A/N: This one has a bit more angst in it than flufftober would typically suggest, but given Draco's parents have been well covered in the original fic, and Marilyn's were only referenced in LBL/just starting to be shown in HTWA, this was the only way I could fill the prompt. I've had a request or two asking to see more about Marilyn's parents, anyway, so it fits. That being said, if you've got experience with a narcissistic parent/narcissistic abuse in general and you're currently not in a headspace where you want to be reminded of it, you may want to give this chapter a miss. A nice Disney style reunion was never going to be the case here - shitty people exist, some of those shitty people are parents.

This one is set during the first trimester of Marilyn's first pregnancy.

Flufftober 2022 Day 2 - "You've told your parents?"

Marilyn walked into the cosy pub with Draco half a step behind her, having held the door open for her to slip in before her, ever the perfect gentleman. Well, until he opened his mouth. But that was half the fun of it, anyway. She'd heard all of the warnings about the first trimester and how it often left women feeling completely sapped of energy, but she hadn't taken them very seriously - she was a dancer, her stamina was brilliant, thank you very much…until it had bowled her over. It was for that reason that their date night tonight was low key, simple, and in York - no Apparation required. They'd sit down, they'd eat, Draco would complain about the food every step of the way, and they'd head home to fall asleep curled up together on the sofa in front of a movie. Bliss.

"Oh great," Draco muttered sourly.

"What?" she questioned, tilting her head.

"I think you're about to be asked for an autograph - there's a whole table of women over there gawking at you."

"Jealous, are we?"

"They're not my type," he replied.

"What is?" she asked distractedly, glancing about her for the table he'd been referring to.

"Blonde pregnant dancers who are able to annoy beyond belief with the shortest of sentences."

"You charmer, you," she grinned.

"Who said I was talking about you?"

His fingers threaded with hers as he teased her, and she laughed at his teasing right until she finally spotted who he'd been talking about to begin with, and the laugh died on her lips. She must have stiffened - or maybe her grip on his hand tightened - because he turned to look at her quickly and frowned when he saw her face.

"What's wrong? Do you feel unwell? Do you have to sit down?"

For all of his aloofness, even Draco Malfoy wasn't above the worry that having a pregnant partner seemed to naturally induce.

"No," she breathed, then coughed and said it again, her voice stronger this time "No. I'm fine. But they won't be wanting autographs."

"Why? Do you know them?"

"Used to," she said brightly, forcing an unbothered smile onto her face "One of them's my mother."

She looked older than she had when they'd last seen one another - but that was to be expected. At this point she'd more or less been out of her life longer than she'd been in it. Deep lines crowded her face, as well as a fair bit of sun damage, and she had a short pixie cut that only exaggerated the severity. And she stared at Marilyn in disbelief - disbelief that quickly turned to outrage, like she was aghast that she'd continued to exist.

"Your mothe-" he was exclaiming his disbelief when Marilyn tightened her grip on his hand.

"Don't. It doesn't matter," she interrupted firmly.

"Shall we leave?" he asked.

"Now that she's already seen us? Absolutely not. I'm not running."

"You could never be accused of that," he said.

Marilyn couldn't decide if it was meant as a compliment or not. She took it as one anyway. It was difficult - not looking over to the table full of older women, all of whom were staring at her and whispering - but she managed it. It was more difficult still not to let her hand slip up towards her abdomen. She was barely showing, the only indication being a slight roundness, hidden easily by any clothing, but especially the jumper she wore tonight. Still, back when she was a teenager her mother liked to accuse her of being pregnant if she had a headache or a mild cold, and so if she saw her here tonight, standing beside her husband, cradling her middle, the rumours would spread. Ordinarily she mightn't care, but thus far the only people who knew were herself, Draco, and their appointed mediwitch. More would know in time, but she'd be damned if that started with her mother. To use the title very, very loosely.

"Table for two?" a server paused to smile at them.

"A booth," Draco replied.

There was a pause when Marilyn would usually add a please or thank you for him, and the absence of her doing so - too distracted to even think to do it, really - earned her a worried look from her husband.

The booth they were led to was across the room from the table - from her - but not out of sight of it. Marilyn slid into one side, but rather than sliding into the one opposite, Draco joined her on the same side, obscuring her from view and acting as a barrier. It was not the first time he'd elected to be a human shield for her. It wasn't even the most perilous. That only stoked the annoyance building within her - at herself, not at him. For how on edge she suddenly felt.

"You look beautiful tonight, you know."

"Thanks."

A moment later she belatedly realised that she'd just failed another tentative 'wellness check'. Usually she'd jokingly agree - or tease him. Probably both.

"Marilyn, darling-"

"Draco, love."

"Har-har. We can leave, you know."

"Technically, yeah."

"We should leave, then, should we not? Wouldn't it be preferable to sitting here like hostages?"

"It's a principle thing."

"All right. Fine. If that's what you want. But…when she comes over, do you want me to-"

"She won't."

"Of course she will, she's your mother."

"She isn't, Draco, and she won't."

"Mine still talked to me even when everything between us all was at its worst - she hugged me when we went for that lunch, remember?"

"That's because your mother is actually your mother. It's different."

