Hello! So this is the conclusion. It's longer than the others, but cutting it down would just be wrong.
I am not JKR. I wish I was, but sadly I am not.
He remembered all of it. The times they spent together, their history. Their school years, first as innocent wide-eyed children, then and awkward teens trying to belong. Memories of them all sitting row by row. Him fighting for the spot in the row next to her and her friends.
Oh. How cruel it had all been. The names he called her. Always taunting her with snarky remarks. Trying to get her to react or just slip up. Framing her or just getting her in detention was an other of his favourite pass times. He went down twice as had on her friends, making them take the fall for everything, and her taking it for them in return. He was dislusioned enough to hate her just because she was perfect in every way. Top grades, great friends, popular among everyone, never to harsh or demanding, bringing a kind and loving touch to every thing, and an air of school girl innocence topped off with plaid knee length skirts and mary-janes. Yet no matter how his attempts to make her life a living hell, he never managed to make her bleed. In the figurative form any way, there was that one time he tripped her in a lab and she cut herself with the scalpel she was holding.
At every confrontation she would just turn way with a pity filled smile grazing her lips. That had only enraged him every time and so he went after her like a serial killer. Shove, kick, tease, snark at, repeat it all over again the next day. Any information he could get he used against her. Until the pity faded completely and was repeated with hurt. Pure cold hateful hurt.
Well look at her now, he thought right righting himself. He ran his hand through his hair, flipping it out of his face before turning away from the window. What should he do he pondered as he stumbled his way to his kitchen.
He switched on the light and turning on the tap. Opening one of the cupboards over head he pulled out a glass and filled it. Cold water was definitely what he needed. He took a few sips before putting it down on the counter behind him/
How had he not noticed it was her? He should have known. She had wanted a human resources job, one where she could read and file and help people as much as she wanted. She had always been good at that. Oh god. How could he have let it get this far, now he was completely clueless on to what to do. If it was any one else, he would entre in small talk with them for about two weeks before even suggesting to go grab a coffee. Hun. This was very complicated indeed. After all he had attempted to make her life a living hell figuratively for six years. Wow the only remotely civil conversation they had ever shared as at graduation, and look how that had turned out. They were after all, sited beside each other and consumed quite a bit of alcohol. Plus it would be the last time they would ever see each other.
Groaning in frustration, he decided that this was ridicules. He didn't even know her anymore. Not that he had ever really known her, but that was beside the point. It had been over two decades; she had probably gotten over it by now. Then again it could still torment her in her sleep sever insecurities. Or he had a really big ego. He hadn't been that big of a deal in her life had he? If he apologized, expressing the regret he felt, would it even matter? Perhaps it would, perhaps it wouldn't, but she deserved that at least.
While that was settled, he thought as he patted down his pockets. He would go out tomorrow and tell her. Sure he might look like a creep or a stalker, but she would get that apology, even if it was nineteen years to late, under the street-lamp.
There it is! I handed this in as an assignment a while back, and my teacher said it was terribly depressing.
Review, please! Then I can improve!
Love,
The French Orchid