A/N: Another two-parter! This one takes place after all of the ones that have come so far - at a rough guess I'd say Evelyn and Caelum would be around 6 and 3? Doesn't have to be super precise.
On the day that it happened, it took far too long for Marilyn to realise that it had happened at all. Her first hint was when her phone rang during rehearsals - but her phone never rang, not during work, because her phone was on silent, turned off, and buried in the bottom of her bag. It was her emergency phone that was ringing, but it had never done so before. So she didn't realise. The beeping went on and on and on, all of them sharing aggravated looks with one another trying to work out whose it was and why that person didn't just damn well own up to it so it could be handled. It was such a testament to the fact that her phone never bloody rang during these types of things that nobody so much as glanced at her.
The beeping stopped, and not even thirty seconds passed before it sounded again and she heaved a sigh - even as Adriano held her high above his head, hands gripping the underside of her thighs as she tensed her core and held herself steady in the air.
"Alright, come on, this isn't an after-school club, people, I shouldn't be having to lecture you about phones ringing in bags-" the choreographer began.
Adriano's arms were starting to tremble beneath her, and Marilyn knew that if this telling off lasted much longer, she'd be punctuating the choreographer's lecture by falling and smacking her face off of the hardwood flooring. It was interrupted, however - this time not by ringing, but by the door to the studio slamming open and Dimitri running into the room. It was then that Marilyn connected the dots, and her blood turned to ice.
Her security detail had long since grown into a recognisable fixture around here, often posing as Muggles and working in tandem with whatever the actual company had in place during performance nights, and Adriano was already lowering her to the ground - but not nearly quickly enough, and she struggled out of his grasp and let herself fall the final few feet. She rolled her ankle on the landing but she didn't care, breaking away from him and running to Dimitri.
"What is it?" She demanded "Evelyn? Caelum? The nanny said they were staying at home today, I don't see what could have-"
It took Dimitri's hand landing heavily on her shoulder to shut her up, even as he fought to regain his breath after the sprinting he must've done to get here.
"Mr Malfoy," he breathed.
If there was something colder than ice, that was what her blood turned to next.
"What? No, what?! I don't - what?" she stared at him disbelievingly.
"An accident - or so we think, currently. At his work. I have men looking into-"
"Where is he? How is he?"
Dimitri shot a tentative look at all of her fellow Muggles behind her, most of whom were pretending very much not to be listening.
"St. Mu-er, the hospital."
She noted grimly that he did not answer the second question.
"I need to go," she announced to the room "Family emergency. I need to- I have to go. Let the understudy fill in for me, I don't care."
Rushing towards her belongings where they sat at the side of the stage, she bundled her coat beneath one arm and saw to the rest of her things, moving with a great deal of speed but not much efficiency. She didn't care that she was already freezing, it would take too long to put on her coat properly - she didn't have time for buttons and belts. She certainly didn't have time to change out of her pointe shoes.
A hand gripped her arm and she shirked away from the touch blindly before she realised it was Adriano, staring at her with concern.
"What is it? What happened?"
"I don't- Draco. An accident at work. I need to go."
"Where?"
"To him. To the hospital."
"I'll come with-"
"No," she said quickly, shaking her head "No. You're needed here."
"My understudy can take it, too. They can call it amateur night."
He wasn't speaking half as quietly as he probably thought, and his comment earned a grumble or two from the dancers gathered somewhere behind them pretending not to listen.
"Ah - I'm sorry, I found the wrong word - my English, it's not-a so good, si?" He called half-heartedly behind him, doubling down on his Italian accent until he sounded like he was doing a terrible Super Mario impression.
Marilyn might have laughed under different circumstances - had she not been just holding it together by a bloody thread.
"No. Stay here."
"You can't go alone! For all you know you'll be sitting for ages in a waiting room, you can't do that alone."
"I'll have Dimitri. It's fine. It…it might not be safe. You need to stay here."
"It might not be safe?"
Marilyn shook her head, finally done stuffing all of her gear into her bag. Lifting it up, she shouldered it as Adriano continued.
"Well what about the children? I could go and sit with them, it's no trouble, what hotel are they in?"
"They're with the nanny, it's fine."
The nanny that was highly trained in combat magic - who also happened to be with them in York, not London. But that was an explanation she couldn't get into, either. In any case, they were likely surrounded by security now, too. The last thing she needed if this was some fresh new level of bullshit was Adriano being caught up in it.
"Marilyn."
"Don't," she snapped and then sighed, finally turning to face him "Don't be nice to me right now, because I'll lose it."
She meant it, too. A vice gripped her chest and if it wound any tighter something within her would snap, and she'd start either screaming or crying. Neither would be particularly helpful here.
