Points for Recovery
Ursa sat stiffly in the Malfoy manor’s drawing room, her back pressed against the velvet upholstery of the sofa. The ornate space seemed more cavernous than usual, its grandeur a stark contrast to the heaviness in her chest. Her body still ached, and every movement felt like a reminder of her recent descent into chaos.
Draco was perched on the armrest beside her, uncharacteristically quiet. He kept glancing at her, his face a mixture of guilt and worry, though he didn’t voice either. Across the room, Narcissa stood near the fireplace, her hands clasped tightly together. The firelight flickered across her pale features, highlighting the tension that had settled there since the incident.
Ursa wasn’t used to the quiet. Not from her twin. Not from her mother. And certainly not from herself.
“Do you feel... different?” Draco finally broke the silence, his voice cautious.
Ursa blinked at him, unsure how to answer. She did feel different—but not in a way she could explain. The laughter, the mania, the curse—it had been like a firestorm inside her, consuming every shred of control she’d painstakingly maintained. Now, she felt raw, as if she were piecing herself back together with trembling hands.
“Of course she feels different,” Narcissa said softly, her gaze fixed on the flames. “The curse has manifested. Things will never be the same for her.”
Ursa flinched at her mother’s words, though there was no malice in them. Only resignation.
“You don’t have to make it sound so dire,” Draco snapped, his protective instincts flaring. “She’s still Ursa. She’s still my twin.”
Narcissa turned to him, her expression softening. “I know, darling. I’m not saying she isn’t.” Her eyes flicked to Ursa, and something unspoken passed between them—a mixture of fear, hope, and determination.
“I’m fine,” Ursa said finally, though her voice sounded brittle even to her own ears.
Draco frowned, clearly unconvinced. “You’re not fine, Ursa. You screamed yourself into a week-long sleep. I thought you were going to die!” His voice cracked, and he looked away, his jaw tight.
Ursa stared at him, the weight of his words pressing down on her. She had been so focused on surviving the madness that she hadn’t considered how it might have affected the people around her.
“I’m sorry,” she said quietly, her fingers curling into fists.
Draco shook his head. “It’s not your fault. It’s that stupid curse.”
Narcissa crossed the room, kneeling in front of Ursa. She reached out, brushing a strand of hair from her daughter’s face. “You are strong, my love,” she said, her voice steady. “Stronger than I ever was.”
Ursa’s chest tightened at the unexpected praise. “Mother…”
Narcissa’s hand lingered for a moment before she stood, her composure returning. “You don’t have to go through this alone. Your father and I will do everything in our power to help you. And Draco will be by your side every step of the way.”
Draco nodded vehemently, his earlier frustration replaced by determination. “Absolutely. I’ve got your back, Ursa.”
Ursa swallowed hard, the knot in her throat making it difficult to speak. She wasn’t used to this level of vulnerability, but she couldn’t deny how much she needed their support.
---
The next day, the heaviness of the manor was interrupted by an unexpected arrival.
Severus Snape swept into the drawing room with his usual air of quiet authority, his black robes billowing behind him. Ursa sat up straighter as he approached, her curiosity piqued.
“Severus,” Narcissa greeted him, her tone both relieved and wary. “Thank you for coming.”
Snape inclined his head, his sharp gaze flicking to Ursa. “I hear you’ve had quite the ordeal,” he said, his voice smooth and unreadable.
Ursa met his gaze, unsure what to say. She had always known Snape as her godfather, a constant yet enigmatic presence in her life. Now, his piercing eyes seemed to see straight through her.
“You’re here to help?” she asked, her voice steadier than she felt.
“I am,” Snape replied, his tone leaving no room for doubt. He turned to Lucius, who had joined them. “The Black Madness is not something one simply overcomes. But Ursa has shown remarkable resilience. That resilience can be honed.”
Lucius nodded, his expression guarded. “She’s strong. But what do you propose, Severus?”
Snape’s gaze returned to Ursa. “Mental discipline. The madness preys on the mind, exploiting its weaknesses. If Ursa is to maintain control, she must learn to fortify herself. Occlumency is the key.”
“Occlumency?” Ursa repeated, her brows furrowing.
“It is the art of shielding one’s mind from external influence,” Snape explained. “A difficult skill, but one that would serve you well in managing the curse.”
Ursa straightened, her interest piqued. “You think I can learn it?”
Snape’s lips curled into the faintest of smirks. “I think you must.”
---
The first lesson took place in the privacy of the study, with Snape standing opposite Ursa. Draco watched from a nearby chair, his curiosity tempered by concern.
“Clear your mind,” Snape instructed, his voice low and commanding. “Focus on nothing but the stillness within you.”
Ursa closed her eyes, trying to follow his instructions. Her mind, however, was anything but still. The memories of the curse’s manifestation—of the laughter, the pain, the uncontrollable chaos—swirled like a storm, refusing to be silenced.
“I can’t,” she muttered, her frustration bubbling to the surface.
“You can,” Snape countered sharply. “You are simply unwilling to let go of your emotions. They will destroy you if you let them. Again.”
Ursa clenched her fists, gritting her teeth as she tried once more. This time, she focused on her breathing, willing the storm inside her to subside. It was agonizingly difficult, but she managed to hold onto a flicker of calm for a fleeting moment before it slipped away.
Snape nodded, his expression inscrutable. “Better. But you must push further.”
Draco leaned forward, his face a mixture of admiration and unease. “Isn’t this a bit intense? She just got out of bed!”
“This is necessary,” Snape said curtly, not sparing Draco a glance. “If Ursa is to master herself, she cannot afford to be coddled.”
Ursa opened her eyes, meeting Snape’s gaze. “I want to keep going,” she said firmly.
Snape’s smirk returned, faint but approving. “Good. Then let us continue.”
---
The lessons continued over the following days, each one more grueling than the last. But Ursa pushed through, her determination unwavering. She could feel herself growing stronger, her mind sharpening as she learned to wield control over her thoughts.
Draco was her constant companion, offering words of encouragement and the occasional sarcastic quip to lighten the mood. Narcissa hovered in the background, her worry tempered by pride as she watched her daughter’s progress.
And through it all, Lucius remained a steady presence, his quiet support a source of strength Ursa hadn’t known she needed.
As the days turned into weeks, Ursa began to feel a semblance of normalcy returning. The Black Madness was still a part of her, an ever-present shadow, but it no longer consumed her. With her family’s support and Snape’s guidance, she was learning to control it—to live with it.
For the first time in what felt like forever, she allowed herself to hope.