"I'm willing to take any bet you have on the matter."

"Have fun losing that bet, then. What are you going to get to eat?"

"If we eat, I'll have to go to the bar to order the food, and leave you here alone."

"I promise I'll behave if left unsupervised," she muttered flatly.

"Marilyn."

Her eyes fluttered shut and she sighed "I'm sorry."

She was on edge. More on edge than she'd like to be, and more than she'd ever, ever admit - but it was like an instinct. A hangover-like reflex that still haunted her from her tween years, and it was fraying her nerves the more Draco questioned her on it. But he didn't deserve her annoyance.

"What can I do?"

"Nothing. There's nothing to be done - we just need to get through this, pretend they're not all over there staring at us, and celebrate getting through it afterwards."

"I could hex her. Or a nice curse. I know plenty, you know, shady history and all that. Don't get much chance to use them nowadays. Might be fun. Nostalgic, even. Being on my best behaviour all the time does get very tiring."

Marilyn breathed a laugh, which must have been his plan all along because he smirked in return as she replied "And end up in Azkaban?"

"It's not as bad as it was these days. I'd get less time with good behaviour, and use it as an opportunity to wipe out the Notts. I'm playing the long game here, darling, do catch up."

"Unless you think you'd get less than…oh, six to seven months, I'd say it's a game for another time."

"Hm. We could always scrap Azkaban altogether and go on the run."

"That sounds like a solution that is not only very reasonable, but also incredibly wise."

"Good, it's settled then."

They did finally decide on what it was they wanted to eat - Draco opting for a traditional, slightly more refined choice of a Sunday roast, while Marilyn simply wanted a bowl of cheesy chips bigger than her head. Her husband was almost as affronted by that as he had been by the concept of chips and gravy all those years ago when they'd first met, but it was a testament to his ability to adapt that he accepted the request with little reaction other than a wrinkled nose.

When he stood up to go to the bar, Marilyn felt much more exposed than she'd ever own up to, but she kept her back straight and her shoulders squared, choosing the time to leaf through the dessert menu and ponder if cheesecake after cheesy chips would really make her husband contemplate divorce. Movement in her peripheral vision caught her eye - from the table she was pretending to pay no mind to at all. At first she pursed her lips, but when she glanced up the woman who just happened to be passing by her table (taking the longest possible route to the ladies' room) was not her mother - her hair was not brown, but a sandy blonde, cut in such a way that made her look like the Honey Monster from the old Sugar Puffs adverts.

She blinked in surprise when Marilyn acknowledged her presence, her features becoming oddly pinched like she was amazed she had the audacity to…stare back? It didn't bother Marilyn. She'd been stared down by Lucius sodding Malfoy - everything was uphill after that. It was with that in mind that she slowly arched one eyebrow. The result probably had her looking like The Rock, but it got the daft cow to stop staring at her as she huffed and continued on her way to the toilets. The reasonable part of Marilyn didn't want to fault the woman. In all likelihood, if Marilyn herself had heard whatever made up stories this wifey undoubtedly had, she'd hate herself too. That being said, she didn't much have the energy to be reasonable right now.

Glancing back to the table to see if the rest of them watched the ridiculous little exchange, Marilyn blinked when she found they weren't watching her at all. No, instead they all stared at her husband, his journey to the bar having brought him within earshot of their table. And Draco was staring back - his own eyebrows arched high in a way that made it evident he'd just spoken. Whatever it was he'd said, they didn't seem to have a whole lot to say back.

When it was clear Draco had come to the same conclusion, he offered them a thoroughly condescending tight-lipped smile, picked their drinks up from the bar, and returned to the booth.

"The food should be about twenty minutes or so," he said, sipping at his wine as he slid her mocktail in front of her.

"What was that all about?" she asked.

"What?"

"Draco."

He looked very pleased with himself, which only worried her more, but then he shrugged and sighed before he finally began to explain.

"They were debating whether or not I was handsome - which shows they're so dim-witted that it's begun to affect their vision."

"I'm not sure that's how sight works."

"Of course it is, look at Potter."

"And you weighed in to tell them that you are, in fact, terribly good looking?"

"Oh, no, that speaks for itself. After that they began to debate the cost of your wedding rings. Both of them, but primarily the Malfoy one."

"Of course. The big diamond one. Easy to spot across the room."

"Mm. I saved them from their deliberations, and said it's been over a century since it was properly appraised, but it was obscenely valuable then, and it's even more so with each passing year."

"You didn't."

"I did. And when it's time for a refill I'll tell them about our budget for our next home."

"Draco."

"They were talking about us like I couldn't hear them! It was poor manners."

"Coming from a man who regularly 'forgets' to say please and thank you."

"Oh, that's just because it's funny."

"You're not, though."

"Then why are you laughing?"

"I remembered something very funny."

"Oh, what was that then?"

"How much I enjoy it when you're an arse to people I hate."

Draco grinned "Supply me with a list, we'll work our way through it."

