Harry awoke to a young morning, the first dark grey fingers of dawn spreading through the sky. He turned his head to peak at Lucas, only to find him spread out wide on the bed and snoring softly. It was as Harry was blinking rapidly to force the film from his eyes, that he recalled the night before. The battle of Hogwarts, terror, waking up, panic, cold sea air, the warm consoling presence of Lucas, worried dark blue eyes glimmering in the darkness.
Any traces of sleep fled his mind and Harry quietly slipped from the bed.
By the time Lucas found him again, he was in the kitchen, scrubbing at a stubborn pot. Harry looked up as the door opened and his eyes connected with sea-blue and he froze. The events of the previous night were a hazy fog between them that neither dared to enter. As personable as Lucas could be, they still hardly knew each other. It wasn't his place to dig into Harry's past, and in the light of day, Harry was reminded of how shortly he'd known the boy for and to even think of dumping his past and his problems on a fourteen-year-old was ludicrous. Harry, more than anyone, knew the folly of putting too much responsibility on a child. Harry had practically raised himself, and never in his life had he really felt like a child.
"I thought I would get a head start to the day." Harry supplied after a moment of tentative silence, returning his attention to the wire brush in his hand, scrubbing away at the cooked-on gunk. As if his eyes had pinned Lucas to the spot, the blonde stumbled into motion the moment he looked away and began preparing breakfast. It took some time, but eventually the elephant in the room meandered away and they managed to once again fall into easy company.
Harry could tell that Lucas was not only curious, but concerned for him, and it did help reassure him that he hadn't scared the boy away just yet.
Huffing in frustration, his energy thoroughly spent, Harry set the pot on a table and sent a vindictive scourgify at it, stripping the layers of grime and stains from its walls. He then joined Lucas in preparing breakfast for the crew. Harry was stirring a pot of porridge in Lucas' absence while the boy went below deck to retrieve some spices from storage, when the door opened.
"Lucas, how long do-" Harry cut himself off when he turned and realized that the figure in the doorway was not, in fact, Lucas.
The king blinked and looked down, then around the room—anywhere that wasn't directly at him.
"I—um . . . I was just wondering if you . . . if you had any apples?" Tom seemed to stumble over his words, his broad shoulders pulling in slightly as he fought for words in his jumbled mind. The confident, stern King he'd seen around his men was gone. In his place was a blushing, fumbling man who looked at Harry like a child waiting to be scolded.
Harry for his part, stood frozen, staring at the befuddling King with his lips parted and a slight divot between his brows. First Tom demands that Harry—a criminal who was about to be incarcerated—join him on some secret and dangerous journey. Then he avoids Harry all day like he'd forgotten the man who had shared his most intimate dreams for months with. Followed up by 'protecting' him that very night when one of his guards felt the need to relieve him of his life blood. And lastly, being witness to Harry's vulnerable moment in the middle of the night.
Now he's here, acting flustered like a timid lad in his presence whilst asking for an apple?!
Harry turned around without a word and ducked into the produce pantry where they kept fresh food stuff. He grabbed a single red apple and left the pantry.
"You can have one today, but we have to conserve the rest for later." Harry handed over the fruit and pull back before their fingers made contact.
"Thank you." The sincerity in his deep voice was wholly unfamiliar to Harry and he couldn't help but stare.
The only Tom Riddle that he had ever known of in his own world had been manipulative, apathetic, and even cruel. Even in his days as a student, Tom had been a prisoner to his pride, arrogance, and fear. And then the dreams had started and Harry had been too starved for the fleeting, phantom affection that came in the night to question any out of place behavior.
Now, with the knowledge that the man who he had met in his dreams was actually this Tom, Harry wasn't sure what to make of the man before him. Was it all a façade? Much like how almost all the people who knew Tom Riddle from his world thought him to be the perfect student, the perfect wizard; was the slight dusting of pink high in his cheeks and touching the tips of his ears just a ruse to make him appear harmless? Harry didn't know, and therefore, he didn't know how to proceed besides not trusting him.
Harry cleared his throat and turned around to go back to stirring the pot of porridge. He felt hyperaware of the man still standing behind him but tried to appear unbothered.
"We didn't get the chance to talk yesterday." Tom broke the silence.
"I don't have all the answers. I don't know why . . . or how." It was the truth, technically. Harry felt that his connection to Voldemort in his own world might have some correlation, but he had no idea in what way. It just seemed like a little too much of a coincidence that his fate was tied with Tom Riddle in his world and this one. Or maybe it was all some sort of sick cosmic joke.
