Archive of Our Own ^beta

“Happy Birthday,” Harry read out, glancing away from his current The Deathly Hallows: Remastered save in order to acknowledge Tom’s donation, “Lord_Voldemort, and thank you for the sub!”

The stream was quieter than usual, but there were still enough people watching that resorting to monetary means was the only way for Tom to get Harry’s attention. He was no longer the same small creator Tom had found all those years ago. He was no longer the Harry that would call out his username so joyously, thanking him for the game tips and persistent viewership without a ding signaling him to.

Still paused, off co-op mode and simply wandering around the expansive open-world map, Harry leaned back, gaze going distant. He hummed, barely audible, his microphone battling to pick it up. It was a contemplative sound.

“This is the seventh birthday of yours that we’ve celebrated.”

Harry had been awfully loose-lipped all night. He’d called off his New Years’ Eve stream this year a few days prior, unable to stay still, almost frantic with anticipation as he vaguely went on about a major life change, as he smiled that same smile he saved for the woman who had routinely hovered at the edge of his camera during his streams so often over the past couple years, offering brief company, paltry witticism, or sustenance. 

Tom had accepted it with only a flicker of rage, envisioning unpaid overtime, typing away on his work laptop to celebrate his thirty-first. He had set himself up for a long night in his study, only for his personal phone to buzz on his desk, breaking him from his fugue before he’d managed to tear himself away from useless thoughts, useless emotions.

The world Tom glimpsed outside of his study’s window was bright, the city alive and dancing, rejoicing for new beginnings, but it was not one that appealed.

Only here did.

It is, he typed, wondering if his response mattered.

Harry, when Tom had hit send, was back to staring at his second monitor, the one that contained the chat and all of the stream configurations. There were no moderators tonight. 

He barked out a laugh, a bitter thing, that provoked a swell of pride in Tom’s chest. He was so sincere with Tom, not like his manufactured facade for his other viewers, those uncanny skin-stretching smiles and uncomfortable glances whenever someone got too familiar.

“I think you’re my longest lasting relationship,” Harry hiccupped, eyes rolling in the back of his head briefly, as if overwhelmed by frustration, “Can you imagine that?”

Tom could.

Is that good or bad?

The self-deprecation seeped out of Harry’s face as he read Tom’s message, a more serious expression taking its place. Not stoic, but certainly not emotive. A stone-wall had appeared. Tom was used to it.

“I’m not sure,” Harry offered, averting his eyes.

Silence stretched until someone else donated, and like a switch, Harry was sitting back up in his gaming chair, unpausing, character readily returning to running around, on the look out for any secret quests the speed-runners had yet to pick up on; as if he had remembered what he was here for. 

Tom was sure. He was very sure.

Ginny Weasley wouldn't have been scared off so easily, wouldn't have been quivering in such jealousy, eyes wide and pupils pin-pricked like all the others, if it wasn't a good thing. If they weren't. 

Harry would come to understand, someday. Someday soon. 

Tom knew he would.