you wear it all the time: walking, standing and sleeping. You can remove it to take a bath, but I suggest that if you desire to shower, you must sit down on a stool or chair…" Draco's anger blocked out anything else the man said.

After what seemed hours, and two Muggles harassing him to complete the forms and to book Astoria in at a desk that was referred to as reception, Draco was allowed to wait in a room full of moaning, crying, pacing Muggles. Every time he asked the Muggle at the window leading to the other half of the hospital area where Astoria was, she simply told him she didn't know anything, to sit down, and that someone would come and tell him. If Draco had his wand, she would be covered in boils, warts, tentacles, have spikes growing into her scalp, screeching and squealing like an angry banshee, given skin and hands like a Kappa, and the breath of a Nundu… She was driving him as insane as a Fwooper's trill!

Finally Draco collapsed into a chair in the corner and propped his throbbing foot up on the armrest of the chair next to him and crossed his arms, scowling at anyone who even looked at him. He didn't want any Muggles sitting in that chair anyway. Every time some Muggle in the waiting room asked if the seat was occupied, he snapped, "Yes, by my foot," and glared at the little twit that ran around the room rearranging the magazines.

The boot they had given him to wear, a camwalker, was big and awkward, but at least his ankle had stopped hurting as much. The cumbersome device also gave him the support he needed to walk. The black wrist support was far more comfortable and less bothersome. He decided to wear them for now. Or at least until I can see a proper Healer, preferably sometime in my near future, he fumed.

One Muggle had her five kids with her and wasn't paying any of them the slightest mind except to say, "Hush now, come sit down," every so often. Not that it does any good. Those brats remind me of the Weasley twins – impossible, misbehaved miscreants, boisterous and annoying.

People passed in and out of self-opening doors: ones in dark blue dresses with matching stockings, women dressed in blouses and trousers, or blue drawstring pajamas and short sleeve tops, and others wearing long white coats over the green pajamas. Occasionally men or women passed through the doors he had been in and either left or walked down the hall deeper into the hospital. No one stopped or looked for him.

The waiting irked Draco, and he stared fixedly at the woman behind the window. Idiotic, half-witted, brainless, thick-headed, pathetic, inane, insipid, arrogant, mindless, driveling… he chanted until his ire rose so high the window that separated her from the waiting room cracked, making him smile as she jumped back into the cabinet behind her. A man in the same dark green outfit Wilkins wore pushed the broken glass widow open carefully and tried to calm down the startled woman. Serves you right, Muggle wench.

He closed his eyes, fuming to himself, trying to control the rage he felt inside. "Mr. Malfoy," a silky voice called out clearly from across the room.

Draco opened his eyes and turned his head. "Yes." Finally, it's about time.

A woman in the blue top and drawstring pajamas a few of the medical people wore, covered by a long, white coat stepped into the waiting area. Draco's breath caught in his throat as he saw her. "Mr. Malfoy?" she asked, her silky, resonate voice clear and calm. Draco stood, acknowledging his identity, and the woman walked over to him. He could feel her energy, the magical signature about her as she approached him… or it was simply a wishful hope. Either way the woman standing in the room exuded self-assurance.

She was tall, lean, with a thin face, silky black hair pulled back in a clip, and black eyes. One strand of hair hung loose, framing her face, giving her a familiar look. Draco regarded her warily. "What about my wife? When can I take her? What is going on?" His tone and expression were angry and frustrated. She looked up, regarding him a moment, then smiled at him with slight curl to her lip that tugged at his memory, that was all too familiar to Draco. "I know you," he said softly.

Her face was serene and composed, her black eyes intelligent and confident as she faced him. "Mr. Malfoy, I am Doctor Rowena Snape."

It was her eyes, his eyes, looking at him in that same silent 'regarding' expression he'd seen so often, and her lips pressed together the way his did. He doesn't have a sister? Or does he and I never knew it? Either way the woman standing in the room exuded self-assurance – not too dissimilar to his fellow Death Eater and Head of House, Professor Snape. The resemblance was truly uncanny.

"Mr. Malfoy, I am a surgeon here, and I have been assigned to your wife's care."

"My wife," Draco said automatically, staring at the woman.

"Your wife has been seriously wounded. Her fractures have been stabilized. We gave her an MRI scan, and she is scheduled for surgery. She received a serious head injury that caused a skull fracture and an intracranial hemorrhage, a bleeding within the brain that occurs frequently with her type of injury. This is a serious rupture that has developed, a hematoma is accumulating between the dura mater and the cranium. Although death is a potential complication, the prognosis is good when this injury is recognized and treated this early. You will be required to sign a consent form."

Draco's mind swirled as she handed him another clipboard and pen. "My wife needs a Healer. I need to take her to our hospital," he stated, taking the offered forms.

"If you remove her now, Mr. Malfoy, I assure you she will not make the trip to your hospital alive. I am fully confident that I can save your wife's life," she said reassuringly but firmly.

Draco stared into the sincere black eyes, seeing the same confidence his godfather exuded. "How bad is it?"

"Once you sign the consent, we are taking her right up to surgery. The hematoma is in the right occipital region of her brain and possibly one in the left frontal as well. Once we get the MRI results, we will know for sure." A woman in blue tunic and matching trousers appeared. "Nurse Grantham here will take care of the forms you need to sign. WE must have your consent, Mr. Malfoy, if we are to try and save your wife's life." She tapped the form and Draco signed his name. "I must also tell you that there are complications involved: paralysis, memory loss, loss of sight or reduced vision…"

Draco's head spun in worry, her voice fading slightly. They are going to do surgery on my wife, Astoria ! Oh, Circe, Astoria . I should have Apparated you to St. Mungo's… but I couldn't – oh, forgive me, I couldn't.

"Also, in the event of surgical complications, do you wish us to revive her?"

"Yes, you're to revive her! I want my wife alive," Draco snapped.

"Very well, Mr. Malfoy. As soon as the procedure is complete, I will be back to inform you." And with that she walked away through the doors that automatically swung open for her and was gone.

Author's Note:

I owe a huge debt of gratitude to my beta, Phoenix, for shifting through this fic as I had to do a major rewrite right after her first check through this chapter, after realizing that I had no clue about emergency medicine in the UK! Thanks ever so much for her infinite patience with me, she made my story readable.

And to several women: Heidi, Emma, Julia, Nikki and Tudorpot, who answered a plea for both Brit-picking and information on paramedics, nursing, uniforms and emergency medical response in general. Thanks all of you this story is slightly believable!