
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/573125.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Major_Character_Death, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Harry_Potter_-_J._K._Rowling
  Relationship:
      Harry_Potter/Tom_Riddle
  Character:
      Harry_Potter, Tom_Riddle
  Additional Tags:
      Alternate_Universe_-_High_School, deaf!Tom, Sexual_Content
  Stats:
      Published: 2012-11-25 Words: 4999
****** Running Up That Hill ******
by rightonthelimit
Summary
     When Harry witnesses a deaf boy named Tom getting harassed, he’s
     quick to stand up for him. At that moment he doesn’t know Tom is
     going to be the love of his life, and he doesn’t know what’s going on
     inside Tom’s mind. He never will.
A/N: Please do not repost, recreate or translate.
                             Running Up That Hill
 ‘You don't wanna hurt me, but see how deep that bullet lies. Unaware that I'm
         tearing you asunder, there's a thunder in our hearts, baby.'
Depending on how you look at it, strangers really are just friends we don’t
know yet.
Just think about it – when you first laid eyes on your current friends, did you
instantly know their names and their favorite colors, what they had in common
with you? The answer should be no, unless you’re a psychic, which Harry didn’t
really believe in anyway.  
With this in mind, Harry found it odd that people always had their judgment
ready about strangers and avoided them like the plague when strangers could
mean so much to you, and then was overwhelmed by the profound hypocrisy behind
that statement. Although he truly felt this way, he tended to try and distance
himself from others as much as possible too. What was the cause of that? Harry
was uncertain. He wasn’t a philosophical person yet he knew that it was because
of what society had implanted in his head. Like all those hipster Facebook
users said – society’s a bitch and life fucks you up the ass whenever it can.
Or perhaps they’re less crude when posting this on their Facebook wall,
whatever. Harry wasn’t sure. He only used the computer when he did his homework
or was in need for some porn when his fantasies didn’t suffice.
Normalcy is determined by the masses yet Harry wondered – who was it to decide
that strangers are always dangerous? Was it fear that made people instinctively
hate everything they couldn’t instantly grasp with their peanut sized brains in
an odd way of self-defense? The questions were dizzying and entirely confusing
and something a teenage boy shouldn’t be thinking of on a perfectly fine
Tuesday afternoon.
Harry did know one thing for sure.
The tall boy being pushed around by fellow members of Harry’s football team
didn’t deserve it, even if he was a stranger to Harry.
‘Hey! Knock it off!’ Harry yelled. The tall boy looked around in shock, his
body frigid, his books falling to the ground in a way that made Harry wince.
His fellow  team members had always been assholes, but it wasn’t until now that
Harry realized they were cruel too.
And just because this boy was another nameless stranger. A stranger who was
someone’s son, maybe someone’s brother, someone’s friend or boyfriend. The
unfairness of the situation struck Harry in the wrong way. Just because no one
around had ties with this boy, it didn’t make his emotions of any less value.
He was still a person.
Harry shoved Draco off the boy and sneered at him, standing defensively in
front of the stranger. ‘You asshole! What did he ever do to you?!’ Harry
demanded.
‘He’s a fucking freak, Potter, always walking around like he’s hot shit when
he’s just a handicapped retard!’ Draco exclaimed. Harry’s eyes widened and he
turned his head to look at the boy. The boy was staring intently at his face
but he wasn’t saying a thing, and Harry could see the little hearing aids in
his ears. The reason why Harry hadn’t seen this boy before was suddenly so
obvious that Harry felt flustered for not having come up with it. As class
president, Harry knew pretty much everyone who attended his school.
This boy most likely attended the other high school down the street, the one
for all hearing impaired children.
He kept staring into the boy’s discomforted blue eyes and it pulled at Harry’s
heartstrings. He looked angry, his fists shaking by his sides and his books
sprawled across the ground. No one deserved to feel like that.
Harry turned back to Draco again. ‘You leave him the hell alone, Malfoy. Don’t
think I don’t know about you and Pansy. What would your girlfriend think about
that?’
Draco’s eyes widened and Crabbe and Goyle looked at him with confused
expressions on their dumb faces. Draco sneered. ‘Whatever. Have fun with your
boyfriend, Potter.’
Draco shoved him in the shoulder and Harry stumbled backwards, right into the
deaf boy’s chest. He didn’t look at the boy, though. He just kept glaring at
Draco’s retreating form and Harry had never felt like quitting the football
team so badly before. It wasn’t like he needed the extra credit anyway.
He realized a small crowd had gathered around himself and the boy behind him
and he flushed, angrily dropping to his knees and gathering the books in his
arms.
Idiots.
Why did people always stare without doing a damn thing? Sometimes Harry
wondered if they would’ve been okay with watching a public murder too, and then
realized that humanity was savage and destructive. It was entirely unfair
people like this boy had to suffer because of it.
There was a leatherbound notebook lying on the ground too, and it had opened on
its first page. Property of Tom Marvolo Riddle, it read, and Harry’s fingers
lingered on it for a moment. It looked very expensive and he didn’t even know
people still made notebooks like this.
Tom. The deaf boy was named Tom Marvolo Riddle.
Harry smiled when Tom bent down and took his books from Harry’s hands, a
strange expression in his eyes. He looked confused and hurt, angry. Harry
didn’t blame him.
‘I’m sorry,’ he mumbled before he realized Tom couldn’t hear him. Tom’s eyes
were staring at his lips, though, and Harry kept blushing because of that. Much
to his surprise Tom replied in a thick voice, the words a bit uncertain and
hesitant.
‘It’s not your fault,’ Tom replied. He wrapped his arms around his books and
stood up again – Harry followed.
‘You… understand me? I thought you were deaf.’ Harry winced, hoping he hadn’t
insulted the boy. Tom shrugged.
‘I am, but I have learned to read lips and my parents got me speech therapy
when I was young. I can understand what you say if you don’t speak fast. I’m
sorry that boy called you my boyfriend, I didn’t know he knew I’m gay and I
hope it didn’t cause you any trouble.’ Tom was saying all these polite things
but it seemed to come out strained, like he was forcing himself to be calm. His
hands were shaking around his books and his frown didn’t seem to go away
either.
There was a certain undertone to Tom’s words that made it apparent there was
something physically wrong with him, but it wasn’t as obvious as Harry had
expected. He could understand Tom just fine even if he paused a bit too long
between every word.
Harry couldn’t explain why he was so intrigued by this boy. Instead, he simply
held out his hand.
‘I’m Harry,’ he said. Tom narrowed his eyes, a frown on his lips like he didn’t
understand.
‘Larry?’ he asked in an uncertain tone. Harry smiled and mimicked an H, not at
all offended. He was actually shocked by his own patience.
‘Harry,’ Harry repeated. Tom took Harry’s hand and Harry blinked – he had big
hands. His hand swallowed up Harry’s completely and his long fingers were warm
and soft. Harry could imagine Tom signing with those large hands of his and
then was surprised by the feeling of disappointment for not knowing sign
language too.
‘Harry,’ Tom parroted then, stressing the H. Harry nodded. ‘My name is Tom.’
‘Nice to meet you, Tom,’ Harry murmured. Tom smiled.
‘Nice to meet you too, Harry.’
Things changed drastically for the both of them after this day.
 
