Cursed

After getting some sleep, Ianto seemed much calmer and less frantic about Jack’s presence.  After lunch and more potions, Susan and Bill stopped by to check in.  Jack asked if it would be possible for Ianto to visit his parents.

Susan left to consult with the Longbottoms’ Healer while Bill checked up on Ianto.

“You seem pretty drained,” he observed, making sure he spoke directly to Ianto rather than to Jack.  They had noticed that even though at the moment Jack could answer many of their questions better, it directly impacted Ianto’s mood when he was not spoken to.  They finally figured out that he had lost far too much agency already, and even practical considerations for his current care could have an adverse impact.  So they had figured out that the best way to address this was to ask Ianto questions, allow him to answer, and then let Jack elaborate, as needed.  So far, it was working very well.

“The potion’s doing its job,” Ianto replied, though it seemed to take a bit of effort, to speak.

“Meaning?” Bill glanced at Jack, who was watching Ianto closely.

“Well, you’re deliberately wringing every drop of misery I’ve ever suffered out of me, causing me to experience every bit of it, all over again.  And then you’re wondering why I’m wrung out.”  Ianto frowned.  “I should think it’s obvious.”

“Mate, I know it’s been hard,” Bill sighed and sat at the end of the bed as Jack put his arm around Ianto.  “But that cloud the other day meant that we had to help you offload some of this stuff.  It was…”

“I know,” Ianto muttered.  “I know it’s been necessary.  But…  I don’t know how much more I can take,” he confessed.

“Well, the good news is, you’re remarkably clear, now,” Bill said, casting another spell and reading the runes.  “The dragon’s blood potion is almost done.  It should be ready by evening.  Once you’ve integrated that, I’d say another few days of rest, and your mood should stabilize, as well as your physical health.  Then we can start leaning on Susan to get you released.”

“That is good news,” Jack smiled at Ianto, who was too tired to summon any enthusiasm, though he did nod and give Jack a small smile, in return.

“How about we go somewhere,” Jack proposed, “to let you have a rest.”

“What do you mean?” Ianto frowned.

“You’re going to need to take some time, to regain your strength,” Bill explained.  “And acclimatize yourself to having your magic, again.  I’d recommend you get a new wand, right away.”

“Is Ollivander’s still open?”

“It’s Ollivander & Stone, now.  His apprentice took over, not long after…” he hesitated.  “Not long after you disappeared,” he finished.  “They’re saying she’s quite gifted.  Even more so than the old man.”

“That’s a hell of a claim,” Ianto exclaimed, wide-eyed.  Bill noted that he seemed to be more lucid during this conversation than he had been, yet.

“Ianto,” Jack said, and his lover turned to him.  “I have a cottage.  Other side of Swansea.”

“The place on Bracelet Bay?” Ianto asked, and Jack blinked.

“How do you know about…”

“You left, Jack,” Ianto reminded him wearily.  “I saw you chase after the TARDIS and leave.  So like a good little butler, I made sure your things were well looked after, in case you decided to return.”

“I meant to be back in a few hours,” Jack muttered morosely.

“Traveling with a being with notoriously bad aim?” Ianto asked ironically.

“There is that,” Jack blew out a breath.  “You’re right.  I should have told you all that I was waiting.  That I needed to go but planned to come right back.”  He looked at Ianto, who was staring at his hands, which were tangling together in his lap.  “I’m sorry.”

“I told you when you got back that I understood,” Ianto replied, just as quietly.

“I know, but I can’t imagine that makes it any easier.”

“No.”

“What else did you find out about?” Jack asked, afraid of the answer.

“You have it backwards.”

“What?”

“Helen needed supplies, so she reached out.”

“How did you access that email account?” Jack asked, frowning, but then almost laughed at the insulted look on Ianto’s face.  “Stupid question.”  He sighed.  “So you know.”

“What I can’t figure out is why it’s such a secret.”

“It’s too much of a burden,” Jack began.

“Why?” Ianto interrupted.  “Because it’s sad and tragic that these people are broken?  You once told me that we’re all broken.”

“Not like this,” Jack admonished. 

“Personally, I find comfort and hope in the fact that you are making sure they are taken care of,” Ianto replied.

“I didn’t want you all to know…”

But Ianto interrupted, shaking his head.  “We’re not children, Jack.  And in many cases, what we don’t know can do an awful lot of harm.” 

“I just didn’t want any of you to see how bad it could be.”

“I have two words for you, Jack,” Ianto had a strange, serious look in his eye.  “Janus Thickey.”

Bill winced.  He wasn’t sure what Jack had been trying to protect Ianto from, but he was fairly certain it had been a forlorn hope.

Jack frowned.  He’d heard that name, before.  Someone had mentioned it in the past few days, hadn’t they?  But he didn’t know what it meant, and he wanted to understand what Ianto was saying.  “So you found out about Flat Holm, and kept digging?”

“I just wanted to be sure no harm would come of your absence,” Ianto shrugged.

Jack realized that for Ianto, it really was as simple as that.

Bill decided to bring them back on topic.  “I think Minister Shacklebolt and Professor McGonagall are going to invite you to recover in Hogwarts.  Rest up and get a refresher at the school, since it’s been so long since you’ve been able to use your magic.”

Jack nodded.  “That doesn’t sound like a bad idea,” he said, watching Ianto closely for a reaction.

