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D. (heir) wrote in rooms,

Re: Log: James P/Sirius B
[Warm water frothed in bubbles slid down the narrow plane of James' chest as he stood, tall, lanky, with an athletic slight. He watched Sirius closely from behind water-besotted frames, his wand not being handy enough to charm them as he did when it rained. He didn't disagree about adult supervision, though they were all technically of age.—He wondered perhaps if that was what French Weasley and Remus Junior didn't quite grasp—the Marauders, whatever had been written of them in history, infamy or pride, were yet boys. They were the children of war as much as any, though their climate was entirely different than those of following generations. Their parents were cracked by Grindelwald, frightened or combative, with tensions ever rising in the wizarding community along bloodlines when the German wizard fell to Dumbledore. And they themselves were raised in a world dark, tainted by the rise of a once-man bent on Power and the vanquishment of all who opposed him. They were fighters, men and woman yet boys and girls, who would, in time, lay down their lives as so many of their relatives had. If there was one thing to cling to, within the safety of Hogwarts' beating heart, it was one's youth, a sense of impermanence, of a world threaded with some gold on its tapestry of black.

The Marauders were boys, they were not men. Not here, not yet.

James thought of his mother as he laid back in the water to float. He kicked idly as he stared up at the vault of the ceiling.] Has Remus spoken with Teddy?