 
 
===============================================================================
The day after Harry met Tom, he got himself a book on how to learn sign
language and grew frustrated when he couldn’t instantly memorize the most
important signs.
He found out his new friend lived nearby his own house in a big manor on top of
the hill, and Harry liked walking Tom home before heading home himself. It
quickly became a daily routine and Harry wisely kept his mouth shut about being
gay as well. Tom didn’t need to know that quickly, Harry grew obsessed with
him.
Tom was funny and intelligent, and he was actually great at helping Harry with
his homework. Sometimes after a particular stressful day, Tom would write to
Harry instead of talking to him because talking took a lot of effort and
concentration which Tom sometimes didn’t have the patience for.
Harry didn’t mind. In fact, he cherished the notebooks Tom had written in,
often just flipping through and grinning at their stupid discussions about who
the better superhero was, which movie they should watch together and stories
about their days in general.
Harry liked the contrast between Tom’s handwriting and his own. He liked the
fact that Tom’s handwriting was elegant, just as his house and lifestyle was,
while Harry’s was messy and shouty.
Tom’s parents were rich but they didn’t pay much attention to Tom and sometimes
Harry wondered to himself if they tried to compensate for that by buying Tom
things that he didn’t need at all. Tom had merely shrugged when he had traded
his iPod for one of Harry’s books. He was deaf – what use could such a device
be to him anyway?
Sometimes Tom could be entirely bitter and quite quiet, and Harry knew that
those were the moments in which Tom was most vulnerable.
And Harry wondered to himself what it’d be like – to slide his glasses off,
become deviously attractive and reserved like Tom Riddle. Harry wondered what
it’d be like to resign himself to a life of loneliness and if he would notice
the difference when his life was already exceedingly dull without anyone around
(except for Tom) who cared enough to come talk to him.
 
