Everyone else thought… well, everyone else thought that it had been simple. Just to forget about everything and walk right to Jack… And sometimes it was. Sometimes, it was entirely simple to just go to him and forget everything and everyone. Jack could make a good case for never leaving a room he was in, he was somehow excellent at making the world fall away in favour of indulging in him instead. Sometimes.

Everyone else thought he just stopped caring about anything, and started sleeping with Jack just to do it. To imagine that it all had never happened. 

It had never been that. There had been those moments, at the very beginning, in between saving one another. Catching Myfanwy had been the most obvious moment that it had started. Conflicting things that had started there. It was all there, from the beginning. A sort of tension that simmered under the surface in every interaction. 

Then there had been Lisa, and while Ianto may have been flexible in his definitions of relationships, he was nothing short of a faithful partner. All of the things happening in the background had to fade to white noise in the face of her pain, and the need for her to be well again. It would have been a betrayal, then.

 But then Lisa was gone. All of her pain, their pain, the pain that had sometimes filled the space between them, until there was no room for anything else. All of the guilt for what he felt when he wasn't with her. All of the ties that made it so he was kept to one place and time. There was grief, yes of course there was. But eventually... It was more like he had been mourning her for a very long time. Since the battle of Canary Wharf. Since the War. Since Torchwood One. He had been grieving for so long, even while she was still 'alive', that it didn't seem so inappropriate to try to step past it so soon after she 'died'.

And this, this tension between himself and Jack. It had also been there for most of that time. Waiting for the moment when it could fully make itself known. 

This wasn't new. This wasn't abrupt, or sudden, or flighty, or a whim. It was inevitable. It was only a question of when.


 In which Hermione may or may not have a secret cabinet of tea.

“I just don’t understand why you would make it so complicated!” said Hermione from the corner in her over cushioned  arm chair.

Three heads turned and looked at her.

“Make what so complicated?” said Harry.

“The ending of one Professor Severus Snape, JD.” Hermione returned.

“And how do you suppose I make it less complicated, Hermione,” Harry asked.

“Well it’s simple, isn’t it? You poison his afternoon tea, you tamper with his car, you get him alone and inject an air bubble directly into his heart. Not difficult!” Hermione said matter-of-factly.

Harry, Dean, and Theo looked at her, dumbfounded. 

“What? Really. You want someone dead, you knock on their door, they answer, you shoot them! Easy.” To her credit, Hermione said this with a straight face.

“I don’t want to go to prison for murder, Hermione, I just wish that the man weren’t so infuriating!” Harry exclaimed.

“Maybe you should be more careful what you wish for, Harry,” Hermione responded.

Theo stared at Hermione and hesitated for just a moment before saying, “Hermione, sometimes I really forget to make notes not to anger you.”

Hermione scoffed, “As if I am at all dangerous., Theo!”

Theo just shook his head and wandered into the kitchen.



September 2011

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