Title: Hogsmeade Winter
Author: Miss. Sly
Playlist: Serena Ryder - Weak In The Knees
Style: Oneshot
Type: Harry Potter
Category: Angst / Romance
Era: MWPP era
Main Character(s): James Potter
Minor Character(s): Lily Evans, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Alice Prewit
Word Count: 742
Date Written: 06/12/08

Would you mind if I pretended we were somewhere else,
doing something we wanted to
'Cause all this living makes me wanna do,
is die because I can't live with you
and you don't even care.

James hates Hogsmeade weekends. Even in winter. Especially in winter.

Winter - With the quaint little town blanketed in crisp white snow, the soft flakes gently drifting downwards on tender winds, lazily peppering ones hair. The young couples gently pressing together as they moved through the humble streets, each held spellbound by the others tender gaze. Their softly secretive smiles, their private passion, their blatant displays of love and tender emotion.

He hates those young lovers too.

He hates sitting slouched on the cozy benches in the Three Broomsticks, listening to Sirius brag about his latest conquest, listening to Remus laugh silently while admonishing his blatant disrespect for so and so's emotions, listening to Peter whisper his soft spoken opinions about the joys of love. He hates being the only one without the very thing winter in Hogsmeade seems to be teeming with.

Love.

James wasn't always so cynical when it came to winter. He used to look forward to the opportunity to ask the one girl he had truly fallen for to accompany him. But now, after nearly seven straight years of rejection, he doesn't see the point.

The little bell hanging over the door of the Three Broomsticks gave a high ringing chime, swiftly downed out by the laughter of the gaggle of teenage girls flowing through the door into the damp warmth of the pub.

From the corner of his eye, James caught sight of a flash of red.

He grimaced and took a swig of butterbeer, waging war on the growing numbness in his chest. Looking down the neck of the bottle, James watched the last dregs of his drink swirl at the bottom.

He didn't need to glance up to see the three pairs of sympathetic eyes that had come to rest on him.

Another thing James has come to hate is sympathy.

Calmly ignoring his companions, avoiding glancing around the dimly lit pub, James turned his gaze outside to the frozen streets.

And for a moment James let himself dream he was bundled up in a heavy winter cloak, a small body pressed against his own, holding hands outside in the freezing dark of the winter night - red hair tickling his nose.

And then he shook his head and the vision was gone. Suddenly he wished he had something stronger than butterbeer to drink.

"You still love her."

James swung his gaze back to the young man opposite him.

"Sirius. For Merlins sake, drop it."

Sirius looked James in the eye, his handsome features twisted into a mask of concern.

"You don't just stop loving someone overnight. You've liked Lily for how long? Since first year? You can't just give up on her now."

James closed his eyes and in a high pitched mocking falsetto murmured, "Back off Potter! Immature much Potter? I'd rather kiss the giant squid than you Potter! Circe, get a life Potter! You're such a prick! Just leave me alone Potter! I'd rather go to Hogsmeade with a group of Death Eaters than with you!" He let his voice drop back to its usual rich baritone. "What does it matter if I love her or not anymore? You've heard her plenty of times. I'm unwanted. I told you before and I'll tell you again. I give up on Evans."

One eye popped open.

A quick survey of his friends' features told him everything. Sirius' wide eyes and slightly unhinged jaw, Peter's cramped and pained expression, Remus' slightly twisted posture as if trying to face both James at his side and someone behind them.

In one fluid motion, James stood and swung his cloak over his shoulders. Without turning, he tossed a few gallions to Sirius with a quick, "I'm heading back."

Without looking her in the eyes - knowing she had heard every word he had said, James sidestepped the shocked Evans and nodded to her companion Alice. Four strides and he was back out into the bitter cold of Hogsmeade winter.

James will wipe his tears away, like he always does, before they get a chance to escape his eyes. He will grit his teeth as he walks past the young couples enraptured in eachother. He will shake the soft snow from his mane of messy hair, and he will kick the powdery snow in his path while cursing Hogsmeade for being so perfect and picturesque.

Because James Potter hates winter in Hogsmeade.

And he hates being alone even more.

Feedback welcome. Constructive criticism is love.

With love,

Sly