James managed to suppress a smile, reckoning Harry didn't exactly need to know everything his mum didn't mind.
Lily liked to go out and have a good bit of fun, but staying out till hours wasn't exactly her cup of tea. Besides, she much preferred smaller pubs with ridiculous Irish bands to the pulsing throng of massive parties.
He gave something of a shrug as he mentioned, "There are certainly a wide array of ways to party. Anytime you want to bring her out, we'll take care of her."
Chivalry, in his mind, certainly translated to the modern age. He watched Harry for a moment as his son watched the sea. If James was starting to get a bit cold, or rather starting to notice how cold he was, he wasn't about to say or do much of anything about it. He liked this, kicking back with his son. He liked it a lot. It was the way he and his dad used to sit in their back yard in the summer evenings, his dad with his pipe and a drink, James with his cigarette and a butterbeer. When Harry spoke again it sort of snapped him out of his revere.
"Official Marauder," James corrected. If Harry hadn't been that same time yesterday, he certainly was one today. Taking a long drag, he mulled over what Harry had said, for a moment trying to sort out exactly what criterion Harry thought he was lacking. After all, it wasn't as though there was some sort of checklist. Or maybe there was, if Moony had- oh right. He barked out a laugh. Oh right, that.
"Well, it's hard," he grinned. "... but it's not that hard.
Harry stubbed out the cigarette on the wet sand and pulled his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them. He didn't want to admit he was getting cold either. "So, exactly /how/ hard is it?" he pondered... "And did you lot know what kind of animals you'd end up being, or did you just take a chance on being, oh, I dunno, a rat?" he smirked, feeling more able to joke about Peter after last night, feeling quite as though he'd undergone a right of passage last night into being a true Marauder. "Do I get to choose what I want to be then?" he asked curiously, lifting his glasses and rubbing his eyes.
For the first time, James laughed about anything to do with Peter, even if it was a bit short and harsh.
"Magical difficulty aside, it is bloody uncomfortable till you really get the hang of it," he replied with something of a rueful chuckle.
The shudder that passed through James had little to do with the cold. Merlin... the headaches- though those seemed to be unique to his habit of sprouting antlers.
"The magic of it, though, I mean, it's wandless stuff and if you don't really know what you're about... I mean, it's like transfiguring all your organs and everything, only the first time you don't really know what you're transfiguring into."
He ran a hand through his hair, wondering if he was explaining it very well at all. The magic behind was just so much layered understanding, and the whole thing was dependent on a bit of... intuitive magic for lack of a better word. However, it was far from impossible.
"Okay, you know the first time you cast a full blown patronus?" he asked, not waiting for an answer. "It just sort of forms out of your subconscious I think."
As far as his own form was concerned, he was able to see a bit of Lily's influence there, but even apart from her it was a manifestation of who he was. Though really, he reckoned he could rationalize that of nearly any form he might have taken. Really, the whole thing was as much about not thinking as anything else. Well- 'not thinking' in the midst of carefully structured preparations so you could just break things loose a bit but still have your thoughts follow the right path. That was the trouble, he reckoned, the letting go.