Warnings: READ Living in the Moment FIRST! This is a side story! Thanks. Other than that... Harvest Moon AU with HP characters, Same-Sex marriage, kinda fluffy, tying loose ends, it's finally overrrrr

Pairing: TMR/HP (Tom Marvolo Riddle/Harry James Potter)

Summary: Tricked into possessing a seemingly unfarmable plot of land, Tom Riddle is forced to make things work and build up his new life from scratch in Mineral Town. He expected eventual success, a lot of hard work, and several painstaking seasons of the "outsider" reputation... but no one ever mentioned falling in love with a god. ...and marrying one.

Disclaimer: ...Yeah... this is so not Harry Potter universe anyway LOL. Um, so the Harry Potter series - JK Rowling, and Harvest Moon series - Natsume gaming?

This is a SIDE STORY to Living in the Moment. If you have not read that, you will probaby NOT understand this.

Yes. Living in the Moment is that weird farm story written in drabble format.

Tom had never thought he would be standing here. Even when he was contemplating marriage, it hadn't really connected with the idea of the church and an actual ceremony. He had been so caught up with the anxiety that Harry might not agree, that it would be too soon, that when his lover had said yes, well… the whole process leading up to today had just been one surreal after another. But he was here now.

And as he stood at the altar, looking to the crowd, Tom supposed he could understand the charm and appeal of a small town. Everyone was here, of course—from the carpenter as his very close friend, and best man, to Bellatrix Black, soon to be Lestrange. Because it was winter, even Rodolphus was here, though he knew in the back of his mind that even if it was summer, the man would still find a reason to stop by for his wedding.

He had never thought much of his friendship with the townspeople. Logically he knew why it was important, why he wanted to have their favor, and why he maintained it so well, but it had never truly connected emotionally with him, and now that they were all here, looking, to his amazement, happy for him, well… it hit Tom harder than he thought it would, if he even wondered. It wasn't enough to bring a smile to his face—only Harry could make his lips move of their own accord so effortlessly—but his expression was one of calm serenity. This… this was nice. He enjoyed this. All of the people he knew on personal levels, and though he never thought them of great import, somehow their presence here still managed to mean something to him.

In the front row sat those closest to him and Harry. In particular, there was Lily Potter (and her date Severus Snape), Kingsley Shacklebolt (and his date, Nymphadora Tonks), the Malfoy family, and, most grudgingly of all, Albus Dumbledore. Though the old mayor still managed to piss Tom off on far too many levels, he had to give the coot some credit and, though he'd deny it until the day he died, some respect as well. Plus, Harry was fond of him. That would be his chosen excuse should anyone be a fool enough to ask.

The carpenter stood at his place on the right side of the altar, and Tom didn't have to look to know that he had a smug expression on his face. Out of everyone, he had given the most of his support and advice during all the years Tom had been in the town—with the exception of the Harvest God himself, but Harry didn't exactly count if the advice had been how to deal with him—and when Tom had just told him he would be his best man without any requesting or 'please' involved, the carpenter had thrown back his head and laughed, barking out how he'd have to drag his suit out of the very bottom of his closet. Tom was nice enough to give him a golden hardboiled egg afterwards though, the highest quality straight from his farm.

Anticipation thrilled through his veins. Tom wondered how Harry would be dressed, who would give him off—as he had been the one to propose, it had been the unspoken agreement that Harry would take the role of the bride in the ceremony. Honestly, it was a wonder why Dumbledore wasn't the one doing it, but Tom was thankful all the same for that small mercy. Between him and the carpenter, it was a wonder how the farmer was still at complete ease with their high levels of imperiousness for 'setting the happy couple up'.

He resisted scanning the crowd for the missing male. Tom would never lower himself to doing something so frivolous for such an absurd reason—he'd find out in a minute or two, he could wait!—and instead focused on anything else.

Remus Lupin, of course, stood at the altar as well, but doubtless if he was not the priest, he would also be sitting in the front row. Tom would at least give him some credit for his assistance a few years back. The days of the Harvest God's presence were still among his most treasured, though now in the present with Harry would always hold the closest place in his heart.

Suddenly, the church doors creaked open, and Tom's gaze flickered to them immediately. Who entered, however, was not Harry. In fact, whoever it was, Tom had never seen before—didn't even know his name. At the very least he looked sheepish, and the audience burst into murmuring whispers at the interruption—the farmer expected this to intimidate him, for he looked nervous of being here at all, and perhaps would turn around and close the door—but, contrary to belief, the man came in, steadied himself, and walked boldly up to the front row, where he took a seat at the very end.

