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EIGHTEEN WALKING A TIGHTROPE
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HARRY DOESN'T BELIEVE HER. She tried to convince him, really. Showing him every possible way and trying to get him to just take her word for it, but he doesn't believe her. He doesn't believe her. And Delia's not gonna lie — it sucks. It really, really sucks. After all they've been through together, (and by 'all' she means the first and second task) like... almost dying, twice? Of course, there's the small matter that they didn't actually almost die together. More like almost die because of the same circumstances at different times? But all that aside, she thinks — she thought — that he'd have more faith in her. Low and behold, he doesn't. The whole thing just completely... blows.
But it's not just Harry. Not really. She'd have to be completely daft to be this worked up over just a boy. And she's not. Because it's not just Harry. It's the fact that whenever something happens, (something she for once isn't lying about) no one believes her. No one believed her when she swore up, down, left, right — and on her parents grave that Dianne Johnson tried to get Delia kicked off the dance team ("Dianne's proven herself to be a very nice girl, she wouldn't do that!"), even though she was! And now Harry doesn't believe her about this. Even though Delia knows that some part of it has to be true.
And what's even worse is that even after he completely blew her off when she brought up the fact that Moody and Crouch might've known each other, is the fact that Delia still wants to prove to him that she's got a point. That she's right.
It's not necessarily unsurprising, but it's a little odd at most. Because, well — Delia's got something of a tendency. If someone doesn't believe her the first time, why should she try again? Their problem if they don't believe her. Their funeral. But yet — here she is. Rummaging through her room, tossing pillows and turning over furniture trying to find the damn picture.
She looks over at her trunk by the foot of her bed and jerks it open. Frantically throwing her items out of it and searching for the picture. She's barely got time to register Pansy walking into the dorm.
"Deils! I want to hear everything—"
Delia screams and she slams her trunk shut. She crouches down and starts to rummage through the scattered items on the floor. It has to be here. It has to.
Pansy frowns and she takes a step closer to Delia. "Delia! What the hell is going on! Is this about Harry? Did he do something? I swear—"
"Where is it!" Delia yells and she collapses onto the ground.
Hot tears start to swell up in her eyes and she looks around the room in a daze while trying to blink them back. Her breathing's heavy. Heavier than what her mum would like, that's for sure. And much heavier than she would approve of. Her face falls into her hands, and she starts to heave.
