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The drizzle has been getting harder, though the change is so gradual that Tom does not realize it. It’s not hard enough to be called rain so he ignores the weather and focuses on the man in front of him instead. The umbrella charm from his wand is steady. The water droplets hitting the ground splashes around his Oxfords.
“I’ve finally managed to make you stay outdoors in the rain,” Harry Potter laughs. “Isn’t it nice?”
Tom smiles. “The rain, not so. But you are, so I suppose I can make exceptions.”
Harry laughs again, his cheeks slightly pink as he shakes his head. “Always such a sap. You know, people don’t believe that whenever I tell them that you are.”
“I hope that you didn’t tell it to my political opponents at the very least.”
“Of course not,” Harry scoffs. “Wouldn’t want to jeopardize your career, Minister Tom Riddle.” The chuckle that comes from Tom as a reply is warm, and Harry smiles at the sound. “Speaking of which, don’t you have a meeting soon?”
“I do,” Tom admits. “I can afford to be late to it. They will understand.”
“Oh my, dear Minister, abusing your authority to spend more time with your husband,” Harry says with a grin.
Tom shrugs. The rain is much harder now. He can actually feel the hem of his pants getting damp.
He supposes that they do have memories tied to the rain hence the love Harry has for it. He looks up at the dark sky, watches the water roll down the umbrella charm. “It was raining like this when we had our first kiss, do you remember?”
“Of course. You insisted on walking me home when we could have just Apparated.”
“I wanted to spend more time with you. I want to. Even now,” Tom says.
“I figured. That’s why I let you walk me home in the rain. Then you invited yourself onto my porch.”
“It was raining quite hard. I remember thunder. I didn’t want our kiss to be interrupted by a lightning strike.”
Harry laughs at that. “Admit it, it would’ve made for an amazing first kiss story though.”
Tom rolls his eyes but smiles anyway. Harry can be ridiculous sometimes but he thinks that’s why they balance each other out.
He remembers the first time his hand sinks into soft black hair, the first time his lips touch Harry’s, the first time Harry calls out his name softly in between the kisses. The wide smile from Harry in the kiss when Tom sighs Harry’s name back at him.
Tom has known since that first kiss that there will be nobody else. Just Harry and only Harry.
Every other kiss after that still feels the same as the first to Tom, tasting of home.
He vividly recalls the first time he and Harry made love. It was raining as well, the water pelting against the window. They didn’t talk, merely exchanging kisses on hot skin and touches that are tender. After, when they lay there together, the rain still falling from the heavens, Tom thinks that if he could stop time, he would.
He would stay in that moment forever, Harry tucked against his body, a smile on his face.
Tom remembers wanting to whisper his adorations to Harry, but he had feared that it would ruin the tranquil moment, so he had opted to leave kisses on Harry’s skin. Each time his lips rests against skin, he thinks about how much he loves Harry. He has never been one to be outspoken about what he is feeling, so Tom had hoped that his actions could convey it.
Harry has repeatedly told him that even though Tom doesn’t express his affections verbally, he knows the depth of it from the touches and devotion Tom has shown to him.
“I know how much you love me, Tom,” Harry always says, when Tom’s worries become apparent on his face. “And I love you too.”
Tom knows that. He sometimes wonders how he has managed to make Harry fall for him. Wonders what Harry sees in him. Wonders why he said yes when Tom asks Harry to marry him.
It had rained during their wedding day. Tom had been slightly miffed at the weather that day, but Harry had laughed instead. “It’s a blessing from Mother Magic, don’t you know?”
“What do you mean?”
“Rain on a wedding day means that the marriage will last forever,” Harry says, pressing a kiss to Tom’s cheek.
Tom gazes at Harry, smiling fondly. “Even without the rain, I can promise you forever.”
He remembers the wide grin from Harry, remembers how he sinks into Tom’s embrace. Remembers how Harry blushes and whispers against his ear that he can’t quite believe that they’re actually married now. Tom remembers how Harry does not stop smiling that day even as the rain continues on.
“What are you thinking about?”
Tom lifts his eyes from the ground and gazes into green, brilliant ones. He gives Harry a small smile. “You. I'm always thinking about you.”
“I know. That’s why I said yes when you proposed. You’re obsessed with me.”
“I am,” Tom says. “Always have been.”
Harry grins. “That makes the two of us then.”
The rain is heavier now and Tom definitely feels that his socks might be drenched. He ignores it. He wonders how long Harry wants to stay out in this rain.
As if hearing his thoughts, Harry steps closer, the fond smile he usually gives Tom in the morning after he wakes on his lips. “I'll stay out here longer, but you, dear husband, need to go back. Undersecretary Granger will start to panic if you don’t go back now.”
Tom’s feet do not move. There is only the sound of rain as Harry waits for Tom to say something. “Will you let me stay for a moment longer?” He asks quietly.
“Of course,” Harry beams. “I’ve missed you quite terribly.”
“And I, you,” Tom says, closing his eyes. “I love you, Harry. I want to kiss you. I want you in my arms.”
Seconds pass, but it could have been hours. There is no reply. As the silence stretches on, Tom reopens his eyes, gazes at the grave in front of him. He thinks he can hear Harry’s shocked laugh at his declaration, thinks that he can see Harry blush.
He vows that he can feel Harry’s lips against his, whispering back I love you too.
But it's not real. As vivid as his imagination is of how Harry will respond to him, they're not real.
He clings on to memories of Harry loving him instead of thinking of how Auror Weasley Apparated into his office, nearly splinching himself from Tom’s wards. He thinks of bright emerald eyes instead of pale lids. He thinks of the warm, sun kissed skin instead of the cold one.
He thinks of laughter and smiles from their wedding day instead of the quiet from the funeral.
Tom swears that he can feel Harry’s soft touch against his cheek. Tom hopes that he never forgets how it feels. His hand reaches up to hold Harry’s hand and finds water from the rain instead. He makes a promise to Harry that he will come back tomorrow. He did promise forever.
The rain lingers long after Tom leaves.