The Honey Monster walked past their table again, but Draco's kiss distracted Marilyn…although they parted quickly at the loud, obnoxious scraping of a chair across the room. Her mother was rising to her feet, her lips set in a thin line and her nose wrinkled in disgust. Draco watched the display openly, as did Marilyn, although his arm stretched back to lie across the back of the booth behind her, and she saw how he tensed as though anticipating a fight.

It didn't look like she was going to approach, though - she refused to look at them at all, seizing her coat from the back of her chair while her friends all entreated her with words that all seemed to display the same sentiment. Don't let them ruin your night, just ignore them, don't be daft. As if she was the one sitting in a room with somebody who'd neglected her when she should have cared for her.

Still, the shrill response reached their ears no problem.

"I'm not going to sit here while...while she sits there with that little upjumped prick smirking at us! The sheer disrespect, I've never known anything like it in my life!"

Yeah. She hadn't changed a bit. Marilyn sipped at her drink and Draco continued to watch as she shrugged her coat on and stormed out, slamming the door behind her. Silence lingered around the pub for a good few moments after, until uneasy murmurs began to spring back up, which eventually grew into chatting once again.

"She didn't come up to you," Draco said.

"Nope. Looks like I win the bet."

"You're her daughter."

"Debatable."

"She hasn't seen you in…in a lifetime, almost."

"Thank Christ."

"And she didn't even come up? She didn't…she didn't say hello, she didn't ask how you've been, she didn't even try to meet your husband beyond whispering about me like a teenager."

"Again, thank Christ."

"Marilyn."

"Draco," she sighed, her head lolling back as she searched for her patience "What about anything in all the time you've known me, and everything I've ever said about her, made you think that things would be any more pleasant than they were? I'd say they actually went pretty well - there was no scene, which I'd have been obligated to make out of principle if she'd tried anything, and now we don't have to eat our meal being stared at like animals in a zoo. It's brilliant, it's fine, it's all good."

"I just can't understand why. If my mother doesn't see me in a month, you'd think I'd have returned from war when we finally crossed paths again. In the time since yours last saw you, you've had a career, lost a career, gotten married, gained that career back and then some, and- well, and now this latest development," he nodded towards her abdomen as he took another sip of his wine to illustrate what he was getting at "It makes no sense."

"It makes perfect sense in her mind. I know how she treated me when I was a kid, she knows how she treated me when I was a kid. She knows I know, and I know she knows. Worst of all for her now, she'll worry that you know, and you just made it very clear that you're not particularly interested in peace-keeping."

The smirk on his face confirmed her point, but Marilyn continued.

"With others - with her little gang over there - she can pretend otherwise. She can cry and play the doting mother who made one or two common mistakes along the way whose ungrateful daughter promptly abandoned her when a better life called. Even if one or two of them are smart enough to doubt, they won't call her out on it, so she's safe. The moment I enter a room is when she stops being safe, because while I don't want drama, if she tried to keep up that act with me, I'd have been obligated to start recounting the truth for all to hear. She panicked, and she ran. Later, when they ask, she'll cry about how it was too much for her to bear and she had to get out of there. She'll be dining on this story for weeks."

Draco watched her rattle all of this off boredly with disbelief clear on his features.

"That's truly how her mind works?"

"Mm. That didn't happen, and if it did it wasn't that bad, and if it was, it wasn't a big deal, and if it is, that's not my fault, and if it was, I didn't mean it, and if I did…you deserved it. The only way to win and save yourself from being subjected to the mental gymnastics is not to play. The second I got the fuck out of there was the second I was no longer obligated to play, so it's all good now."

"Merlin's balls."

"If it's any consolation, she's aged terribly," Marilyn said lightly "People like that tend to. Being miserable is their only source of joy, it takes a bit of a toll."

Draco shook his head, lip still curled in annoyance. It was borderline exasperating seeing his disbelief - after all she'd told him of how things were, his astonishment at seeing it could easily be conveyed as a previous failure to believe what he'd been told. But seeing was believing, and Marilyn had seen him with Narcissa. If that was all he'd ever known, seeing this was bound to be jarring.

"Are you alright?" she asked.

"You're asking me that?"

"I'm fine," she shrugged "Relieved, but fine."

"Why aren't you angry?"

"It's like dealing with a toddler in a human's body, Draco. That's the level of self-reflection there. If I get angry and bitter, she wins, too. I used to be, years ago, but it's pointless now."

He shook his head again, and looked very much like he was contemplating going through with their joke-plan that would result in them being on the run. Was his anger due to this alone, or was it amplified by the fact that they'd soon be parents themselves?

"We'll do better," she said quietly.

"It'd be bloody difficult to do worse," he muttered.

And then his hand found hers atop the table. Marilyn smiled softly, leaning her head down onto his shoulder - but only after she pressed a kiss to his cheek, noting how strongly clenched his jaw was as she did.

"You know what's nice, though? Other than not having to deal with her anymore?"

"What?" he sounded almost unwilling to hear it - like he wanted to be angry.

She didn't much blame him for that, either.

"I think that was the first time I didn't have to stand up for myself where she was involved. The first time somebody else stepped in."

The tension slipped from the shoulder she rested her head on, but only slightly. Then he exhaled sharply through his nose, and lifted her hand to his lips.

"I've jumped in front of worse for you."