Remus didn't /i it when Sirius stumbled back drunken, into the
dormitory. Hate was definitely the wrong word. Hell, without elements that
always got into the way like 'Sirius's wellbeing' and 'Being a mother,'
Remus might've enjoyed watching Sirius vocalize his thoughts whilst trying
his hardest (Which, is not all that hard, /i while
intoxicated) to remember the Gryffindor password, or the fat lady's scowls
and words so stragically chosen to point out exactly how his manner is
distasteful, or his waltz through the common room and up the stairs and
into his bed, which, from afar, resembles a newborn kitten (which, he might
add, are blind and pink) attempting the Flamenco. Unfortunately, that he
cannot, and thus he stays up, reading and rereading the text closest at
hand (and Remus is not the discriminating man; more than once has this
object of fascination been the nutrition facts of a chocolate frog) while
watching the clock and pacing mentally.
Remus was, as he is on many subjects, torn. He was above going to these parties, dances, keggers, /i they called them, on a multitude of levels, but, at the same time, he was sure that going couldn't be less enjoyable, even sober (Remus's body is a temple, mind you), than staying under the covers alone, listening to Peter's snores and calculating exactly how many pounds you would put on if you had eaten a thousand chocolate frogs. But, Remus is a male, and no matter how varying the personality, all boys are stubborn. Remus hid it better than others, but there's no denying the fact. He couldn't let Sirius have the last word, no matter the cirumstances.
So when Sirius staggers, stumbles, and Flamencos with heavy feet through the common room and up the stairs and into his bed with only a glance and a second's grin at Remus before he collapses into his bed, Remus is, as always, muchly self-justified in his actions, and with barely a subconcious thought that perhaps, Remus is a fool, he's able to dispose of his candy wrapper and of his tension, and he's able to fall asleep without much conflict.
Remus was, as he is on many subjects, torn. He was above going to these parties, dances, keggers, /i they called them, on a multitude of levels, but, at the same time, he was sure that going couldn't be less enjoyable, even sober (Remus's body is a temple, mind you), than staying under the covers alone, listening to Peter's snores and calculating exactly how many pounds you would put on if you had eaten a thousand chocolate frogs. But, Remus is a male, and no matter how varying the personality, all boys are stubborn. Remus hid it better than others, but there's no denying the fact. He couldn't let Sirius have the last word, no matter the cirumstances.
So when Sirius staggers, stumbles, and Flamencos with heavy feet through the common room and up the stairs and into his bed with only a glance and a second's grin at Remus before he collapses into his bed, Remus is, as always, muchly self-justified in his actions, and with barely a subconcious thought that perhaps, Remus is a fool, he's able to dispose of his candy wrapper and of his tension, and he's able to fall asleep without much conflict.