Tom wanted to snap at him—the front row was the damned front row for a reason, and he didn't care if it wasn't filled as long as only the people he and Harry reserved to be up there were there—but then remembered that that particular seat was one belonging to his lover's choice, and it made him pause. Perhaps was this person the one Harry had invited from far away? The one who had caused him such anxiety?

He sure had guts to dare to be late, then…

The man kept to himself, and eventually the whispers subsided as it was clear he would not speak nor apologize for his tardiness. Out of the corner of his eye, Tom saw Lupin's brow crease, his eyes blinking in recognition and troubled surprise.

A minute or so passed, and then the double doors swung open again. This time it was different—the entrance was confident—washing away all thought of the mysterious guest as Harry, his lovely, lovely Harry, walked through the doors in familiar white robes. Tom swallowed. From beside him, the carpenter quietly and murmured just loud enough for only them to hear, "I thought it would be fitting, no? Just don't ask how I did it, because I won't tell you. And for holy Harvest Goddess' sake, don't look too love struck—your heart's going to leap out of your eyes!"

"Shut up," he hissed back under his breath, and then added as an afterthought, "thanks." They both knew it wasn't for the robes.

The entire procession passed quickly after that. Tom thought it all felt so surreal—finally happening, it's finally happening, oh my Goddess am I actually getting married to Harry, finally, really? He's not going to turn into stone again is he, oh my Goddess—and only snapped out of it when the guests began to mingle during the reception and they were able to greet their guests personally.

His gaze flickered down to check Harry's expression. What did he feel, Tom wondered. Certainly it wouldn't be as surreal to him—he didn't remember, after all, his time as the Harvest God… and though he knew it was for the best, knew he still loved Harry just the same and even though it did matter (how could all of their memories together not?), what was more important was the fact that they had this, another chance, one without obligation and responsibility and the connotation of star-crossed lovers.

Loving a god had been hard. Tom hadn't minded, but he had to admit that being with Harry now, this Harry now, felt easier, and as long as he was able to actually have him—as he did now—then he'd take him.

Finally, Tom realized Harry was actually looking at something—someone. Following the direction of the odd, hesitant stare of his lover, the farmer saw the strange guest that had entered late, and who had immediately sat in the front row. He was standing off to the side, leaning up against a wall and looked rather uncomfortable, though there was recognition in the man's eyes when he glanced at other guests. So he knew them, but perhaps didn't want to talk to them… maybe?

"Would you like to go and speak to him, Harry?" Tom asked.

"I… don't know. I sort of want to wait for him to come talk to me, but that might be asking for too much," answered Harry softly. "We didn't leave off on the best note. I'm surprised—pleasantly—that he came, but…"

"Scared?"

"…Yes."

The farmer felt his lover bury his face into the fabric of his shoulder. He didn't mind, of course, but anything that bothered Harry was worthy of note, and as such… Tom held back a frown. He didn't know if it was for the better or for the worse that he had changed into this way. This… busybody—but no, it was Harry, and Harry's business was his own, always had been, and so his interference, while perhaps odd in his opinion, should be natural and expected.

The man across the room looked up, letting his eyes meet Tom's. It was then that Tom knew.

"Let's get some fresh air," he said while still looking at the man, "it's far too crowded over here. They won't miss us if we step out for a bit."

The meeting was awkward, to say the least. As Harry and Tom stood separated from the crowd, a distance away not too suspicious but enough for privacy, the man nervously approached, shuffling forward like a guilty child. Tom made sure his expression was neutrally blank; who this man was, for sure, he wasn't certain—important enough to Harry, he supposed—but that wasn't enough to earn any degree past frigid politeness from him.

"…Harry," the man said, clearing his throat, "it's been awhile."

And despite it all, Harry smiled. "It has. This is my husband, Tom Riddle—ah, Tom, this is—"

"Regulus Black," the man cut in, meeting Tom's eyes for the second time that day. Contrary to his body language, his eyes were strong, black rough rocks with a softness that complimented his face. "The original owner of your farm, I suppose you could say. Harry was my ranch hand after I moved out."

Tom nodded, leaning forward slightly to shake Regulus' offered hand. The skin was callused, bare and rugged, the mark of a seasoned farmer. Tom's own hands were similar, but he could feel the superior experience that the man had in the way certain calluses were tougher than others.

"A pleasure," he said in return.

Regulus tried to smile. "Harry—I'm sorry, I got your letter, but well, you know I was never good with replies…"

"It's okay. I'm glad you were able to make it."

There was a pause. In the end, it was Regulus who broke it. "And… I also owe you an apology for back then. I knew you couldn't stay the second you told me you were leaving, but I made it difficult for both of us…"

"No," Harry shook his head, "I'm at fault too. You were—really, the days at your ranch were some of my best. I'd never think of living my childhood anywhere else. I should've been more understanding—you'd have been alone when I left, right?"

