Remus was beyond tired. It was bad enough showing up on the full moon, ending up in a cell with nothing to do but throw himself at the door and claw at himself until he bled. It was worse when he was thirty-two years in the future with no way to contact anyone and nobody who could really help him. And it was even worse when, in his own time, the full moon had only been six days ago, leaving him to deal with two full moons in one week. It had been a kind of torture he'd never known before. He'd never been particularly good at healing magic, because Madam Pomfrey always handled that, and he didn't have any of the healing potions he normally kept around at Hogwarts. In short, he'd added several new scars to his collection and he felt like he'd gone several rounds with an angry hippogriff. The doctor at that Torchwood place had taken care of the worse injuries, but he was still tired and sore even nine days later.
He would have liked nothing better than to sleep for a week, but he heard someone moving about and he guessed that meant he finally had a flatmate. Pulling himself out of bed with no small difficulty, he tugged on a pair of jeans and button up shirt, not up to anything he'd need to pull over his head, and padded barefoot into the main area. As soon as he did, he wished he'd stayed in bed.
"Snape," he greeted the other boy as politely as he could. He knew he looked like hell, felt like it too, and he wasn't in any mood to deal with the acerbic Slytherin.