"Don't remind me," James growled. Snape? Second in command of the bloody Order of the Phoenix? That was just offensive. Moody was all right, but Jamie? Oh, he liked Jamie, and the boy was competent obviously, but his namesake was a kid. How did he wind up with that kind of authority, over the heads of people with much more seniority? Why Jamie rather than Harry, for instance? Or one of his friends who'd been in the forefront of the last war? Hell, he still didn't understand why Dumbledore had relinquished the position in the first place.
Still, Jamie having that position didn't bother him anywhere near as much as Snape having it.
"Moody, yeah. No problem. Jamie... might be a bit odd." He gave Harry a rueful grin, knowing his son would understand what he meant. "Think I can deal with it, though. I know he knows his stuff." Even if James wasn't totally comfortable with the idea. He didn't really have any more seniority than Jamie when it came down to it, but he wouldn't have volunteered himself for the post either.
"Snape-" he went on, and then closed his mouth abruptly, his expression turning grim. It took him a few moments to gather his feelings on the subject and turn them into words that were more than just vulgarities. When he thought he was ready, he took a deep breath. "I know it's war. I know he's supposed to be 'on our side' now, and Dumbledore trusts him for some bloody reason. But I don't. I don't bloody trust him, and as long as I've known him we've never seen eye-to-eye on anything. If he ever tries to give me an order he's going to find that abnormally long nose of his shoved halfway up his arse."