"Did you know who I was?" There was a hard edge to Tom's voice now, an insecurity he hadn't expected.
"I had no idea who you were," he hadn't known that the man in his dream scape had been some King of an alternate reality, that much was true, "I'm . . . I'm not exactly from around here, so I had no idea you were a king." it was a little risky giving away any information on himself. But something told Harry leaving things up to Tom's imagination when he could apparently infiltrate the King's dreams?! That sounded like a good way to getting himself beheaded—if they even did that here.
"How did you know my name?" Harry asked after a moment, remembering his surprise the day before when Tom had addressed him. Harry looked over his shoulder so he could gage the other's response.
"You told me once, in a dream. You probably don't remember since it was right before you woke up, but I had asked over and over again. I didn't think you ever truly heard me, except for that one time. I had finally gotten your name, but that was when the dreams stopped." Tom held his gaze unwaveringly, and yet again Harry was seeing a side of the man he'd never thought possible. He looked . . . desperate.
"I thought, 'He must be a heavenly deity, for no mortal man would dare defy the gods with such beauty.' Or perhaps a divine celestial had escaped the heavens to bless me with his company. If I had known you walked the physical plane, I would have searched for you down to the farthest reaches of the earth to find you." Now it was Harry's turn to blush all the way to his roots and feel like a fumbling dunderhead.
Harry averted his gaze back to his porridge before he did something utterly idiotic—like pull a King into a tiny food pantry and taste his lips once more. Harry softly cleared his throat under his breath before speaking.
"That's ridiculous. I assure your Majesty that I am just as human and mortal as anyone else on this vessel!" Harry huffed, feeling annoyed at both himself for being so easily ruffled, and at Tom for saying such embarrassing things aloud. Where the hell is Lucas?!
"But you're not quite like them, are you? I've heard some rather incredible things from the others on this ship. Some even say you might be cursed-" Just then the door to the dining hall opened and Lucas—the saint that he was—walked in with a small crate.
"Oh! Y-Your Majesty!" Lucas hurried to bow as he shuffled around him to get into the kitchen. "Is there anything we can get for you?" Lucas asked once he'd set down the crate and brushed his hands off on his pants.
"I just came for an apple, thank you." Tom held up said apple as if to prove his words to the fourteen-year-old. Harry bit his lip and looked away, refusing to acknowledge that the man's flustering was in any way endearing.
"I see, well . . . if there's anything else we can do for you, let us know." Lucas offered with a smile before turning away to help Harry with the porridge he'd been mindlessly stirring.
"Right, I'll be off then." Harry peaked out of the corner of his eye at the man as he hesitantly left the dining hall.
Lucas leaned in once they were alone.
"Do you think he knows I also slept in his bed? Do you think he's mad?" The boy fretted under his breath. Harry chuckled and bumped his shoulder against Lucas' gently.
"If he was, I doubt he'd show it by eating through your stock of apples. No need to worry, kid. I don't think he cares." Harry assured, but the crease between Lucas' brows didn't fade.
"Actually, I've been wondering since last night but, why did he let you take his bed? Do you two know each other?" Lucas asked as he began to sprinkle in some herbs he'd brought up from below deck.
"Sort of. . . We met a few brief times in the past, but I had no idea at the time that he was the King." Harry tried to tip-toe around the truth.
"Ah, is that why you both act so strange around each other?"
"Huh?" Harry turned to look at Lucas but just then, as if on que, the door opened and the hall flooded with famished crewmen.
On his second day out at sea, Harry found himself out on the deck after breakfast. He sat with Lucas on a large crate next to the door to the dining hall, cast in the cool shade of the stairs leading to the upper deck. Harry was carving up a large round pear for him and Lucas to eat while they watched the bustle of the crew maintaining the ship. Jeb was back at the helm, guiding the vessel through the calm waters. Tom was in the captain's quarters doing lord knows what.
"How long will it take for us to reach the Island of the Damned?" Harry asked as he popped a crisp slice of pear into his mouth. The juices were sweet and tart on his tongue and a smile formed on his lips as he cut another slice for Lucas.
"Hmm, about a week? So long as we don't hit any storms or have trouble with other ships, it shouldn't take any longer than that." Lucas took the slice with a happy 'thank you' and bounced a little in his seat.