In a way, loneliness was just as brutal as cancer. It ate away at a person
until they became a shell of the person they used to be. Harry wondered if Tom
still ached because of this, or if he simply grew numb and let himself believe
that he did not care anymore. This was frightening and disarming. Harry never
thought about Tom having feelings.
Maybe that’s the reason why Tom slept so much. Harry had noticed that Tom had
been falling asleep when they were doing homework more and more often, and he
was losing weight too.
When one is asleep, they slip into their own world. It’s a lot like dying, only
less permanent and painless. And as Harry stared at his ceiling with a
thoughtful look in his eyes, his mind full of Tom and the things he didn’t
manage to do today, he thought to himself – another day wasted. At least you’re
a champion in your dreams.
Harry feared what would happen to a person once they’d stop dreaming.

It didn't even occur to Harry that Tom's parents spoiled him because
they feared Tom.
 
 
 
===============================================================================
‘Are you going to Tom’s again?’ his mom asked Harry three weeks later. Harry
paused from where he’d been attempting to tame his hair, glancing at her
through their combined reflections on the mirror. He smiled.
‘Yeah, I am. That’s okay isn’t it?’
‘Fine.’ There was a certain tone to her voice that made Harry pause from where
he’d been trying to smooth down one of his messy strands, and he looked at her
again.
‘What is it?’ he asked. Lily shrugged and smoothed a crease on the back of
Harry’s shirt, her fingers gentle on his back. They didn’t send pleasant
tingles down his spine in the way Tom’s touch did.
‘Nothing, sweetheart. It’s just that you spend a lot of time with him…’ she
meaningfully trailed off, her eyebrows quirking up, and it wasn’t until Harry
caught up with her that he flushed and spun around.
‘Mom!’ he exclaimed, staring her in the eye with a mortified expression in her
eyes. Surely she didn’t mean that?! Lily just smiled and brushed her hand over
his shoulder, pressing a kiss against his cheek.
‘He’s a good boy, Harry. Just please don’t do anything to hurt his feelings,
from what you’ve told us he’s been through a lot.’
‘I’m supposed to be your son, you know,’ Harry mumbled. He couldn’t help but
feel strangely touched by this, though, because normally people would just pity
Tom or ridicule him for being deaf, but his mom genuinely cared about Tom's
feelings. He could feel his shoulders relax somewhat and thought to himself
that he’d always protect Tom even if Tom didn’t think he needed it. Harry
didn’t see Tom as a defenseless person, it was just that when you’re different,
people always found ways to turn that difference into a reason for violence.
‘Keep it up like this and he’ll be my son-in-law in a few years,’ Lily
instantly replied in a sing song voice. Harry gaped at her and she was out
before he could say anything in return. She might as well had punched him in
the stomach because the realization hit him so hard that it left him
breathless.
Tom being her son in law sounded amazing, and him being Harry’s boyfriend,
fiancé, husband sounded… It sounded beautiful.
As Harry stared into the reflection of his own wide eyes and felt the blood
rushing through his ears and his heart pounding in his chest, he came to
realize he wasn’t just obsessed with Tom and the way he was coping with things.
Harry was in love with Tom.
 
