James slumped down on Remus' other side, stretching out his legs on the pitch. The cold of the earth seeped up through his clothes, and he propped himself up on one elbow to grin wonkily across at Sirius as the other man flopped back on the grass. "Soppy git."
"Sorry Pads," he added, smile fading. "They're a weird bunch, this future lot. Even Harry, you should have heard him the other day. They hear all this stuff and assume they know how it all is."
He tried not to let it get to him, the stuff he'd been told about Pete and all the rest. It hurt enough as it was without sticking a finger in the wound, no matter how well-meaning. James plucked a few strands of grass from the pitch, twirling them animatedly between his fingers just for something to do. "Anyway," his tone became matter of fact and he flicked the grass away. "Doesn't matter. We know what's important."
At least, he was pretty sure they did. In any way that mattered, at any rate. James turned his attention back to Remus, eyeing him out of the corner of his eye. Even in the small amount of time they'd been talking, the evening sky had started to change colour. "How you feeling, Moony?"