"Are we making any stops along the way?" Harry tried to make it sound casual.
"No, I don't think so. We have more than enough to last us until we reach the island, and then we'll be restocking there before we head out again. Why, you planning on ditching?" Apparently not casual enough. Lucas gave him a serious look, but he didn't seem disappointed or judgmental about Harry potentially bolting at the soonest possible opportunity. Harry sighed and let his hands fall limp in his lap.
"I may have been arrested, but that was only on suspicion that I was up to something. They didn't have any proof that I know of and nobody caught me red-handed of stealing. I technically haven't been charged of anything yet. I don't want a life of excitement and danger. I just want a quiet life, away from the chaos. Maybe someplace out in the wilderness? Somewhere to raise a family. . ." The last part came out in almost a whisper, a quiet plea from deep in his heart.
"I can't say I really understand—I don't feel like I'm living unless my hearts racing and the wolves are snapping at my heels—but I think I can see it. You have this amazing unknown power and could probably really make a name for yourself, but instead you spend your time in the kitchen with me, peeling potatoes and making sure I eat enough and go to sleep early enough. You seem to really enjoy when things are quiet and easy. I respect that about you." Lucas reached over and patted Harry's shoulder affectionately. He rolled his eyes and ruffled the kids dirty-blonde hair in response.
"I don't know whether to take that as a compliment, or if that's just your polite way of calling me boring!" Harry teased with a mock glare. Lucas laughed and smacked Harry's shoulder.
"Shouldn't you two be working? You're not getting paid to sit around on your asses." Barked a livid voice. The pair turned to see that one of the King's guards—the one that had drawn his sword on Harry that first night to be more specific—standing before them with a hateful glower on his wrinkled face.
"We still have an hour before we need to start working on lunch." Harry answered calmly, but his body was tensed and ready for a fight if it came down to it. Excessive unused magic was nearly sizzling under his skin and just like with Jeb, he wasn't sure if he'd be able to keep it from acting on his instincts.
"Yeah, besides that, the crew has more than enough hands on deck to manage the ship right now. Also, Harry isn't technically a part of the crew you hired. He's a guest of the King." Lucas defended him with a glare.
"How dare you talk back you little rat-" Once again, his hand had gone straight for his sword.
"Is there a problem here?" Jeb interrupted, his hulking shadow falling over the guard as he towered over the man. The guard turned around to face him and despite the obvious size difference, he glared at Jeb like he was nothing but a nuisance. The guard's hand tightened on the hilt of his sword and he had just moved to draw it when,
"Captain Grant, his Majesty is requesting your presence in his chambers." Another guardsmen said as he strode up, seemingly unaware of the situation he was disrupting until he was upon them. Captain Grant glowered for a beat longer, then he side-stepped Jeb and harshly knocked shoulders with the man as he passed. Jeb spat on the deck as if to get a foul taste out of his mouth.
"What's his problem?" Harry grumbled as he slowly dismantled the magic sitting ready under his skin so it didn't explode out of him if he so much as sneezed.
"Like most noblemen, he seems to have a wooden stick firmly implanted in his ass."
"Lucas!" Harry exclaimed with mild shock and horror. Jeb unhelpfully roared with laughter and patted Lucas on the head approvingly. Lucas smiled innocently up at Harry and blinked his big doe eyes at him imploringly. Brat. Harry huffed and looked away so as not to get caught up in Lucas' deception.
"Oi, Harry, was it?" Jeb addressed him, with all the temporary mirth having drained away. "I still don't trust you as far as the sea is wide. I don't right know what it is you do or how you create your illusions, but so long as you don't harm my men, I promise you'll find no more trouble on my ship." The bear of a man frowned around his words in consternation. The raven-haired man could tell that he was trying at the very least. He supposed he could throw him a small olive branch for the efforts.
"I harbor no ill will towards anyone of your crew. However, I will not hesitate to protect myself through any means possible. What I did to you was just a warning. The next person to attack me or attempt to harm my body, their life will be forfeit." The honesty of his words reflected in his face. He had to be sure that what he said was taken seriously enough that he hopefully never had to resort to violence.
"I understand. And about that, I'm sorry. I've been told that I may have gone too far with my jokes." Jeb glanced at Lucas with a sheepish expression that was ridiculous-looking on such a beastly man.
"I don't give a rats-ass what you say about me. I just don't like to be touched, especially by a stranger." Jeb's head ducked further towards his chest with a look of contrition pinching his face.