 
 
===============================================================================
After this, Harry avoided Tom for a few days until he managed to keep a
straight face when merely thinking about the fact that he was actually in love
with his best friend.
He sent Tom emails every day, stating that he was sick and he even feigned a
fever so that his mom would let him stay home from school. It wasn’t that hard
to do – he just pressed a cup of hot tea against his ear (and burnt himself but
whatever, it was worth it) right before his mom put a thermometer into it.
Being away from Tom didn’t help. It was like Harry’s every thought evolved
around him, like Tom had taken his mind and made it his own. Harry thought
about what Tom was like and the way he sometimes smiled when he thought Harry
wasn’t looking, and how sad life was for Tom.
Tom possessed a type of intelligence that people underestimated and it had
rendered him bitter. Harry understood that and in a way, Tom was vindicated to
be bitter too. Harry didn’t know what it was like to be trapped inside his mind
with no sound from outside to reach him. He didn’t know what it was like to be
vulnerable and strong at the same time, but he did know that Tom could love. It
wasn’t too late for him and if Tom’s world was inside his head then Harry would
have to worm his way into it. Tom wasn’t deaf, not to Harry. It was more
complicated than that.
Harry wrapped his arms around himself as he watched Tom from across the room.
It was the first time in days that he was in Tom’s room again, but it was okay.
Tom didn’t seem to be suspicious and Harry shamelessly studied the teen.
He was still gorgeous and there was still nothing wrong with him. He was still
more smart, attractive and kindhearted than anyone Harry had ever met. It was
like this was Tom’s body’s way of compensating for Tom’s initial perfection. It
was only truly visible for those willing to turn a deaf ear, no pun intended.
Tom looked up from his book and Harry smiled at him. Tom seemed to hesitate,
confused, before he slowly nodded to Harry to acknowledge him.
Harry paused and licked his lips, his brows furrowing as he tried to remember
the new word he had learned in sign language. Tom was still staring at Harry as
Harry signed only one word to him.
Beautiful.
He didn’t know how Tom would respond, didn’t even know if Tom was aware of the
fact that Harry was learning sign language just for him. He didn’t want to
freak Tom out and for a brief moment Harry panicked.
But then Tom smiled. He signed one word back.
Brave.
 
 
 
===============================================================================
For the longest time Harry wondered to himself what being brave meant.
Did it mean having a lack of fear or feeling fear but being willing to push
through regardless? Did it mean just not giving a fuck about what other people
thought and just soldiering on? Harry thought about what significance that word
may hold to Tom, and what the word meant to himself. He decided that it didn’t
matter.
Tom thought he was brave so that was what Harry was. He decided to stop being
afraid of voicing his own emotions before it would be too late and confessed to
Tom how he felt about him.
And just like that, they went from best friends to boyfriends.
Bravery, Harry found out after that, was a fickle thing. It could influence a
lot of things for the better or worse whereas beauty was timeless. He still was
uncertain of what was better but Harry figured that it didn’t matter either. He
was the happiest boy in the world right now and nothing could stop it.
He didn’t know that he was brave for simply acquainting himself with someone as
dangerous as Tom.
 
 
 
===============================================================================
It was the 76th day of being Tom’s boyfriend (not that Harry actually counted
the days, because that’d be weird and definitely not something he would do…
obviously) when Harry finally felt courageous enough to take it to the next
level. Tom was amazing to him – they still argued and they weren’t perfect, but
Harry felt complete when he was around Tom. Things were great.
They were sitting in Harry’s living room together, Harry’s parents still at
work and the tv only a vague background noise. There was a special news report
on, something about boys who went missing. Harry only had eyes for Tom.
‘How do you sign I love you?’ Harry asked, by now already used to talking a bit
calmer and articulating better. The way Tom stared at his mouth sometimes still
made him feel hot and achy, though, because Tom would sometimes randomly lean
forward while Harry was still talking to kiss him.  
A look of bewilderment overcame Tom before he slowly lifted his hands and
showed him. Harry grinned and lifted his hands as well.
I love you too, he signed, and he watched as Tom’s eyes grew comically wide
before he started laughing. On the tv, the faces of Draco, Crabbe and Goyle and
a phone number for those who may want to tip the police anonymously came on.
‘You little shit!’ Tom exclaimed with an amused tone in his voice. Harry was by
now used to the way Tom spoke. It was like he had an accent rather than that he
was incapable of hearing himself speak. Harry admired Tom for not only this but
the way he was coping with everyone’s ignorance as well. He really did love his
boyfriend and everything that Tom was and stood for. Harry may be brave, but
Tom was intelligent and strong, and that counted a lot more.
Harry shrugged and leaned forward to press a kiss against Tom’s lips.
You love me, Harry signed. Tom shrugged.
I signed it, so it must be true.
On the tv, Draco’s crying mother was being interviewed by a zealous reporter.
 
