"But I was a fool, and everyone knows it," he corrected, shaking his head.
He picked up his cup of tea and lifted it to his nose, inhaling deeply. The aroma steadied him, as it often had. Sense was beginning to seep back into his conscious mind, but with it came thoughts of what had happened, and how he had reacted. Merlin, in the time since Ron's arrival, his emotions had gone up and down so often that it was beginning to make him queasy. He was torn between shutting away his memories to better deal with the situation, and actually talking about them.
Penelope deserved to be remembered, though. She was so beautiful, and full of life, and promise, and her mind had challenged him ever so often. She had deserved so much better than him, than what he had put her through.
She deserved so much better than to die such a needless death.
He took a long drink of his too hot tea, the burning distracting him from the ache inside.
"Did I ever tell you what the best part of being a prefect was?" he asked, seemingly out of the blue.