Cursed

Ginny watched her brother leave, frowning.  Then she blinked and looked back at Jack and Ianto.  “Actually, Euphemia doesn’t like a big audience.  How about you two go in?  Harry can wait for you and keep an eye on things, and Luna and I can go help George with tea.”

Ianto grinned after her, then turned and took Jack’s hand.  “Poor George.”

“Problem?” Jack asked as they walked.

“He’s in for the third degree,” Ianto shrugged a shoulder.  “It always seems to come as a surprise that I have friends,” he said, not seeing Harry’s eyes widen at the statement that had been made with something approximating indifference.  “Here we are,” he added as they stopped before the wandmaker’s shop.

“Wait,” Jack frowned, pulling Ianto around to face him.  “No, I’m not allowing that.”

“What?” Ianto frowned.  Then he realized that Jack was angry.  “Jack, don’t worry about it.  I did try to tell you.  And it’s not that I didn’t have friends; I just always felt like each of them was making an exception – like being my friend was not something they would normally do, but they’d give it a try.  You know.  Just this once.”

“What?” Jack recoiled as though Ianto had slapped him.

“That’s something that didn’t change, actually,” Ianto added, gazing thoughtfully at the cheerful storefront of Ollivander & Stone.  “Even Tosh was hesitant.  And I suppose it’s why you didn’t want to get involved, though my betrayal was probably also on your mind.  But it’s why Owen still says I’m just your part-time shag.  And it’s why Gwen will never believe she can’t have you with a click of her fingers.”

“Ianto,” Jack sighed.  “We were already friends.  ‘Just this once’ was about sleeping together, because I was worried it would affect our work.”  He pulled the younger man into his arms.  “I’m sorry I was distant.  I know I sent mixed signals and confused you, and I will do everything I can to make that up to you, but you have to stop telling yourself these horrible lies, which don’t seem to accomplish anything other than inflict pain.  Why are you being so unkind to yourself?”

“I don’t mean to be,” Ianto frowned.  “I guess I just never understood.  It’s so easy for… well, for everyone else.  I always try to be kind, and friendly, and helpful, and people just… ignore me.  If I’m lucky.  But then they’re mean and horrible and unkind to one another, and it just makes them want those friendships more.  I’ve never understood it, but one thing that was always clear was that they seemed as surprised as I was if we’d get to be friends.”

Ianto reached up and cupped Jack’s cheek and gave a sad smile.  “Merlin, your face!  Please don’t let this bother you, Jack.  I realize that someone as popular and charismatic as you probably can’t even imagine your opposite.  I’m quiet and introverted, and that is almost always dismissed as bland and boring.  It takes more effort than most people are willing to exert to get to know me.”

“And you think they’re surprised when that effort pays off,” Jack said, his voice still pained.

“Some even say so,” Ianto nodded, and Jack looked outraged.

“But Ginny’s your friend!  Why do you think she’d feel that way about your friendship with George?” he asked.

“She’s one of the ones who said that,” Ianto seemed unconcerned by something that hurt Jack, just to consider.

“What?” Harry exclaimed.

“She used to say it all the time.  How it always surprised her that we ended up being friends.”

Harry groaned, and Jack looked outraged.

“Look, she didn’t mean it the way you’re taking it,” Ianto said, trying to be reasonable.  “And I don’t see how you can be offended, when I’m telling you that it’s alright.”

“But it’s not alright, Ianto!” Jack said and jerked his lover in for a hug when he realized he’d given him a bit of a shake.  “Sorry,” he muttered, kissing Ianto’s hair.

“I’m not made of glass, Jack,” Ianto tried to quip as he stepped back.  He was frowning, trying to figure out why Jack was so offended.  “But come on.  It’s just a fact of life that some people make friends more easily than others.”

“Yeah, but they don’t have to be twats about it,” Jack muttered, and Harry coughed to cover a laugh.

“Put your sword away, Love,” Ianto said, giving Jack a tender smile as he leaned in for a kiss.  “Perhaps you can be my champion some other day.”

Jack refrained from making an innuendo about his sword and dove back in for a proper snog as Harry took the opportunity to scan around them again.  The only attention they were now garnering was for the unapologetic public display of affection.  He smiled as two women rushed by, giggling.

When Jack finally released Ianto, the younger man was flushed and breathless.  “I plan to be your champion for all our days,” Jack said, still holding Ianto by the upper arms and looking at him intently.  “You are worth every effort, Ianto.  Do you hear me?”

“Thank you,” Ianto smiled, but Jack wasn’t sure that his lover entirely believed the reassurance.  He tried not to think too hard about how Ianto had turned people’s unkindness and neglect into a weapon (of sorts) against them when he was trying to save Lisa.  But then he shook his head, realizing that even if that were true, Jack had long since ceased seeing any malice in Ianto’s actions. 

He knew well enough the younger man’s regrets; so the only thing left to consider was the love, desperation, grief, and despair that drove his actions.  In that light, forgiveness had been quite easy.  Jack was just sorry that the team (including himself) had lived down to Ianto’s expectations by not even bothering to befriend him in any real sense.  He firmly believed that it could have all been prevented, had any one of them bothered to take the trouble.