 
 
===============================================================================
For as much as Harry loved the innocence of their relationship, he was forced
to acknowledge that there were much darker parts of himself and Tom that he
loved to explore.
When he was making out with Tom and heard the noises Tom released when he
thought Harry didn’t hear (or maybe Tom wasn’t even aware of it?), when he felt
Tom’s hard cock rub along his own through the fabrics of their pants as they
rocked their hips together, Harry wanted nothing more but to go further.
Harry told himself to give it time, to try to fight it off but this was proving
to be more difficult than he had hoped it would be because Tom was sexy. He
could tell Tom’s desire for him was growing too with each passing day if the
way Tom gripped his ass and kissed him hungrily was any indication.
Harry wanted to give his virginity to Tom. He just wondered when would be the
right time, because he didn’t want his parents walking in on them and he wasn’t
sure if Tom’s parents were okay with Harry staying over. He didn’t really want
to bring it up, either.
Tom’s fingers were tracing circles on his thighs and Harry felt his cock twitch
in his pants, his back to Tom’s chest. Tom hummed and kissed the back of his
head. I want you to fuck me seemed too crude, and I want you inside of
me seemed just… weird. Harry didn’t know how to bring it up but he did know he
was ready.
So for now Harry just settled into Tom’s chest and sighed, bringing up Tom’s
hand and kissing all of his knuckles.
‘Harry?’ Tom asked softly. Harry paused before he turned around, looking Tom in
the eye. The way Tom said his name was precious because no one had ever said it
like Tom did – every word Tom said was thought through, meaningful. He added
profound depth to something as insignificant as Harry’s first name and it often
made Harry’s head spin.
There was an odd sort of expression in Tom’s eyes, the same he had worn when
Draco had been pushing him around and been calling him names. Harry’s brows
drew together and he sat up a bit straighter.
‘Yeah?’ he asked hesitantly, in a worried tone. Tom’s lips moved but there was
no sound and Tom kept frowning to himself the way he always did when he thought
Harry wasn’t aware. He stayed like that for a couple of heartbeats before he
sighed.
‘…Never mind,’ Tom finally said.
Harry blinked a bit, frowning. He didn’t like the way Tom was looking right now
but he didn’t want to push his boyfriend. He knew how angry Tom could get if
he’d do that.
Harry sighed as well and cupped Tom’s cheeks in his hands before kissing him.
He smiled against Tom’s lips as he brushed their noses together.
‘Love you,’ Harry mumbled even though Tom couldn’t read his lips like this. For
a moment it felt like Tom could hear properly when Tom mumbled a soft ‘I love
you’ as well. Inwardly, it made Harry happy to know that their minds were so
much alike.
One day, when he’d look back on this, he’d realize he’s been entirely
delusional to think this.
 
 
 
===============================================================================
There was not a single part of their bodies that wasn’t in contact with another
body part, their lips parted while they panted and kissed, their eyes solely
focused on each other, if they were open at all. Harry felt aglow – he felt
alive and well. Life was perfect.

Life was beautiful and worth it and every minute they spent apart, was a minute
wasted.

That was Harry’s philosophy, anyway. That was what he lived by and that was
what he firmly believed as he lied there on his bed, naked, making out with his
beautiful boyfriend who was still inside of him, pressing him down deeper into
the mountain of pillows and sheets they were lying on.

They needn’t say a thing to make it clear to one another how good this was. How
beautiful it was to be able to taste and touch and learn each other’s bodies
inside out without having a care in the world because they were still young and
they had all the time in the world. 

There was something deeply poetic about the look in Tom’s eyes. Maybe if Harry
had possessed the ability to eloquently describe things or maybe if he had
known fancier words, he would’ve found better ways to say that there was an odd
kind of beauty that resided in Tom’s blue eyes, something otherworldy and
unbelievably sexy in its own intimacy. Intimacy, Harry learned, was what they
both lived for. It was what helped them create this own little space in this
world in which they fit right in.