"Of sorts," Regulus smiled. "I still have Kreacher. Old hound is getting on in his days, but he's still got some bite in him."

"Yeah… You know, I—"Harry tried to finish, but he couldn't. The words were lost somewhere, hiding on his tongue, stuck in his throat, too nervous to make that last leap and form a coherent sentence. He floundered for a second, his old mentor waiting, himself caught in confusion at a fork in the road until Tom placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

"I'm just… really, really happy you could come today, Regulus," he said, grinning even as tears peeked at the edges of his eyes. "You don't know how much it means to me—really. Thank you."

Regulus swallowed and cleared his throat. "You're not half bad yourself, you know. Best hand I've had. And I… Well I wouldn't have missed this for the world. I'm proud of you, Harry—for finding this happiness of yours. You belong here, with Tom, I think… always have, always will. I'll not stand in the way."

Suddenly, Tom had an epiphany—that this man, this Regulus Black, he who had left, after the Great Storm… remembered. As if he were part of the few who did, and that perhaps his attachment to Harry wasn't simply because he had lived on his farm for many, many years, but rather…

Because he had known him, when he was the Harvest God, in another life. Known him, laughed with him, sweat for him, tilled the land endlessly to offer up the best of his crop, just to see that one precious, priceless grin—

"You've really outdone yourself! This is amazing, Tom! I always knew you had a green thumb!"

And Tom knew then that he and this man had something in common. They both would've been nothing without the Harvest God, and now when the Harvest God was gone and all that remained was Harry—that was where the similarities ended. Because Tom had him, would keep him, get to hold him in his arms for as long as life allowed, and he was content with that.

Regulus did not have any of what Tom now had, but still, the man seemed oddly satisfied with his life now. Perhaps this was his peace, to see Harry finally happy when his last memory of the Harvest God was one of pain and salty tears, grief and seemingly unending sorrow.

"Regulus, you'll visit sometime right? If you refuse to write, at least come visit! I'm sure there's someone 'round the old town who you can bring on as help, or maybe already have! Surely you could take at least a day off sometime…?"

The man barked out a laugh. "You know what, I don't think I could stay away even if I tried! You'd just drag me on back, wouldn't you? Sure, I'll drop by sometime, check up and see if you've been slacking—well, if your husband is alright with it."

Tom didn't even have to look to know what kind of expression Harry was giving him. Goddess Almighty have I grown soft, and still I cannot find it in me to regret it! How disgusting, honestly… "We'd love to have you," he said instead.

"Then I will," Regulus nodded. Suddenly, he looked down at his wristwatch and furrowed his eyebrows. "Ah, looks like I should be heading off… I left on a bit of short notice you see, and the temps won't be able to handle the farm on their own for too long…"

Harry laughed. "You were always terribly controlling. Alright, I'll see you sometime later then!"

They bid farewell, and Regulus turned to walk away. Harry and Tom both began to walk back toward the crowd, planning to sneak back unnoticed, and the carpenter caught their eye as they approached, winking mischievously.

"Oh, wait!" Regulus cried from behind, running to catch up with them. When they turned around to greet him again, he smiled apologetically. "I forgot… ha… something so important, can't believe I nearly missed it!"

"Huh?"

"Here Harry. You left this back at the ranch. It's important to you, isn't it? You didn't go a day without wearing it… When I found it on your bed, I just knew you'd left it behind in a hurry. And, well, I suppose this is my chance to return it. Take good care of it, alright?"

Wordlessly, Harry held his hand out, allowing Regulus to drop the item into his outstretched palm. When the warm stone met his bare skin, Harry gasped in surprise. Tom himself blinked in shock, furrowing his eyebrows and wondering if he was really seeing what he was seeing, because that was—

"Oh thank the Goddess! I've been looking for this everywhere! I completely freaked out when I couldn't find it on my first day here! Thanks Regulus! I'd thought I'd lost it!"

Gleefully, Harry beamed up at his old mentor before pinning the familiar lily broach to his chest, right where it had always been when he was the Harvest God. Tom felt his pulse rise as he found he couldn't take his eyes off of it. Only after Regulus had departed again and Harry was tugging at his sleeve to catch his attention did he return to his senses.

"Tom? Are you okay?"

"…Fine. I was just thinking that I've never seen a broach quite like that before."

Harry smiled, utterly clueless. "Yeah! It's beautiful, isn't it? I've had it ever since I could remember. It's weird… I can't seem to recall where I got it from, but I feel like someone important gave it to me. It's always warm, y'know? Like amber, even though it's clearly not. Whoever made it must have put in a lot of work! I'm so happy Regulus found it!"

