[ While James is trying to read Remus' expression, Remus' expression is turning unreadable. By most people, anyway. His smile fades behind his fingers, and he turns his knuckles to rub lips like he's erasing it before he drops his hand, but it doesn't disappear entirely. His perfectly mild and pleasant face is too perfectly mild and pleasant, like he read about how to look mild and pleasant in a textbook and is copying the instructions to the letter, his only slip-up the visible tension in his jaw where he's gritting his teeth. It works well enough on strangers. It hasn't worked on his friends in a long time.
It doesn't last very long, anyway. When Sirius looks at him he twitches a nod in answer--not permission, which Sirius doesn't need, only support--and once the words are being laid out there's no reason to pretend it's all right. He shoves his hands into his trouser pockets and bows his shoulders inward like he's cold, somehow, despite the heat and oppressive humidity. It's his turn to try to read James, to try to remember to balance his belief that James Potter can handle anything short of a wandless fight against Voldemort with the fact that James Potter is presently a 16-year-old boy.
You're killed, Sirius says, and that's the part that matters. Not Peter, who--if he ever comes back, who'd better hope he's a 16-year-old boy, too, with fresh memories of Howlers and falling Slytherins. Any older, he's an adult and they'll kill him.
Remus doesn't have anything to add to that but a quick, tight smile, a rueful there you have it sort of eyebrow raise, and possibly the most understated thing he's ever said in his life: ]
no subject
It doesn't last very long, anyway. When Sirius looks at him he twitches a nod in answer--not permission, which Sirius doesn't need, only support--and once the words are being laid out there's no reason to pretend it's all right. He shoves his hands into his trouser pockets and bows his shoulders inward like he's cold, somehow, despite the heat and oppressive humidity. It's his turn to try to read James, to try to remember to balance his belief that James Potter can handle anything short of a wandless fight against Voldemort with the fact that James Potter is presently a 16-year-old boy.
You're killed, Sirius says, and that's the part that matters. Not Peter, who--if he ever comes back, who'd better hope he's a 16-year-old boy, too, with fresh memories of Howlers and falling Slytherins. Any older, he's an adult and they'll kill him.
Remus doesn't have anything to add to that but a quick, tight smile, a rueful there you have it sort of eyebrow raise, and possibly the most understated thing he's ever said in his life: ]
It's really good to see you, James.