He eyed her with concern for a moment before sighing "You look terrible, I hate your hair."
She sniffled "Thank you. You want something to do? Stop all of them from gossiping about this the second I'm gone."
"I will rule with a rod of iron," he promised solemnly.
When the high-pitched, panic-fuelled ringing finally subsided in her head, she'd make a mental note to thank him.
The first time Marilyn had stepped foot inside St. Mungo's, it was after she'd been tortured. And did it really count as stepping foot inside if she'd been floated in unconscious? The next couple of times were markedly happier - those times were when she'd given birth to her children. As she marched through the hospital corridors with Dimitri in tow, ignoring the undisguised looks of curiosity she drew, she noted dully that this was the first time she'd been in here without being the patient. Somehow, the time when she was here after her run in with the Notts was still better than this. The closest he'd come to being harmed was when Theodore Nott had gone firing spells at the stage that night, and even then he'd been under firm instructions not to hit Draco under any circumstances. This? For him to have been harmed without her even being nearby? This was unprecedented.
When they finally reached the hospital room, though, they were stopped by a very severe looking nurse who guarded the door. St Mungo's wasn't half as modern as the hospitals Marilyn was used to - there were no windows that allowed one to peer into the room, nor even a pane of glass fixed onto the door itself. It did nothing for how her imagination ran rampant.
Whatever strange maladies and mishaps and accidents - if it was an accident - could befall Muggles, experience had taught her long ago that the Wizarding world tended to turn up the weird factor on just about everything. Did she dare hope that this would prove an exception. She was practically nose-to-nose with the nurse before she realised the woman had no intention of stepping aside.
"I'm his wife, let me in."
"I know perfectly well who you are, Mrs Malfoy, but I can't allow that."
"Why the hell not?"
"Mr Malfoy is refusing to tell us how exactly he came about his injuries until his own private mediwizard arrives. We cannot treat him until we know, and until we know, we're unsure as to whether his injuries could prove dangerous for those exposed to him."
"Where is his doc- his mediwizard?"
What a fucking stupid name.
"We're struggling to get in contact with him at this time, but if you-"
"No. No, I'm not going to wait, and I'm not going to leave, this is absolutely fucking unacceptable - you can all be on the other side of the world with a wave of your wand, and my husband is here, injured and untreated why? Because of incompetence? He-"
She caught herself in time to stop herself from saying "he's given phones to your world, bloody well use them!" in her anger, but she stopped short.
"He has to have another mediwizard available. Surely. There's no chance he'd only have one listed, he wouldn't be that short-sighted, unless…" she paused as the woman hesitated "Don't you dare tell me you can't get ahold of either of them."
"Mr Malfoy has three trusted medics listed," Dimitri voiced somewhere behind her.
"Any of them, then," Marilyn ground out.
For the first time, the nurse looked somewhat bashful.
"Great - so all of them are about to lose their jobs. Let me in."
"I can't allow that."
"I'll sign any sodding papers you put in front of me to say I won't- I won't sue the hospital if this ends up being a bad move. Whatever you want. Just let me see him."
For a moment the nurse actually seemed to consider it, but before a verdict could be delivered, Dimitri's hand was falling on her shoulder and he was asking for a word with her - in a way which sounded very much like an order rather than a request.
"I cannot let you enter that room," he said without preamble once they'd rounded the corner of the corridor and were out of earshot of the nurse.
"What? Of course you can-"
"I cannot, Mrs Malfoy," he reiterated firmly "My job is to keep you safe, and going into that room may not be safe."
"You're joking."
"No," he paused and then sighed, continuing with great reluctance "I would urge you to consider your children, ma'am."
Her children…? Fuck. Her children. Oh god, was she the worst mother in the world for not thinking of that sooner? They'd need at least one of their parents to come back at the end of the day to keep them calm. She refused to think that he might've meant the sentiment in a way that was much more far-reaching and permanent - for if she took them to mean that, then she'd only end up barrelling down that fucking nurse and storming her way inside, magic or no magic.
"I…" closing her eyes, she took a deep breath in and steadied herself "I'm guessing you have the information on Draco's trusted doctors somewhere? Send men out to track them down - I don't care if they're at a wedding, a funeral, or if they're halfway dead themselves. Bring them here, have them do their fucking job. I don't care if it takes bribery, blackmail, or threats of…of whatever. Get them here. Have them fix him."
The order was relayed from Dimitri to his men in the form of a patronus - a great hulking Siberian tiger that stalked off through the halls of the hospital before disappearing entirely. Marilyn wasn't sure whether it was simply easier for him to carry out the order in such a manner, or if he didn't trust her not to go sprinting for the door of Draco's hospital room the second he took his eyes off of her.