"Of course. It won't happen again." Jeb couldn't even meet his gaze as he excused himself to take over back at the helm. Hm, maybe he's not as bad as I thought. . .
"I'm guessing you might have something to do with his sudden change of heart?" Harry tease Lucas when he turned and caught the boy smiling proudly at Jeb's back.
"I haven't a clue what you're talking about good sir." Lucas shot back in his most over-the-top posh voice, before he hopped off the crate and scurried back into the dining hall.
Crash! Bang!
"STORM! ALL HANDS ON DECK!" Harry jolted awake in his hammock to the shouting and scrambling of others around him jumping up and running for the stairs. It was dark in the lodging area, save for a few oil lamps and the white strobe coming through the hatch above the stairs. Rumbling quakes of thunder shook the sea and sheets of rain sprayed and splashed down the open hatch.
Harry nearly tumbled out of his bed in his sleepy haste to get up, but years of practice and living like he was on the precipice of death had his faculties flooding back to him in an instant. He caught Lucas' arm just as the boy was shooting past him.
"Lucas! What's going on?" Already the lodgings had evacuated and they were nearly the only ones left below deck. The booming thunder was accompanied by the frantic drum of feet on the wood planks above their heads.
"We must have sailed into a storm. From the sounds of it and how much the ship is rocking, it's a bad one! You should stay down here since you don't have experience with this. Up there you might get in the way and end up knocked overboard in the chaos. By the time we realize we might be too far away to turn around." Lucas warned, pushing Harry back towards his hammock. The older of the two shook his head immediately.
"I'll be fine, I'm a lot more capable than you think. Let's go see what's going on up there." Harry stepped around Lucas and strode toward the stairs before the other could argue any further.
Lucas was right. Both about the storm being a bad one, and about how insane it would be above deck. Torrents of rain had soaked Harry through almost as soon as he was top-side, but the flow of magic nearly bursting from his every cell left him completely unworried he'd catch any kind of sickness in the weather. The ship rocked and bucked on the raging sea ominously and Harry felt like he was trying to stand steady on the back of a fitful giant. The thunder was nearly deafening out in the open and all around the ship white bolts of lightning struck the water and lit up the dark clouds above in flashes of purple and silver.
Harry felt like an ant in the playground of gods as the sky buckled and sea revolted. Mother nature thrashed and screamed around them, blind to any lives she might take in her tantrum.
Crewmen were running around the deck, heaving at ropes with all of their weight, carrying around crates, and shouting over the cacophony. Harry watched them struggle to drop the sails for a moment before finally they lowered to avoid catching the howling wind and the tilting of the ship felt a little less like it was going to tip right over and send them all into the throes of the black waters. Lucas ran into the fray without hesitation and began to help tie down crates and barrels so that they wouldn't slide about and bowl people over.
Any man without a specific task was near the railings and using their magic to pull the pooling water on the main deck up and over the ledge and down the side of the hull, to keep it from flooding below deck or pulling at the ankles of the men who needed their sure footing more than ever.
Harry moved carefully to the railing and stared wide-eyed out at the water. The wind was strong enough to lick up waves nearly five meters high. The ship only managing to split such waves due to its sheer mass. His gaze lifted from the tumultuous sea to the blurred horizon, and finally up to the sky. It seemed they were helplessly careening towards the eye of the storm without their sails. Harry could see from there that the men who were keeping the deck from flooding were also using their magic to nudge at the side of the hull to try to change directions, but they didn't have nearly enough power to fight the currents.
A shadow in his periphery had Harry squinting back up at the sky through the rain. Flash—Bang! There! Just barely glimpsed through the thick clouds: three sets of wings. Harry gasped and nearly lost his footing on the deck, only managing to stay up by gripping the railing like a lifeline. A Thunderbird. . . He'd never seen one in his own world, only read about them in his Care of Magical Creatures class. They were nearly extinct and heavily protected.
Harry waited for one more flash of lightning to confirm his suspicions before he acted. Staring unblinkingly into the rain and wind, he waited. . . Flash! Silver and blue cut through the storm clouds and he saw the unmistakable silhouette of the mythical creature. It was huge. For being cousins to the Pheonix, Thunderbirds were bigger than a truck.
Harry turned away from the railing and his eyes desperately searched for whoever was commanding the ship.