At this point, Ianto just wanted out of hospital.  A few weeks of quiet at Hogwarts sounded lovely, and having some help as he acclimated to having his magic again would be welcome.  He gave Jack a small smile.  “Sorry, Jack.  Bracelet Bay may have to wait.”

“It’ll still be there,” Jack returned his smile warmly.

In the next moment, Susan returned.  Smiling, she told them that now would be a good time to visit the Longbottoms, as they had just finished their lunch.  Jack helped Ianto put on a set of robes, and Ianto leaned heavily on Jack’s arm as they made their way through the labyrinthine corridors. 

As they approached a separate wing, Jack saw the sign for the ward they were about to enter, and understanding dawned.  It read:

Janus Thickey Long-Term Residential Ward
for Permanent Spell Damage

Jack felt a shiver of dread at the prospect of entering.  He did not want to see what was behind those doors if they had inured Ianto to the suffering of those at Flat Holm.

But Ianto was not hesitating.  He only slowed as Susan pulled out her wand and muttered, “Alohomora,” to open the door.

They entered the ward, which only had a few residents in the beds that lined the walls to either side of the long center aisle.  A flowered curtain was drawn across the far end of the ward, offering a bit of privacy to the two beds there.  Still, Jack could see that they were set up close together, only a small night table separating them.

As they made their way down the ward, the curtain was drawn back unexpectedly.  Ianto flinched and stopped walking, then swayed against Jack before visibly steeling himself.  He straightened and dropped Jack’s arm, clearly wishing to face his grandmother on his own two feet.

Jack was having none of it.  He placed a hand at the small of Ianto’s back, ready to support him, should he need it.  He watched his lover closely, knowing it would be better for him if Jack refrained from engaging.

“Hello, Ianto,” Augusta Longbottom said, her voice pitched low, and though hers was the kind of voice that could never aspire to be soft, it held a gentleness that took Jack by surprise. 

Ianto blinked, which Jack registered as moderate shock.  No one had expected the elderly witch to call him anything other than Neville.  That she was making an attempt was impressive.

“Hello, Gran,” Ianto said, finally looking her in the eye.

She eyed him closely, but it was not the look that Jack had become accustomed to, despite how it annoyed him.  She was not looking for a trace of Neville in Ianto’s face; rather, she was simply studying Ianto, like she was trying to relearn his features.

Ianto gave a little half-smile – the one that always came out when he was feeling nervous, or self-conscious.  Jack quickly realized that it must have been an expression that Neville had used as well, because in the next moment, Augusta Longbottom stepped forward and wrapped Ianto in her arms.

“Oh, my dear boy!” she cried.

It was more instinct than intention that brought Ianto’s arms up to return his grandmother’s embrace.  But once he felt her strong, steady presence, he let out a sob he hadn’t realized was there, all relief and remembrance, and his mind was flooded with all of the good memories that had been buried beneath the curses. 

The bad memories had been at the fore due to the cloud experience.  Yes, he was releasing a lot of ugliness and negativity, but he was re-experiencing it, first.  All of his good memories (and there were more good than bad, despite a sorrowful childhood plagued by bullying relatives) had been locked away, hidden from view.  But now, as his grandmother held onto him, he remembered.

Jack tried to catch them when Ianto’s knees buckled, but the stalwart witch guided her grandson to the ground, gracefully kneeling and then sitting with him without releasing her embrace.  She made comforting noises and crooned as she rocked him back and forth, her face showing her relief and regret.

“My dearest boy, I thought I’d lost you!  Please forgive an old woman’s foolishness.  I was afraid it wasn’t actually you, and shaking that hope felt like I’d lost you, all over again.  But it’s really you!”

Ianto clung to his grandmother, burying his face in her neck as he had once done as a boy, at least until his great-uncle, her brother-in-law, had deemed him too old for such mollycoddling.  She kissed the top of his head and tried to get used to the fact that there was nothing about the child that was not different, from the texture of his hair to the scent of his skin to the accent that did strange things to his vowels.  She pulled him even closer, determined to memorize every little thing.

“I became convinced you were happy to be rid of me,” Ianto choked, still releasing the darkness, despite the fact that he would have felt much safer confessing these things to Jack in the privacy of the bed they’d been sharing.

Augusta looked horrified.  Bill managed to catch her eye and murmured to her that the curses had put these ideas in her grandchild’s head, but he was now releasing that darkness.

“Ianto, I want you to know, that is not true,” she declared.

“But it was my fault,” he sobbed, and Jack reached out to place a hand on the back of Ianto’s neck.  “You were right.  I was never much better than a squib.  My father wouldn’t have let himself be captured…”

Augusta frowned, as did the others.  “Ianto, child, your father was captured.  And from what I understand, you were ambushed in your flat.”

Ianto nodded.  “He hit me from behind, and I managed to spot and stun him.  But she hit me again and apparated the three of us back to their place.  But something went wrong, and she splinched.  That made her… angrier.”  He shuddered.

She shook her head sadly, but her voice was strong when she said, “See?  Ambushed.  And still you acquitted yourself well.”

“You know… what they did?”

“Hermione Weasley allowed me to read her report,” she sighed.  It had been comprehensive and horrifying.  A lengthy discussion with Susan had also been enlightening.  It was a miracle that he had not joined his parents on this ward.  The curse-breaking had been harrowing, and the speculation was that the only reason he had survived it with his wits intact was because of the vortex now churning within him.

***