Thank you very much for selecting to read this! I've been thinking about the idea for a long time. I suppose it doesn't really follow the original Harry Potter series, but I hope it comes pretty close. I apologize if this chapter is a bit vague and rushed - I plan to detail and explain everything in the later parts. Please enjoy this and leave any critiques if you have them! :)

Draco kicked the door of Malfoy Manor open after he struggled to twist the handle by using the only free part of his arm—his elbow. Urgently, he swept inside. "Mother!" he shouted in panic. "Mother! Please!" Soft footsteps pattered quickly down the grand staircase, bringing the beautiful figure of Narcissa Malfoy into his view. Draco shoved the front door closed and ran as fast as he could towards her. Concern clouded her eyes as she looked upon her young man of a son; he was holding something oddly shaped and concealed by a cloak in his arms. Draco was crying. He wasn't sobbing like after waking from a nightmare, but there were definitely remnants of tears on his cheeks as he looked up at her. "Help me, Mummy…" he whimpered. Narcissa felt an icy blast hit her. He hadn't called her 'mummy' since he was five years old. Hesitantly (and still stuck in this realization), Narcissa nodded. She followed her son over to the sitting room sofas.

Draco placed his bundle gingerly down onto one of the plush chairs, taking extra care of the top by slipping a pillow under it. Narcissa knew better than to speak before being spoken to; yet her curiosity was piqued. "Draco…?" she began. But she gasped when he pulled back the top of the cloak.

A young woman's pale face shone, cuts and dirt marring her cheeks.

Draco glanced nervously at his mother. His heart was beating rapidly, his breathing ragged. "I found her. She was on the streets of Diagon Alley. Sick. So sick. She called for someone to save her in complete agony—she said she felt like she was dying. Help me, Mother. Oh, please help me. I think I know what caused this. I can't…I can't…leave her…not after what I've—" but Draco couldn't finish as another great sob caught in his throat. Narcissa nodded slowly. She understood that her son was having trouble recently accepting the things he'd done, the mistakes he'd made. He needed to let go. But he always felt the necessity to redeem himself—this was clearly what he thought to be his perfect opportunity. "We'll take her up to a guest room," Narcissa murmured, calculating and thinking. "Once she's settled I'll call for a Mediwizard. After that…well, we'll see what they say. But she will stay here until cleared."

"W-What will Father say?"

"…He's upstairs in his study. For the time being, I feel he doesn't need to know specifics."

"But Mother, won't he be upset—"

"I'm past worry about what he'll say or think. I'm making this decision on my own. I can do that. I don't need…I don't require constant supervision as if I were a fragile porcelain doll."

Draco was a little shocked at his mother's newfound confidence. She was never one to question the head-of-house, nor do anything that would normally cause his father's eyebrows to raise. She no longer seemed to care. Draco's thoughts were interrupted when he heard the girl on the sofa let out a soft yet strangled moan. "Mummy…!" he whispered desperately in fear. Narcissa called for a house-elf while Draco carried the fragile being upstairs to one of the comfortable guest rooms.

The wait seemed to take hours. Draco paced up and down the hallway, glancing at the closed door repeatedly. Narcissa appeared to be patiently waiting like a statue. But she too was eager to hear the prognosis. After a few minutes, the short Mediwizard bobbled out of the room, his frizzy white haired-head hung low. He sighed. "She's going to be alright for now," he concluded. Draco felt his heart hurting with guilt. "But it won't last. I'm afraid…she's been cursed with an incurable illness. By Dark magic."

"Dark magic? But all of that has been banished, defeated—whatever! Gone!"

"I believe that this was placed upon her before the War ended. I believe she's been suffering for a very long time."

"W-Was it an Unforgivable Curse?" Draco stammered.

"There's no way of telling. All I can detect is a debilitating disease, not contracted, but rather forced upon her by magic. I don't know if it was direct or indirect. There's nothing…er…I can't do anything about it."

"What do you mean you can't? There has to be something!" Draco was shouting now, not bothering to recognize that tears were flowing endlessly down his cheeks—Malfoys never showed emotional weakness.

"I'm sorry, young Mr. Malfoy. If a person is cursed, injured, or harmed by Dark magic, there isn't a cure. Whether they lost a limb or their life, no one can regenerate or cure it. I'm sorry."

"What are we expected to do with such a lost cause, then?"

"Well, the best thing to do is tend to her—keep her alive. The more comfort and care she receives, the less this sickness will affect her. Another important piece of advice: talk to her. Let her know that she's being loved and that she's safe. Let her tell you if something hurts or when the sickness is making her uncomfortable. If you and your family follow these procedures, we may be able to keep the illness at bay for a least a while longer."

"W-What if she gets worse?"

"Strenuous activity will weaken her, thus making her more vulnerable to falling farther into the stages of this curse or disease or whatever you may call it. Other things too will put stress on her body—sudden movement, excitement/intense emotion, pregnancy, further illness, etc. Be sure to take good care of her. You can always call for me if the need arises."

"Sir?"

"Yes, young Mr. Malfoy?"

"…What is her name?"

The Mediwizard stared at Draco for a moment as if debating whether or not he should vocalize this assumption. "I knew her family. But they're all long gone now—they fled the country after the War. Either they assumed she was dead—you did find her in an old alleyway, yes?—or they agreed to leave everything behind, including her. I don't know. But the Greengrass family has always held high respect in the Pureblood race. This is the youngest of them. Her name is Astoria."