Re: log, Hogsmeade: Victoire W/Sirius B/some James P & Teddy R
Honestly, these were the Marauders. They were well-liked around school in general, with enough of a reputation that they were all fairly certain many would hear of their feats for years to come. But whatever else you might have called them, they were not simple. They certainly grasped. They just didn't react as someone such as French Weasley might have expected. After all, they weren't the ones who'd suffered a loss, were they? Where they were from, the world darkened, but the four of them were alive, unmarried, and childless. How were they meant to react to news of children's children, of their own deaths and the misfortune of those they left behind, when to them it wasn't real?—James didn't often do intentional cruelty. He tended to try to make things as light as possible, with the belief that it would be easier for everyone else.
James shifted uneasily, the first and only indicator of his uncertainty. French Weasley prepared a soft landing from Remus' son, so that was fine. He extended his arm, elbow lifting from Remus' shoulder, to wrap around his friend's shoulder in what could only be interpreted as a protective manner, an attempt to shield Remus from French Weasley's particular brand of scorn. Sirius and he could take care of themselves, but no one razzed on their mate.
"Leave off," he said to her, shortly, irritated by her 'sore spot' business. It wasn't their fault. "We didn't ask to be killed, did we?"
He too tried to remember another Tonks outside of Ted, as surely Ted wasn't Remus' child's mother. He had Andromeda after all. He shot Sirius a look, the sort exchanged during classes countless times: not here.
"Don't go yelling. This isn't the place for this conversation." Of the pair of them, himself and Sirius, James often was the more pragmatic. He shook his head and began to disentangle from Remus to stand. "We should go to the Shack. Somewhere quiet. Without teapots."