His good mood was infectious as Tom felt his lips tilt into a smile as well. "It suits you."

Now more than ever, perhaps, because though the jewelry was made with the Harvest God in mind at the time, a symbol of power and beauty, Harry's vitality now made it shine. Tom remembered slaving away in the heated workshop of the blacksmith's shop, listening carefully to the instructions of both Rodolphus and Orion to ensure its creation. Every stroke, every cut, to the finest detail.

A white lily in full bloom, bordered by emerald leaves…

A representation of life.

Not even the Harvest God could be a better match for it than Harry.

In the mountains, amongst the clouds, in a sleepy valley nestled in the crook of a lake, there is a town. Mineral Town.

While the residents are no more spectacular than any other, with their own quirks, own faults, own miseries, I find there is a certain charm to the place. It is, in truth, truly mysterious, how such a small community could draw such extraordinary people… and tie them there, with a thin red thread.

There you will find a blacksmith, who once was world-renowned for his swords, now crafting tools.

There you will find an inn owner, who once won the title of best chef of the region three consecutive times.

There you will find a wine maker, who used to be mayor of a crowded city, but left that life when he fell in love with his beautiful wife.

There you will find a policeman, who used to be the Great Detective Mad-Eye Moody's partner.

And, as to our newest resident, you will find the most successful farmer I know. I didn't think he'd make it, to be honest with you—but miracles can happen! They have before, and they have again. While his personality can be ice cold, I do believe Mineral Town has warmed him some, eased his distrust with our simplicity. And as we give him this, he, in his stubborn, single-minded way, gives us back what we had been before.

Our faith. Our ideal. Our hope.

Our community.

He hasn't been the easiest lad to get along with, nor will he continue to be, I think, but I confess in having learned him well for the years he's joined us. He is a marvel, a gift upon our lands, to have done what he's done for us. He has righted our wrongs—to think, that an outsider would! Ah yes, I see myself in him only to a point, for he is certainly better than I for this town.

…Better than us, for our God.

In the mountains, amongst the clouds, in a sleepy valley nestled in the crook of a lake, there is a town. And in this town, at its very outskirts perhaps, there is a pond. The villagers here call it the "Harvest Pond." Why at first I didn't know—my only inkling was a religion, maybe, whispers of a deity that protects and nurtures.

But now I know. And this deity, this faith, has become part of me just like the people of this town have become part of me—part of who I am. We are connected, in this way, close as a family, closer still as friends with bonds lasting forever. And this deity who lives in the lake gives us this, links us all in some unspeakable way.

They call the woman who lives there the "Harvest Goddess."

I have never met her, but I feel her presence there in my heart. Her shield casts a warmth upon all of us, a promise we also seek to do our part in.

Yet, there is one other. One before her. One that cannot be found in any book, any legend, any myth, any memory. It is but the winds who know him now, whispering his name and title atop the mountains and through the trees. His name is sighed along the cascading waves, roared in the pounding of the waterfalls, laughed in the trickling of the streams.

And he is undoubtedly tied to our dear farmer!

He is the "Harvest God." And he is our secret, but that lad Tom's, yours', and mine. Why we guard his existence so jealously, it is hard to say, but we know in our hearts what it is. Who it is.

There is another young lad who lives among us now. He is just as part of Mineral Town as Mineral Town is a part of him. And we find, every day, that he personifies all our goals and fears, at the same time.

For once upon a time, there was a God who knew many things. Once upon a time, this God fell in love with a man and this man fell in love with a God. What trials wrestled in their hearts I do not dare to assume, but it is with this love that we were all born anew. And I cannot stand to forget. I cannot let the memory of their love be erased with their passing, if they do pass before I.

Because their story embodies the essence of something truly beautiful. What they've done, the words they've shared and the feelings that transcended dimensions… it all leads to one revelation. That when one lives in and for the essence of but a single moment, there exist no creature in the entire world that can dare take the beauty away from them.

Sometimes we must learn what it means, to live in the moment. Sometimes we must be… reminded. Sometimes someone must tell us, other times we must discover it all on our own. The lives we live only derive their meaning from ourselves, and how we interact with others, after all.

So perhaps this is why Harry Potter's secret is guarded so well, so carefully, even from the young lad himself.

Because if we are to teach him, to remind him, how to live in and for that moment, those moments, it shall be through the whimsicality of life, and not the weight.

Thank you,

For believing in them and following them,

Through thick and through thin,

Through laughter and tears,

The story of the Harvest God…

And, unforgettably, the love of the human that saved him.

Gellert Grindelwald.

Phew! Done for good now! I swear, no more! Haha.

Don't think I can say more than what our favorite carpenter has so kindly written :')

Thanks again for sticking with these two for so long!

Sincerely,

R.R.