Disclaimer: Nothing's mine, so don't sue. Unbeta'd.
Summary: (This is a response to the Weekly Drabble Assignment on MNFFBB.) An indecision occurs when a certain werewolf doesn't know how to cope with new Wizarding standards. Hints of romance, but mainly a tiny character exploration. It's absolutely craptacular in its elegance.
Word Count: 410
He observed her reading the small black vial, cautiously fingering the peeling label as she did so. Her slender hands trembled and the whole of her emanated an indecisiveness and fear he vaguely remembered her wearing. Within her palms she held the ominous potion, its effects permanent in taking and disastrous in its aftershock. From the back of his mind, the phrase 'size is no indication of power' surfaced into his weary thoughts.
"Remus?" A hoarse voice broke his state of abstracted musings, and he looked up. "You're not okay with this, are you?"
A pit formed in his stomach as reality disillusioned him. The bile brewed venemously, biding its time at the back of his throat. He harshly swallowed, shuddering a breath in its wake. Tears brimmed his eyes, but he was not going to cry in front of her. He was supposed to be strong, a proverbial rock hardened against his insecurities. Currently though, he'd rather be lying in bed staring at his ceiling, rather than being in a Healer's office, making the worst decision of his life.
Casting his blurred vision to the floor, he responded truthfully, "I feel like I'm running away from the problem, like in some odd way I'm disrespecting myself by even contemplating this. Discarding all these years of pain and suffering and replacing it with falsity..."
A comforting hand rubbed his back, attempting to soothe his anxieties. It wasn't helping much, but it was nice knowing that someone respected his doubt and his reasons for not wanting to rid himself of the life he grew up knowing.
"You don't have to do this, you know. Whether you'd prefer falsity or continuing to endure the reason we're here, I'll support you." He felt her warm breath caress his face as she whispered softly to him.
"The Ministry's going about this the wrong way. Ridding the Wizarding World of werewolves isn't going to solve anything. This so-called cure is a trap. A trap to cause more anguish and suffering than anyone needs, than I need."
Hearing the door open, Remus and his girlfriend glanced to the entrance, seeing the Healer's back as he carefully closed the door behind him.
"Have you made your decision?" he asked, sounding somewhat hopeful. The fear was evident in his brown eyes.
Remus took the bottle from his girlfriend's hands and handed it to the Healer, who looked dumbstruck. "I'm not sure I should be drinking something that not even the Daily Prophet would release the ingredients to."