I Remember You

Sequel to I See You

From the perspective of Penny Haywood

I remember you (F/N) (L/N). I remember your smile. I remember your brave heart and your kind soul. It's these things that drew me to you in the first place. I remember the first time I laid eyes on you. You were standing in the courtyard, the sun's light shining upon you and adding to your impressive stature. And I remember thinking to myself how amazing you looked. Like a real-life hero, sent to defend us from the wrath of Merula Snyde.

I remember the first time we spoke. It took me ages to work up the courage to talk to you. I wanted so desperately to be your friend, and I held you in such regard that the mere thought of meeting you made me nervous. But when we spoke, I remember how much kindness you held in your eyes. How gentle and welcoming your voice. And I remember thinking to myself again, this person who can so bravely stand up to Merula Snyde and who can so kindly treat others, even those they've never met, they are most definitely a hero.

I remember how thrilled I was to be counted amongst your friends. How much I valued the trust you placed in me by asking for my help in your search for the Cursed Vaults. I remember watching you, time and time again, overpower and outsmart every obstacle in your way and save the school from disaster. And with every new challenge that you overcame you became more and more of a hero. My hero.

I remember the first time I fell for you. It was in the middle of our third year. Fenrir Greyback had managed to infiltrate the castle's grounds, and it was you and I who stumbled upon him. I remember how you instinctively moved to hide my body with your own, how you told me to run, and I'm ashamed to say I did. Several minutes passed and I cursed myself for leaving you to face that danger alone. I ran back to help, but when I'd arrived you had already chased Greyback off. I remember seeing you, standing heroically in the light of the full moon watching the werewolves run. And I remember the butterflies I felt in my stomach. Butterflies I still feel whenever I look at you.

I never expected to feel this way. I never expected to fall for you. I remember trying to deny these feelings for so long. It was pointless really. Who else would I have fallen for? No one could ever compare to you, especially not after everything I'd seen. Fighting frozen knights and fearsome acromantula, werewolves and dark wizards and everything in between. After seeing all that, I know one thing for certain. You are a hero. My hero. And whenever I think of you, I can still remember the young eleven-year-old standing over Merula Snyde in our first months of school.

And maybe that's why I haven't come to visit you before now. Maybe that's why I've been so scared. Because that's how I want to remember you. As a hero. Always smiling even when faced with impossible odds. I want to remember you as the invincible champion I always saw you as. But seeing you now, like this, it's causing all my memories of you to come crashing down. It isn't right. You're supposed to win. You're always supposed to win, and to walk away smiling. But there is no smile on your face now. No triumphant grin. All that there is, is the uncertainty if you'll live to see tomorrow. And if you... if you do go, this isn't how I want to remember you. Bloodied and broken. I want to remember you as the hero you always were. The hero you always will be.

As I sit here next to you, I find myself once again remembering your touch. The butterflies that take flight when your shoulder would bump against mine in class, and the warmth of your arms every time we hugged, the moments always far too fleeting, leaving me desperate for more. I remember the Celestial Ball, your hands in mine, swinging our arms to the music with all the experience of newborn chimps. And we danced well into the night, long after our friends had left, dancing and laughing. Just the two of us. And I remember the last song of the evening. A slow song. I remember you placed your hands on my shoulders, slowly sliding them down my arms to my waist, holding me so delicately as if you were afraid I might break, afraid of crossing some invisible line. Always so proper, you are.

I find myself staring at your hand as I sit here. I remember all the times in the past when our hands have interlocked. Brief meetings of our fingers as we greet each other in the courtyard or clasped together in playful fashion as we walk through the corridors. I would be lying if I said I'd never thought about what it might feel like. To hold your hand and for it to mean something more. And lost in my fantasies, my hand finds yours. I'm surprised to feel how rough they are. These are not the hands I remember holding in the past. They're far too calloused. Too scarred. And more guilt settles in my chest as I think about all the things you've had to carry. All the things you've had to face. Alone.

