James, who'd been napping with a box of pizza on his belly, waking up every so often to eat a slice and then dozing off again. When Remus got back, though, he slid the box onto the floor (there were only two half-eaten slices left in it anyway) and got up. He moved to stand next to Remus, running a hand awkwardly through his hair before punching Remus lightly in the shoulder.
It was a strange feeling to be torn between relief at Remus coming back okay and lingering anger at Remus for making James deliver him into the clutches of a murderous madman, and pissed at himself for going through with it when he knew how much danger Remus would be in. Plus, of course, there was indeed all the guilt at the mess they'd made, but James didn't hold Remus faultless in it either. None of it would've happened if he hadn't come up with the hairbrained idea to trade himself to Greyback for the kid, after all. Clearly Remus stood to lose more than any of them if the Order did indeed figure out just what it was they were all hiding, and if anything, that was where his guilt stemmed from. When they'd found out way back in second year, the three of him, him and Sirius and Pete, had sworn to Remus, and to each other, that they'd keep Remus' secret safe. Sirius had already broken that trust once. Though the situations were clearly different, James understood now what it felt like to have such an effect on another person's life.
"Mate, I'm sorry," James burst out, feeling kind of miserable. "I'm pretty sure Bones, at least, the prying little fucker, knows something is going on. I'm sure we got warded out of most of the conversations, but the way they were all going on..."
James just smashed his hand into his hair again, frustration evident in the gesture, and looked down for a moment. His jaw had a far more determined set to it as he looked back up again, though, and he added, "Whatever happens, it'll be fine."