It came as little surprise that Tom was at the helm, bellowing orders as his arms wrestled with the wheel to keep it from spinning out of control. He truly looked like a king commanding his armies on the front lines of a war, a fearsome archangel descending upon them to wield the mighty power of the gods.
"Get back!" Harry was halfway across the deck when he heard the scream. He froze in his tracks and sought out the reason for the desperate cry. It was too late. His stomach dropped out from under him as the ship suddenly sank lower and a shadow fell over the entire vessel. At first, Harry thought that, impossibly, a mountain had sprung up out of the water in a matter of seconds. But no. . . It was no mountain. It was a solid wall of black water that sucked the torrents from beneath the ship and caused it to sink closer to the sea floor. It was nearly three times the height of the ship and would surely engulf them at any moment and drag them into a watery grave.
Surely what he was gazing into was the great, glassy maw of death.
Harry stumbled back away from the edge but his mind had seized up with panic and was sputtering to quickly find a way to save him and his baby. Before he could think of anything, a tall figure skidded onto the wet deck and threw both of his hands up and out just as the tidal wave was curling over their ship. With a great guttural shout, his arms cut down in front of him and in a wave of energy the likes of which Harry hadn't felt since facing the Dark Lord, the tidal wave was cleaved down its center and the water rushed past the vessel on either side in a V formation. The ship tilted with the remaining rush of water against the hull but quickly righted itself.
Breath sputtered from his lungs. We're alive.
Harry's eyes burned, perhaps from the rain. Perhaps from relief.
Exclamations of awe and disbelief rang out from the crewmen as Tom heaved with exertion.
Harry closed the last few strides of distance between them and grabbed the soaked material of Tom's jacket in order to pull him back to face him.
"It's a thunderbird!" Harry shouted over the white noise of the storm still raging around them. The King's face pinched in confusion and he looked down at Harry's lips like he hadn't quite heard him.
"What?!"
"A thunderbird!" Harry shouted louder and pointed to the sky. Tom looked up and stared hard at the clouds for a moment. Then, his face transformed into one of horror as he must have seen what Harry already knew to be there.
"If that's what you say it is, then we are all doomed. We will never escape this storm." Tom didn't shout it, for fear of being overheard by any of the crew, but Harry had read the words on his dripping lips. The younger man shook his head, he knew it was dangerous to encounter one in the wild, but there were ways to get away without dying. Though, maybe in this world, there weren't. They didn't have the spells and charms that Harry had.
Harry shifted his hold to the man's wrist and pulled him back up towards the helm, so that they'd be a bit away from the rest of the crew and could talk a little easier. Tom took hold of the wheel again but kept his focus on Harry.
"Thunderbirds are dangerous, but they're mostly timid creatures. We must have sailed too close to their nest and this storm is to protect itself. It may have even thought that the ship was one huge creature and it's trying to defend itself. If we can keep it from seeing us, the storm should stop!" Harry explained hurriedly. There weren't any more waves quite as big as that last one, but it was only a matter of time before the thunderbird tried to capsize them again.
"But how in the world do you suggest we do that? We can't turn the ship around in these waters and there's nowhere to hide out in the middle of the sea." Tom argued but Harry's brain was already racing. Disillusionment charms were only meant for one person—a few more if the caster's powerful enough—and a notice-me-not charm wouldn't work on a whole ship. Glamours are similarly small scaled, and Harry can't get a clear enough shot at the thunderbird while it's in the clouds to try to bewitch the bird itself.
Wait. . . Maybe. . .
Harry took a deep breath to center himself and draw in his concentration. He withdrew the Elder wand from his pocket and blocked out all of the noise around him. He stepped behind Tom, who was looking over his shoulder at Harry in confusion, so that nobody but Tom would see what he was about to do. The others might know that he can do something more, but he'd rather they not know anything more than that he can vaguely create some sort of illusions. He also might not fully trust Tom, but this was kind of a life-or-death moment and of anyone he had to trust on a split decision, the father of his child wasn't his worst choice.
"Fidelius Occultatum!" Harry began to draw slow, deliberate circles in the air with his wand as he continued to chant the spell's incantation and it felt like the air around him pulsed with each rotation. Distorted air swelled around him and started to envelop the ship. It couldn't really be seen in the rain, but the moment it completely encased the ship and Harry finished the spell, the rain could no longer permeate the barrier and the ship fully righted itself in the waters as if the waves no longer effected it.
Harry hadn't been sure if it would work on a moving vessel, but he thanked whatever gods might be out there that it had.