Beatrice interrupts us not much later. And she screams at me, angry and accusing. I counter her with words I know are empty. My best defense against accusations I know to be true. And just as I'm running out of excuses, she retrieves a crumpled-up bit of parchment from the pocket of your robes and throws it at me. I look up at her in confusion, but she continues to glare at me, waiting with crossed arms.

It's a note. A letter addressed to me. And I immediately recognize the handwriting as your own. The more I read the more my shame I feel wash over me. And my eyes fill with tears as I read the last seven words.

I love you, Penny.

I love you.

All I can do is stare at the bottom of the page. Rereading those words. Words I've dreamt so long of hearing. And my heart sinks at the realization that I may never get to hear you say them aloud. Your final words to me, will they forever be imprisoned in ink? And through my tears and heartache, I remember. I remember my final words to you.

It was mid-November. Two months since we'd found Beatrice, the first victim of the next of the vaults' curses. I had been visiting her every day. I didn't know you had been too. Our paths crossed. I blamed you. I can remember it all.

"This is your fault."

"You're right. I... I'm sorry."

"'Sorry' doesn't mean anything. 'Sorry' doesn't save my sister!"

"I know it doesn't. But I promise you, Penny. I promise you, I will."

"You better keep that promise. You're going to keep that promise. You're going to save my sister, and until then. Until then, I never want to see you ever again. I hate you. Do you understand?"

"...I understand."

And that was that. I told you I never wanted to see you again. And I didn't. I didn't see or hear from you for seven months. But then, three weeks ago.

I remember hearing the knock on the door to the girls' dormitories. I remember hearing your voice calling out to me as your hand pressed against the wood that separated us, begging it to open.

"Penny." It said. "It's me. I know you don't want to see me, but... can we talk. Please?"

I said nothing.

"Please, Penny. Say... something. Tell me, tell me that you hate me. Tell me that you wish I were dead. Please. Just say something... anything. Just... let me hear your voice. Before I go."

I remember hearing the tears in your voice. The desperation to hear from a girl that doesn't deserve your love. And I remember what I did next. I locked the door. And I broke your heart.

"Okay. I understand. Goodbye, Penny."

If I could do it again, I never would have let you walk away. Not without telling you how sorry I am. Not without telling you all the things I've never been brave enough to tell you. Even then, I wanted to. Because the truth is, the truth is that even though I was angry with you, even though I blamed you for everything, I still missed you. I missed your warmth. I missed your strength. Strength I've come to rely on. And now it's my turn to be strong for you, and I can't.

I'm not strong like you are. I never have been. I wasn't strong enough to carry the burden of what happened with Scarlet. And I wasn't strong enough to admit to myself that what happened to Beatrice was my fault. So instead, I blamed you. Because it was easier that way. Because I knew that I could. Because I knew you did too. So I made you carry that with you all year, just because I wasn't strong enough to do it myself.

Carefully, I place your final words to me in the pocket closest to my heart, and I wrap my hands around yours, hoping, praying that you can hear me as I whisper apologies too late to mean anything. I know the Healers will be here later today, coming to take you to St. Mungos. And I can't let you go, not without telling you how much you mean to me.

I remember all the fantasies. I remember all the ways I pictured our first kiss. None of them were like this. None of them had you lying in the hospital wing on the brink of death. They were all filled with acts of bravery and heroism belonging to a knight. Confessions of undying love belonging to a poet. All the musings and daydreams of a schoolgirl and her silly little crush. But it's more than that now. More than a childhood crush. More than a silly fantasy. Because this is real. This is love. I know it is. And maybe it's that knowledge that finally gives me the courage to tell you how I feel. Or maybe it's the knowledge that this might be the last chance I have. Either way, I touch my lips to yours.

It's not romantic or passionate. It's nothing like I ever dreamt it would be. And still, it's better than anything I could have imagined, because despite the circumstances, it's real. And perhaps the reality of it has me caught up in my fantasizing again, because as I kiss you, I swear I feel you kissing me back. I swear I feel your hand holding my face. And when I pull back, I see you.

"Penny." You breathe. "I'm sorry."

And as suddenly as you've awoke, you slip back into unconsciousness.

Author's Note: Part III to come