Velleity: volition in its weakest form.
August 21, 1997
Remus wound the word through his fingers and filled his lungs with it, let it drip from his lips and stretch from ear to ear. Vell-e-ity. Velleity is man's greatest vice. Rothum had said it last night, and the word had stuck to Remus's every thought since then. It was him, he thought, in a nutshell.
He wanted to go home. This dusty, tumble-down house full of people like him – werewolves, outcasts, cowards, whatever they were called – was not where he wanted to be. All he had to do was throw his meager possessions into a bag, walk thirty feet out the front door, and turn on the spot, and he would be back at Ted and Andromeda's gate. He wanted that more than anything, but the thought of the greeting he would receive trampled what little will he had left after the terror of what carrying his child might do to his wife.
Harry had been right. For all the truth might , he'd been right. Remus was a coward, and he always had been. Hadn't it always been like this?
He had wanted to be a part of Harry's life, craved the echoes of Lily and James he would find in their son like a drug, but what had he done about it? He did not have the excuse of death or bars to keep him away, yet he had never even sent a birthday card. He was sure, now, that the sting of that abandonment had reverberated through Harry's accusations three weeks ago and that he had had it a long time coming.
Remus had wanted to see Sirius in Azkaban, to look into his face just once and make him describe every detail of the moment he had decided to condemn James and Lily and the baby to death. But there was always a reason not to go. He had thought about offering himself as Secret Keeper, but the chance to open his mouth had never seemed to come. He had known he should spill his guts to Dumbledore about James and Sirius and Peter being animagi, but always managed to convince himself it didn't matter. He had come close to letting loose and telling James and Sirius exactly what he thought of the way they treated everyone else, but had always swallowed the words at the last minute.
There were girls before Tonks he could have gotten to know better, letters he could have written petitioning the legal discrimination that made his blood boil, old friends he could have stayed in touch with. But he'd let his own fears and doubts fester into gruesome certainties that drenched any volition he might have had.
Well, enough was enough.
A/N: Remus is a fascinating character to me. Probably one of the most fascinating because of his unique situation, his reserved character that begs being read into, and the nest-to-nothing we know about his life outside of Harry and his father. Anyway, I know this was slightly more drabble-y than I like, but it was an interesting dissection that I needed. Hope you enjoyed it anyway! And for all of you who still faithfully keep up with my stuff, I can't beghin to tell you how grateful I am.