Harry ran his fingers over Tom’s bicep before pulling away, as if afraid the
touch was too bold, and hungrily kissed Tom’s lips, straining his neck up and
feeling Tom’s fingers wrapped around the back of it to support him. God knew
how long they’d been rolling around the sheets like this, smiling in each
other’s mouths and the silence occasionally broken by gasps and moans only
Harry could hear. It was good. It was good to not be fighting for once, it was
good to be a couple. They were at their best like this when they were not
occupied with school or family or other stupid little things that didn’t
matter.

Harry could feel Tom’s heart beating against his chest and he paused from where
he’d been pressing another kiss to Tom’s mouth – would he ever get enough of
kissing Tom, Harry wondered? – to sneak a glance between their bodies. There
was come splattered all over Harry’s stomach, some having rubbed off on Tom’s
skin. Somehow Harry had expected to actually see Tom’s heart no matter how
silly that thought was.

Tom liked Harry’s random musings most of the time. They amused him. Harry just
didn’t feel like speaking because it felt like words would be a betrayal of how
true and genuine this moment was. Words were insignificant when it came to
communicating with Tom Riddle. Words had been used over and over for centuries
and Harry was convinced that no one had ever felt the way Harry felt right now.
It just couldn’t be. This happiness was too good to be human.

Harry kind of felt like Superman.

Harry sighed, pressing his forehead against Tom’s and closing his eyes. There
was a strain in his arms from where he was keeping himself propped up over
Harry and Harry wanted to tell Tom that it was okay, that Tom could lie on top
of Harry completely without having to worry about crushing him. Harry just
didn’t know how to say that Tom’s weight on top of his own smaller body was
nice and comforting, without coming over creepy.

‘Hmm,’ Harry hummed happily, finally, incapable of keeping his mouth shut even
though Tom couldn’t hear. ‘That was good.’

Tom’s head had dropped into the crook of Harry’s neck by now and Tom paused
from pressing kisses against Harry’s skin, as if feeling the vibrations of
Harry’s voice startled him. Harry kissed Tom’s temple sweetly. He remembered
the day he ran into Tom, he remembered how thin and unhappy Tom had looked and
never had he been more grateful for sticking up for Tom the way he did now. Tom
had enriched his life in ways Harry had not even thought possible.
‘Tom,’ Harry whispered and Tom hummed as if he could hear, seeming to be
fascinated by Harry’s collarbones if the way he was tracing them was anything
to come by. The way Tom paid attention to Harry’s body, like it was a precious
jewel or a secret space he couldn’t wait to map out every time he visited it,
made Harry feel beautiful and justified in all the right ways.
Harry didn’t even feel worried about the fact that he had to go home later
tonight, alone, with that serial killer still walking the streets. He’s
slaughtered five people by now, and Draco had yet to be found.
Harry found it hard to believe such stories when he was surrounded with so much
goodness, all at once.
There was a hint of a smile tugging at Tom’s lips – Harry could feel the
corners of his mouth turn up before Tom sucked an undoubtedly impressive hickey
into his skin. Harry relaxed his spine and focused on how full he felt for a
moment. He never wanted Tom to pull out again and he vaguely wondered to
himself why they hadn’t done this before, why Harry had been so keen on
waiting. He pushed a bit at Tom’s chest to ensure Tom would understand that
Harry wanted to talk to him. Their eyes locked and Harry petted Tom’s hair for
a brief moment before he asked a question that he had been trying to ask for
months now, but never had gotten a reply to.
‘Tom why did you take all of your books from your locker that day?’
Tom paused again, but this time, he didn’t continue. This time, Tom pushed
himself up again on his elbows and stared at Harry. Harry blinked at him and
smiled, but it faded instantly when he noticed the look on Tom’s face. He
buried his face into Tom’s neck again and mumbled something that sounded a lot
like I was going to kill myself.
Harry’s eyes widened in shock. He didn’t know what to say at all and his
fingers halted from where they’d been buried in Tom’s hair. Tom kissed his
collarbone again and then nipped his way up to Harry’s  mouth, nuzzling their
noses together.
His boyfriend had been a suicidal stranger once and everyone had ignored him.
No one had noticed that Tom had suffered in silence because of this. No one had
cared enough, in fact, they had only added to his suffering. The thought of Tom
dying was terrifying to Harry all of a sudden, because he had already (mentally
anyway) built his life around Tom.
Essentially, Harry had nothing to worry about.
Tom didn’t say he was going to kill himself. He said he was going to kill
everyone else.
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