A/N: This chapter's been written for a while. It's based on Back to December by Taylor Swift, which was the original inspiration for this fic. It's just so perfect! Review, pwetty pwease. :D

December

I stand in the cold, my flimsy jacket flying like wings behind me in the harsh, merciless wind. The snow is coming down hard now, in swirls that look pretty when they catch the light of the charmed flames outside Hagrid's hut. I envy the warmth of that welcoming little hut, but there is something I must do. I withdraw into the shade of the trees.

A figure suddenly emerges through the snow, the light from his wand not reaching more than a few inches in front of him.

'Lord, give me the strength to do this,' I whisper, but my words are lost to the darkness. As if there's someone good watching me. No, there's only that evil bastard piercing through my most treasured memories. Should Occlumency fail, I must protect him…

'Hey,' James says, leaning down to kiss my cheek. I let him, breathing in his fresh scent once more. He casts some spells around the area to keep the snow away and make sure that we are hidden. 'Merry Christmas.' He thrusts a sodden-looking bunch of roses into my hands. I laugh mirthlessly.

'James,' I say gently, looking deep into his brown eyes. He nods.

'I know.'

'It's not you, really.'

'I know that too.'

'I'm sorry.'

'No, you're not. Otherwise you'd let us get through this.'

'What?' I exclaim, shocked. Does he not understand what I'm doing? 'I'm not being selfish, if that's what you mean.' My eyes narrow. I've played this sequence so many times through my head since last month and James had never said that.

'Yes, you are! Look, just go, Laoise. I don't need you.'

I stalk past him arrogantly, hurt and angry and upset. I reach the boundary of the spells he cast and hear his voice, just as broken as I feel, echo through the darkness.

'Mudblood!'

I turn and give him a long, hard look. How dare he? I expect it from Slytherin bigots, not the boy I'm in love with. I had to end this; I can't have him hurt. But I guess now it doesn't matter.

I throw the horrible, blood-red roses onto the earth to die. I don't need him either.

I trudge through the snow, thinking over Quidditch practise and all the times I wound up crying because I thought nothing would ever go right way back in September. I remember how, in August, he passed his Muggle driving test and offered to take me for a drive. I'd watched him laugh as I'd sat in the passenger seat and clutched the handle of the car door in terror, a pillow strapped around my waist and a bike helmet on my head, checking that the old Ford Fiesta had airbags for when we crashed. I try to stop the tears from falling, but refuse to turn back and look at him. He's not worth it, he's not worth it, he's not worth it… He's just a boy…

I maintain my composure and steady pace until I reach the big, oak doors of the castle. I break into a run, tears streaming uncontrollably down my face. I don't bother with a disillusionment charm to conceal myself. I fly past Mrs Norris, too upset to even aim a kick at the cat and eventually reach the Fat Lady. I snap the password at the portrait and storm through the crowded common room. I'd forgotten that it's only early evening due to the darkness outside. I slam the door to my dormitory and find myself alone. I stand in the middle of the circular room, my breathing heavy. I see the pristine red and gold hangings. I see the gorgeous mahogany four-poster beds. I see girls' lilac bags and tea tree shampoo and perfume bottles.

'Diffindo!' I cry, flinging my wand all around me. I want to the room to break. 'Diffindo! Diffindo! Diffindo! Petrificus totalus!' I shriek as a Prefect walks into to enquire what the noise is. 'Diffindo!' I slide to the floor, curled up in a tight ball and rock back and forwards uncontrollably.

'I know… I just know… you're not gone, you can't be gone,' I whisper, over and over. 'No!' I cry, and fresh tears burst out. 'You c-can't be gone. How can he be gone? I don't understand. You can't be gone. You're not gone. You can't be.'

I repeat the words over and over, as the girls repair their things and their room. I repeat them well into the night, when everyone else is asleep. I haven't moved from my spot on the floor. I'm still repeating them when dawn breaks.

'James… James… James…'