Disclaimer: J.K Rowling owns quite a lot of it. The title is from I'm Coming Down, David Usher. There will undoubtedly be many things wrong or recognizable, in which case let me know, I'll pop it in. Once things get into my head they mix up and start turning into each other. It throws off the groove that I am attempting here to balance.

Oh, they refer to a cloud of awkward blue…in the cool of your soft little hands, and then mention lyrical evening sheets. That's from Charms, Philosopher Kings, the second greatest band in the history of great bands. They are old, hot and excellent.

Saturday

i thought you should know

that inside i've grown cold

and i fight every day to lose control

Monday.

She trudged down the hall behind him, ready for another speech, or blasting, or whatever he happened to be in the mood for. It wouldn't make any difference and they both knew it. He needed to let it out somehow, though, and this was as good a way as any. It was her fault.

He reached an empty classroom and opened the door. She stepped inside, sat on a desk and looked around bleakly. It was cold down here. She shivered, and he automatically took off his cloak. Or maybe he was getting ready to beat her up, she reflected. It might be a nice change.

"Look, Evans, I don't want to blame you for anything."

That was never a good start. When he shouted she could shout back, both of them got all their feelings out and they moved on. This way, she suppressed them and studied her swinging feet instead.

"He would have got into it. We both know that. We're rational, respectable individuals –"

She snorted. He paused, waited politely for her to go on, and continued when he was sure she wasn't about to. "I'm sure we can sort this –"

"Potter, do you not have anything better to do with your time?"

He stopped once more. She slapped him. "Stop being so polite! You hate me, you blame me, stop pulling your upper-class fascist snob act and get it into your head that we hate each other but that's okay because we have a mutual friend who loves us both so we don't need to be so damned civil."

He laughed at that. "Civil! All right. Let's not be civil. What are you going to say?"

"I'm going to say that you're a cold-blooded cunt with your head up your arse, and you need to spend less time lecturing me and more trying to get it out."

"My head, you mean."

"Yes."

"That sounded rather like civilized conversation to me. Shall I carry on?"

"You're starting again. Hit me or something, would you?"

He narrowed his eyes. "I'm trying to reach some kind of agreement with you, Evans. I don't want to watch my friends die."

"Neither do I."

"You don't want the cash flow to stop. I don't want them to die. There's a difference. Either way we should be able to come to some sort of –"

"You're seventeen, will you stop talking like you're forty?"

"I'm eighteen and I'm not."

"Wow, what a line. Do you know I could sue you for forcing an underage witch into an empty classroom with you?"

"It's not empty now that we're here, is it. Evans, please try to focus. I do have a class to get to and I'd like to eat first."

"Go ahead, I'm not complaining."

"You need money, yes?"

A nod. He nudged her along. "For…"

"School. Summer lodgings, food, clothing, supplies, secondary education."

"That's a lot of money."

"I'm making a lot."

"If I paid you more would you stop?"

She crossed her arms and looked away. "That's unethical."

"What you're doing is not only illegal and will put you in jail if you're caught, it is endangering the lives of everyone you come into contact with. I don't think you're in a position to talk ethics."

She changed ground fast. "I'm not ethical anyway, I'm practical."

"I'm offering you more than you're making now. It's practical to take it."

"Yes, but James, you're going to give it to me. This way I'm earning what I get. I can live with that."

"That sounds very impractical."

"I didn't say I was dead. I just said I wasn't ethical."

"Do dead people not have ethics? Good heavens. Who's running this place, anyway?"

"Theologically speaking, God. Actually, I have no fucking clue. Can we go to lunch?"

"We're out to lunch already, baby," he said with a smirk. "And we're going to finish."

She rubbed her cheek and said, "Do you think this floor would be comfortable to sleep on?"

"It's not. I was going to say something."

"Say it, then."

"I don't remember what." He rubbed his forehead with the back of his hand. "Will you just stop? He won't, you know he won't, he'll kill himself. Can you live with that?"

"When it comes to me or him, I don't even know him."

"So you'll let him die."

"This is the seventies, Potter. Human rights, pro-choice, you know the deal. I'm an activist."

"You're acting like you're bloody thick. Will you cut it out?"

"No."

"Fine then." He tightened his mouth and glared. "And I don't know what the hell I'm going to do about it, so stop worrying I'll think of something."

"Considering the number of pranks you've successfully pulled off, I'd have thought you could outwit a stupid girl."

"You're not stupid."

"Thank you."

"It wasn't a compliment."

"I didn't suppose it was."

"Do you want to come for lunch?"

"Right now? No, I have to close a deal." She bared her teeth at him. "Do you think that by lengthening the time you'll be more likely to convince me? I'm telling you, you can't compete with the kind of money I'm making."

"So that's what it is," he said, lounging against the wall and tilting his head back until his hair crushed against the stone. He put his hands into his pockets. "No one could possibly find the quid – that is what you deal in, is it not?"

"I'm a Mudblood, I live among them."

"Don't call yourself that. No one could possibly find the quid to equal the many, many foolish young 'ns that Sirius brings to your door."

"You sound rather bitter."

"He's my best friend, that doesn't mean he's overly intelligent."

"Yeah, well, he does his best."

"He could be doing better."

She didn't say anything. Eventually he inhaled very slowly, opened his eyes and straightened up. "Well, I should be going."

"It was lovely talking to you, Potter."

"Hm."

"Don't try anything too brainless."

"What makes you think I'd do that?"

"I don't know. Some deep inflection in your voice is whispering of it."

"It sounds rather sexy when you put it that way." He covered a yawn with his hand. "I'm not through with you, you know."

"So you've said."

"I'm saying it again. I won't let up."

"Have you tried the other end?"

"Sirius, you mean? Oh, he's gone. He knows what quitting means and he's not going to buy it."

"Would you care to?"

James raised an eyebrow. She lifted her shoulders in a shrug.

"I thought not. One can always try."

"One can always try," he agreed, nodding to her as he went out. She thought to herself as she followed that it hadn't been so bad that time. Once fair, twice foul, she reasoned. Such was life.