Cursed

Harry disapparated from St. Mungo’s with Jack, and Ianto with Ginny.  At Ianto’s request, they went to a small park nearby so he could feel the sun on his face for the first time in more than a month.  He had been either too ill or too exhausted to notice, but when asked about his plans for the day (other than getting a wand and eventually travelling to Cardiff), he had asked if they could take a short walk before heading to Diagon Alley.

After his lengthy confinement, it was an understandable request, but it had confirmed to Jack that Ianto was still not fully recovered, that he had never become stir crazy or suffered from any variant of cabin fever.  Susan had also been well aware of this, but she reassured Jack that Ianto was ready to be released, nonetheless. 

“He needs rest above anything else, and I think he will rest more easily away from here,” she had declared the day before.  “He will recover, Jack.  But it will take time.  Remember, the curses had him on the verge of physical collapse.  His health would have failed in another few weeks, even if he had not taken those potions.”

It was such an easy thing to forget.  Because Ianto had seemed fine, it was a strange thing to realize that his health had been so precarious.  But they all needed the reminder, because it was just one more of the many reasons to help Ianto be patient with his recovery.  That was not a difficult task at the moment, since Ianto was still so weak and fatigued that there was no room to judge or be frustrated at how long it was all taking.

It wouldn’t be long, though.  Jack was certain that Ianto would become a far more difficult patient as soon as he felt well enough to realize his recovery was not going to be speedy.  He counted in his head and realized it had only been thirty-four days since that awful night in the hub, when Ianto had attempted to take his own life. 

To Jack’s mind, that wasn’t really all that long, considering how much Ianto had endured.  The number of curses he had carried, the pain of breaking them, and then all of the rest – the vortex, the courses of healing potions, the dragon’s blood potion and resulting fever…

To Jack, the shocking thing was that Ianto had been released from hospital after only thirty-four days.  And he did not regret a single minute of any of those days, because he and Ianto had talked, gotten to know one another even better, shared secrets and fears and dreams, and come to understand one another on a deeper level.

It had not been easy to keep things platonic the entire time, but nor was it difficult to refrain from letting the kisses go further, when faced with Ianto’s profound fatigue.  It was actually quite easy to do what was best for his lover, and Jack reveled in the feeling.

He also knew he would need to find a way to let Tosh and Owen know about Ianto’s state of health, but it would be hard, particularly for the doctor to hear.  Owen prided himself on his medical skills, but it would be a blow to know that Ianto had been damned close to collapse, and no one – not his best friend, not his doctor, not even his lover – had noticed.  Part of it was down to it mostly presenting as fatigue, and they all had to battle that, when things got hectic.  But it was also down to how well Ianto could mask his pain.  And he would have had to do a great deal of that, because if they had noticed, those bastard curses would have prevented him from telling them what was wrong, anyway.

These musings kept him preoccupied during their stroll through the park.  It was short-lived, but Ianto enjoyed it thoroughly, though it did not take long for him to begin leaning more heavily on Jack’s arm.  They headed for the Leaky Cauldron, arriving just in time for an early lunch.  They ordered their food and discussed the plan for the next few weeks. 

After a bit of arguing and the Healers finding out just how much more stubborn Ianto Jones was than Neville Longbottom, it was decided that Ianto and Jack would return to Cardiff once Ianto had secured a wand.  He would be allowed home to sleep in his own bed and recuperate a bit more, though he could expect daily visits from Healers.  Jack would have a chance to catch up properly at work for a few days and make sure everything was running smoothly.  And then on Sunday, they would be taken to Hogsmeade.

Ianto was surprised, but he was caught somewhere between disbelief that Jack would want to waste any more time on his recovery and doubt that Jack would be able to winkle his way back out of Torchwood – even a scant five days would be enough for him to become re-entrenched, particularly back under the influence of Gwen’s full focus.

Jack recognized Ianto’s doubts, and while it made him incredibly sad, he couldn’t blame the younger man for having them.  It was simply too soon for Ianto to fully trust Jack’s commitment.  But that only meant that Jack would have a plethora of opportunities to prove himself to his lover.

“So I see you wore Susan down,” Ginny said, setting down a tray filled with tankards of butterbeer.  Jack took a tankard for himself and handed Ianto another.  Harry offloaded his and Luna’s as Ginny took hers and returned the tray to the bar.  Once she was settled back in, she watched in fascination as Ianto sampled butterbeer for the first time since being cursed.

Unaware of his audience, Ianto took a sniff of the beverage that had never been a particular favorite.  But Jack had pointed out one evening as they had spoken fondly of Ginny’s infamous cake that Ianto actually liked butterscotch.  Ianto’s eyebrows twitched as he drew in the rich, sweet, buttery aroma and smiled at the warmth.

It was a strange thing.  Sense memory – particularly scent memory – often failed Ianto, because his senses had been altered so dramatically.  Butterbeer did not smell like it used to.  It still smelled like butterbeer, but where before he had found it cloyingly sweet, now he could dive below the sweetness and appreciate the depth and texture of the scent.

He raised the tankard and gave a tentative sip, rolling the liquid around in his mouth before swallowing, closing his eyes in concentration.  Jack smiled at the sight.  Ianto was fearless when it came to trying new things – that had worked out particularly well on certain alien diplomatic visits.  It was a function of his curiosity and open-mindedness that Yvonne had appreciated and cultivated. 