Tom kept one hand on the wheel and turned bodily to face Harry with a stricken look across his face. His lips were parted and his eyes glittered in the dancing lightning like small star bursts. He looked amazed and overwhelmed all at once and Harry had no idea how to process the clear awe on his flushed face. Harry couldn't really bear it, and yet . . . he couldn't bear to look away either.
"Harry. . ." His name fell from the man's lips like a prayer and he wanted it inscribed on his skin.
So many times, Harry had been on the receiving end of other people's expressions: ones of adoration, salvation, distrust, disgust, envy, and everything else they could possibly project onto him. And every time it made him feel sick to his stomach because he knew that whatever they saw in him, wasn't the real Harry. He'd just been a puppet for their own hatred and desires.
But the way Tom's eyes held him and caressed his features, it-. . . it touched something at the very core of his being. Harry had spent every moment of his life running from the attention and expectations of others—either doing what he was told to keep himself in their good-graces, or running towards his death to shed the life they had forced him into—but in that moment, standing just a few feet away from a man who had given him everything and had taken nothing in return but his company, Harry wanted to bask in Tom's awe. He wanted to bathe himself in the flood of admiration and wonder pouring from that dark gaze. He wanted to be greedy for his attention.
They were broken from their private moment by a commotion down on the main deck. Harry slipped his wand into his charmed pocket and stepped past Tom to see what was happening. All of the men on the main deck had gone still, ropes and various tools hanging limp from their hands while all of their faces were turned upward. Harry could see why.
They had coasted right into the eye of the storm and inside the eye the rain was barely a trickle, giving the crew a full clear view of what lay within. Not one, but five massive thunderbirds soared through the sky on three sets of silver and gold wings with sizzling blue lightning trailing out from between their feathers to feed into the storm around them.
Their eyes burned like tiny blue stars in their blinding brilliance. Their trills and resonant calls stirred up the bone-shaking thunderclaps that vibrated the very air. As they swooped low to the water, their long white tail feathers dragged up waves that grew larger and larger the further it got from the creature.
They were storms personified. Tempest creatures of majesty and magic. Gods of the skies in their own rite.
It was a truly breathtaking sight. Harry could feel the magic permeating the air, charging it like electricity. And with his dissolved core, Harry could feel it flooding into him like a conduit—like a lightning rod. Harry gasped and it was like he could feel every fiber of his being humming with power. It felt incredible, but it was quickly becoming too much and although Harry could tell through the awareness of the magic coursing through his system that it was gently cradling the life within him and wouldn't dare harm it, he was still worried about what might happen around him if he didn't find a way to expel the magic soon and bring himself back down to more manageable levels.
"Tom?" Harry's voice was high and tight in his throat as he panted through the swelling magic. Tom turned away from the display outside of the ship and his look of enthrallment quickly transformed into one of concern.
"What's wrong?" He went to grab Harry's arm but the younger man pulled away at the last second. He had to check something first.
"Wait! What you did earlier with the tidal wave, you're powerful, right?" He blurted out distractedly, his urgency rising with each passing moment.
"I-I mean, yes. I've always been rather gifted-"
"And you used up quite a bit of magic, correct?" Harry cut in frantically. Tom, seeming to catch onto his desperation, nodded emphatically instead of another stuttering response.
Taking a chance on his gut feeling, Harry reached out and grabbed Tom's bare hand in his. Like a dam finally breaking, an explosion of excess magic poured down his arm, through their connected hands, and into Tom.
"Great Mother!" Tom exclaimed like a curse as his body was flooded with something that felt both warm, comforting, delicious and cold, invigorating, overwhelming. He felt all of the tiny hairs on his body standing on end and a waterfall of shivers shook his frame. Honestly, he could probably stay awake for the next month without feeling tired at all, or swim the rest of the way to the Island of the Damned without breaking a sweat!
Harry keened high and breathless in the back of his throat at the release of magic that had been building under his skin for days and his knees buckled under him. Thankfully, Tom had excellent reflexes and caught him in a flash. Harry felt himself being scooped up into strong, yet gentle arms as his eyes slid closed. He wasn't sure why the release of magic was whiting out his mind—he would certainly make sure not to let it build up so much in the future—but for now he could feel that his little hummingbird was safe in a cradle of magic inside him and Tom was holding him so carefully that he could slip away without much fuss.
Afterall, it's important for expecting wizards to get a full night's rest. . .