Jack sighed, knowing he had a good deal of work to do, to make Ianto believe him.  But he had plenty of time, and he planned to make a good fist of it.  He grinned.  “Ready to meet your new wand?”

Ianto smiled and headed towards the door.  Jack reached for the handle, and Harry said, “I’ll wait for you out here,” and gave them a wave and an encouraging smile.

A small bell above the door announced their presence.  Ianto looked around in awe.  The last time he had been in the shop had been eleven years before, when he had gone in to replace his father’s wand, which had been broken during the Battle of the Department of Mysteries.  The place had been grey and dank and dusty.  Ianto distinctly remembered hating the place and had been secretly dreading this undertaking.

But now, the shop was clean and tidy.  Bright and well-lit, with box after box neatly arranged on highly polished shelves, which were comfortably spaced and lined up so the ends were facing the front of the shop behind the counter, which ran most of the width of the shop.  The place was spotless and felt warm and welcoming.  Ianto felt some of the tension in his shoulders ease.  He was also relieved that Mr. Ollivander had retired.  Ianto had always found the man…  Well, a bit creepy, if he were honest.

It struck him now who Dr. Tanizaki had reminded him of.  Like the doctor, Mr. Ollivander was slightly amoral when it came to his fascination with the power wielded by wizards, and how their wands channeled that power.  He was engrossed in the dynamics, but perhaps less interested than would be ideal in whether that power was light or dark.  He sometimes lost track of right and wrong in his pursuit of knowledge.  That very much reminded Ianto of Tanizaki.

“Hello!”

Ianto was pulled from his reverie when a plump woman of average height and in her middle years emerged from the back room.  She had a stack of five wand boxes in her hands, and she set them on the counter separating the neat rows of shelves from the waiting area at the front of the shop, which now had comfortable seating, a coffee table weighed down by numerous periodicals (including the latest edition of the Quibbler), and a water cooler full of chilled pumpkin juice.

“Good afternoon,” he returned her smile, only to find hers falter.

“Oh my stars and garters,” she breathed.  “It’s you, innit?”  She seemed to catch herself and drew in a deep breath.  “My name is Euphemia Stone.  I heard your name has changed.  May I have the honor of an introduction?”

“My name is Ianto Jones.”  Ianto couldn’t help but appreciate the courtesy she showed, both in her introduction and her refusal to pretend she didn’t know who he was.  It was neatly done.

“Good, strong Welsh name,” she nodded approvingly.  “Well, it’s lovely to meet you,” she smiled and held out her hand, which Ianto shook before introducing her to Jack.  “You are both very welcome,” she declared, then pulled out her wand and waved it towards the door.  “I think we should take our time, so I’ll just close the shop to foot traffic until we’re done.”  Jack watched, fascinated as always, as the lock turned and the sign on the window flipped from “Open” to “Closed”.  She then tucked her wand away and gestured to the loveseat in front of the shop’s window.  “Have a seat.  No need for this to be a taxing process.  We’ll start with a little chat.  Get to know one another so I have a feel for where we should start.”

Jack and Ianto sat side by side on the loveseat, which was small enough that their thighs were pressed together.  Jack leaned forward and took a large tome from the table.  It was a book on wands and wandlore by Garrick Ollivander.  He opened it and began to idly flip through, trying to repress his smile.  Ianto hated “little chats”.

“What would you like to know, Ms. Stone?”

“None of that, now.  Please call me Effie,” she smiled, and Jack felt some of Ianto’s tension ease as her warmth and friendliness began to win him over.  “I suppose we can start with some history.  As soon as I read the article in the Quibbler, I remembered that your broken wand being found in your flat was one of the reasons you had been given up for dead…  Oh, I’m so sorry, dear,” she reached out and took Ianto’s hand when he flinched.  “How unkind of me.  I do apologize.”

“Not at all,” Ianto insisted.  “It’s just all a bit… raw, at the moment.” 

“Of course it is.  How thoughtless of me,” she sighed, then went on.  “At any rate, I remembered that article from the Daily Prophet, just after you disappeared.  So I knew you would need a new wand, probably sooner than later, after being… well.”

Jack found himself being won over as well as she chose not to speak of Ianto being spellbound.

She hesitated before adding, “I remember another article from the Daily Prophet, as well.  I won’t speak of it, but please just let me tell you both that you gave us all hope when the Earth was dying, and we had damned little reason to have any.  I have a feeling you were never properly thanked for that, but I hope you will accept my gratitude, at least.”

Jack and Ianto were both taken aback.  Jack squeezed Ianto’s hand and thanked Effie, who chose that moment to rise and pour tall glasses of pumpkin juice for each of them.  Neville had loathed pumpkin juice, but Ianto now felt himself indifferent to the taste.  But it was cold and wet, and it soothed his parched throat, so he was grateful for the gesture – as well as the fact that it gave them a moment to collect themselves after her unexpected expression of gratitude.

***