As it was, he stood by and did a very good job of pretending that he wasn't watching her as she collected herself and tried to think of what she could do next. Draco was lucid enough to refuse treatment - that was the first thing that finally broke through the fog of panic that descended upon her from the moment Dimitri interrupted rehearsals. And if he was using that lucidity to refuse treatment, did that mean it really was an accident? If he didn't think so, surely he'd be raining holy hell upon the world right now, as well as demanding to see Dimitri so he could devise security plans going forward. He would not be lying in a hospital bed putting up a fuss about doctors.
For the first time since this had all happened, Marilyn felt like air actually entered her lungs when she inhaled. And then she returned to the nurse - spending the whole work lecturing herself on catching more flies with honey than with vinegar (a rant she'd often given Draco himself).
"I'm sorry about earlier," she said.
It took all of the diplomacy that she could muster - for while she understood that the woman was only doing her job, she still didn't think she was being particularly helpful. She was continuing on before the nurse could either accept or reject her apology.
"You said he won't tell you how he was injured - surely you can treat the injuries without knowing all of the details? A broken bone is a broken bone, right?"
Apparently her apology earned her some goodwill, for when the nurse sighed again now it held none of its former condescension.
"It's not that simple - particularly not with magical injuries. A spell that would heal one affliction may worsen the severity of another if we're mistaken as to the cause."
"And he won't tell you anything?"
"Nothing, ma'am."
Marilyn wasn't sure whether she wanted to storm into that room to make sure that he was okay, or throttle him herself. Maybe the former and then the latter, just to really cover her bases. Sighing heavily, she fell back and lowered herself into the chair opposite the door. It felt wrong - sitting, being still. Doing laps through the hospital corridors might've felt a bit more natural, if anything, but she doubted that would be well received. It was torture enough being stuck out in the corridor, she didn't want to be frogmarched from the building entirely.
There had to be something more she could do, though - something that didn't involve lounging back and waiting for his doctors to pull their thumbs out of their arses and actually earn the mountain of hush-money he probably funnelled towards them on the regular. Fumbling with her coat for a few moments, she finally managed to pull her phone out of the pocket and grimaced at it. Who could help? There was precious little Hermione could do - or even Harry, for that matter, unless he was currently having drinks with one of the doctors they were searching for. And, regardless of how civil-slash-almost-friendly he'd become with them over the years, the last thing Draco would want was them mincing about while he was incapacitated in a hospital bed.
Opening her contact list, she began to scroll through the names listed there, hoping that some sort of divine inspiration might strike. When it did, she wasn't particularly thankful for it. Locking the phone, she dropped it to her lap where she then proceeded to glare at it…before finally picking it back up and unlocking it again. The name mocked her - Narcissa Malfoy. She'd saved it with a little skull emoji alongside it, which she'd found incredibly funny at the time while Draco had rolled his eyes at her. Now it just felt all too apt.
Whatever difficulties lay between Draco and his mother, though, there was love there. There was never any denying that, even when tensions were at their highest. If there was anybody else that he'd want here, it would be his mother. If that wasn't enough to have her plucking up the nerve to press call, her next thought was. If it were my child, I'd want to know. The mental image of Evelyn or Caelum harmed or unwell, and nobody so much as seeing fit to inform her brought yet another wave of nauseating fear crashing down upon her. So she sniffed, she squared her shoulders, and she called.
It took a while - it had taken a great deal of fighting for Draco to even get his mother to agree to having a phone, citing that it would only be used in emergencies, but Marilyn had half expected for it not to even ring. But ring it did - once, thrice, and then on and on until she was certain there wasn't going to be an answer. And then there was a click, followed by silence, to the point where she had to look at the screen for a moment to check that the line hadn't gone dead.
Finally, Narcissa's voice came - more unsure than it had ever sounded "...Marilyn?"
It was slightly louder than necessary - reminding her of one of those so-called mediums who announced to rooms 'if there's a spirit here, please give me a sign'.
"Mrs Malfoy," she said, and cringed at how weak her voice sounded before she spoke again more surely this time "There's….There's been an accident. With Draco. We're at St. Mungo's."
Saying it made it feel even more real, which in turn made her feel even more sick. No response came, not other than a click - signalling that this time the line really had gone dead. Marilyn didn't let it fool her, though, and she knew Narcissa would be one of the next people to round the corner. Maybe she shouldn't have phoned.
A/N: This one was already an idea I've had for a wee while, but it ties in with people wanting to see Narcissa and Marilyn interacting without Draco there to play referee.