Re: log, Hogsmeade: Victoire W/Sirius B/some James P & Teddy R
The boy with the hair started changing colors and James watched with open fascination. He actually hadn't been intending insult with anything he said. He didn't understand the depth of Muggle religion and the man with the palms and the cross was more or less a few pages in the old Muggle Studies textbook. He was just trying to smooth over the rising tensions, which, unsurprisingly, he failed to do by calling Teddy Lupin's so-called father a virgin. Was that rude? It wasn't rude. It was fact.
The bits about French Weasley's hair and being younger were clipped, and James, as he fixed the wings of his collar, paid them only half a mind. Quite obviously, something strange was afoot. He, however, didn't suspect a prank. It was far too elaborate, and the only people who did sophisticated and elaborate pranks around here were the Marauders.—With the toss of the napkin, James looked sideways at his mate. He took the thing up in his hands and folded it quickly with the ease of pureblood practice. (His family hadn't had a House Elf.)
Maybe folding the napkin would calm everyone down. One could hope. The girl's face went up in well-known Weasley shame-flame (as James called it), and the boy sighed. He adjusted his glasses.
"Remus isn't dead, you pair of romantically entangled dolts. You spoke with him same as us. Don't you think it's time to accept the facts here, French Weasley?—Teddy? Can I call you Ted? And by the way, your hair is rather fantastic.—We're clearly not in 1978, because I'm noticing a lack of rakishly shaggy hair, and the date there says it's 22 years later. Can we all stop pointing fingers and red faces at each other?" James paused and huffed with a crooked, absolutely infuriating smile. "You claim my eventual son named a son Albus Severus, and, to be quite honest, that is what I'm struggling with here.—Sirius, tell me my own kin wouldn't betray me in such a way."