Jack appreciated it as well, but more as another wonderful facet of Ianto than as something he could exploit.  And so he smiled appreciatively at Ianto’s ritual for trying new things.  The sniff that seemed to take in so much, then the slow taste, savoring the flavors and textures.  If they were in the company of anyone who would be offended if he did not like it, no reaction would be discerned.  But usually he could find something he could appreciate.

“Oh, man,” he said now, having swallowed the drink.  “I do not remember that being so tasty.”  He frowned at the reminder of yet another thing the curse had changed, but they could almost see him decide to make the best of it.  “I like it,” he smiled, taking another sip.

Ginny perked up.  “So if you didn’t like pound cake or butterbeer before, no wonder you didn’t like my cake!”  Luna groaned, and Harry looked both fond and relieved that her enthusiasm wasn’t pointed at him, at the moment.  “So you might like it, now!”

Ianto blinked, then nodded.  “That’s true.  It wouldn’t be fair to say I don’t like it, now.  There are a lot of things I used to love that I can’t tolerate, now.  And some things I never thought I liked that I love.”

“Ha!” Ginny sat back, triumphant, and Luna groaned again, knowing her friend would once more be subjecting them to that appalling recipe.

Ianto chuckled and muttered to Jack in a quiet voice, “You’d better help me finish it, whether I like it or not.”

“Try and stop me,” Jack grinned, kissing Ianto’s temple and rubbing his hand up and down the younger man’s spine.  They were sat very close together, facing the room, with the others crowded around a table that was just a bit too small for five people.  Ianto was leaning into Jack, showing that even their short walk had been taxing.  Jack was tempted to ask for a room and let Ianto have a bit of sleep before they headed to the wand shop, but food seemed to perk his lover up, a bit.

“And I don’t know about wearing Susan down,” Ianto said, returning to their earlier topic, “but I did have to insist that I be allowed to return home for a few days.  Everyone expects me to rest and recuperate, but no one seems to appreciate how much more difficult that can be, when not sleeping in one’s own bed.”

Jack suspected there was slightly more to it than that.  He knew for a fact that there were very few places where Ianto felt safe.  The hub was one place; Ianto’s flat had become another.  Jack wasn’t certain how – after all, the flat Neville had been taken from couldn’t have been very different.  But then again, he had in the past taken notice of the impressive (some might even say excessive) security in Ianto’s building, as well as the various safety measures – both muggle and alien – that Ianto had deployed around the flat itself.  Ianto had also confessed that he had attempted to ward his flat, with varying degrees of success depending on how much magic was required for their efficacy (more for spells, less for potions, etc.).

“Well,” Ginny smiled, “here’s to a week of rest and recuperation.  I hope you are able to savor it.”

“To that end,” Luna said after tapping her tankard against the others’ and taking a drink, “when we drop you off, we would like to help you get settled in.”  At Ianto’s raised eyebrow, she went on.  “We can help you air your flat and ward it,” she did not add ‘properly’, as she did not want to offend her friend, but she had been to his flat just after Ron and Hermione told her about her beloved Smoke, and while his attempts at warding the place had been solid, they would not have been able to withstand any significant magical attack.

“Thank you,” Ianto said, giving them a shy, quiet smile.

“Ron and Hermione offered to take us to Hogsmeade on Sunday,” Jack said, smiling fondly at Ianto as their food arrived.  “They wanted us to go there today as soon as Ianto gets his wand, but…”

“I want to go home,” Ianto sighed.  “I… I need someplace quiet and familiar, to regroup.  Then maybe I’ll be ready…” he trailed off, shrugging.

Luna reached out and took his hand.  “I know you’re nervous, Smoke, but you have a lot more magic than you think.”  It was her turn to shrug when he looked at her, surprised.  “You always have, but your confidence was shaken.  Then you sort of hit your stride.  I imagine you just need to find that stride again.”

“I worry I won’t be able to,” Ianto confessed, his voice quiet.

“Nonsense!” Luna said bracingly.

“Mate, I’ve seen people’s magic come unspooled before,” Harry said, leaning forward and looking intent.  “Believe me, you have plenty of magic, and you did a damned fine job of controlling it, even after seven and a half years, with someone else’s wand, and without it being anchored,” his eyes strayed to Jack before returning to Ianto.  “I know it’s been a while.  That’s why we thought a refresher would be good for you.  But after seeing what you did that night for Jack, I know you’ll be fine.”

“Thanks,” Ianto nodded, his eyes on his food.  “Just nervous, I suppose.”

“You have every reason to be,” Ginny reassured, “but that doesn’t mean you can’t come back, stronger than ever.”

The conversation turned, and Jack was just relieved to see that Ianto’s nerves didn’t seem to have affected his appetite.  Something had shifted in his final days at St. Mungo’s, once he had recovered from the fever.  The dragon’s blood potion had clearly done its job, because Ianto seemed far more balanced and comfortable in his own skin. 

The worst part had been testing the Hominum Revelio spell, to be sure it no longer held any sway.  Bill and the Healers had been confident that the potion had worked, but the only way to know for sure was to try the spell.  It had not hurt him, and Ianto had almost passed out in relief.  But then that relief had given way to a new phase of the wizard’s recovery, perhaps because there were no further curses or remnants to fear.

***