Who: Delilah and Henry
What: Henry crashes Delilah's pity party
Where: Delilah's flat
When: Now?




It didn’t take long for Delilah to realize that she had messed up. A few hours alone with nothing to do but think, and soon all she could think about was how selfish she had been. How she turned something that should be all about Matt and made it about her. After a few glasses of wine, she had a list of situations in which she had done the exact same thing. Pretending to be selfless, when really it was all about her gain. Then she wondered why her relationship failed.

But what could she do? What right did she have to wallow, knowing that Matt was out there somehow trying to figure out how to deal with the worst possible situation and there was nothing she could do to help him. She had an opportunity and she ruined it. Delilah couldn’t even see a way to go apologize, it would be--- he had specifically asked for time and space. Said that he needed to be alone. So that meant she was suppose to wait for him to come to her? Even though she had been wrong? What if he thought that she didn’t care? Or that she had nothing to apologize for?

In refusing to let herself completely wallow, she went to her duels, and went to practice (Ethan, luckily didn’t say much to her silent stewing and extra fervor in hexes) then she promptly came home and tried to figure out what to do next. How she was supposed to move forward. That usually included a glass of wine (or three) and ended with her falling asleep on the couch. (That stupid couch that she hated and loved and just was-- well she was currently on the hating stage and the cushions were thrown around the room), She had tried to owl Nora four times, but never seemed to manage it. She didn’t want to talk about this to anyone, mostly because she was too ashamed of her behavior. So she dueled, and came home and waited, because that is where she told Matt she would be. There was no way she was going to be selfish and a liar.

When there was a knock on the door, she nearly knocked over her wine and tripped trying to get to the door so fast. She hadn’t expected--- Delilah hadn’t heard from Matt since he left, she thought he would need much longer. She was half convinced she wouldn’t see him again until July. Her heart raced as she reached the door, pulling at the knob desperately. She had no idea what she would say. She needed to figure it out quick before---

“Oh. It’s you.” Delilah didn’t even bother to try to hide her disappointment in finding Henry at the door. Leaving the door open she turned away, this time carefully stepping over the stray couch cushion. Picking up her glass of wine she took a sip before turning to Henry. “Would you like a drink?”

“If I had a sickle for everytime a Gryffindor greeted me in that way…” Henry mused aloud. He remained in the doorway of Delilah’s flat, eyeing the mess it was in with only slightly contained confusion. For the past week or so, she had inexplicably been on time for all of her duels and practices, which was the first sign that something was wrong. When she arrived to said matches, however, her natural poise was off and she was making mistakes that only rookie duelers made. With this new sporting season sending his clients into unknown madness for reasons still unclear to Henry, he made the decision to attempt to figure out what was wrong with Delilah before she too disappeared off the face of the earth.

Henry took a tentative step into the flat, waving off her drink. He had not known Delilah to be a day-drinker, but she was obviously in some sort of state. He played with the cuffs of his cloak, looking unbothered by the disaster in her flat.

“No, I’m fine, thank you,” he said politely. Henry lifted his gaze to her, eyebrows high. “I am confused, however, about why it looks like a tornado has blown through your flat, and perhaps would like to question why you strongly smell of alcohol before eight o’clock in the evening.”

He crossed his arms. Henry already had a sneaking suspicion of what was going on with Delilah, as Phoebe Smethwyck had come to him with some not so hypothetical questions about how to deal with bloody (literally) quidditch players arriving on your doorstep.

Rolling her eyes, Delilah finished her current glass of wine before setting on a mission to find another bottle. Didn’t Henry think he was funny, coming in here with his jokes. It was well after---she paused to check her watch--- well after five, she had no more duels for the day, so why not have a drink. There were far worse things she could be doing and Henry didn't have to know when she started drinking.

Grabbing a bottle, she came to stand across the room from Henry, inspecting the mess. It wasn’t that bad. “I’m having an epiphany.” She said retrieving her empty glass, pouring herself more wine. “And this sort of epiphany requires alcohol.”

Moving carefully through her flat, she picked up the cushions and returned them to the couch so Henry could have a place to sit. By the time she was halfway through her glass (which was really only a few sips) Delilah had the room looking reasonable. “Have I missed a duel?” she asked settling into a corner of the couch. She hadn’t thought she did, but who knew at this point. She couldn’t think of any other reason for Henry to have cause to come check up on her. “Or is this just a random flat inspection?”

“Hm.”

Henry remained in the foyer, arms staying strictly crossed. He wasn’t sure if Delilah actually knew what an epiphany was, but he decided to play along with her game. He didn’t know her to be an excess drinker, and her current stormy state was definitely not natural. Delilah was someone who could find something positive about the worst of scenarios, a trait that Henry often found annoying, but he’d rather her see the world that way instead of the mess she seemed to be in.

He took a few steps around the couch, examining her carefully.

“No missed duels, amazingly,” Henry said. He’d been truly surprised about that fact. “What’s this epiphany you’re having? Is your wine drinking awakening some new dueling set skill?”

He’d wait to bring up Summerby, who had reportedly been stalking through his practices in Puddlemere in a rare state. You would have to be an idiot to not put the context clues together.

Delilah laughed bitterly downing her glass. “No. The wine makes me feel a little less miserable when I think about what a terribly selfish person I am.” She held up her hand holding off any rebuttal Henry may have had. She didn’t want to hear it. She couldn’t stand to even give him the chance to say something nice. “It’s true. Think about it, that ring I stole back from Thomas’ ex? Sure I said I did it because he deserved to have it back, really I just wanted him to pay attention to me. I cheated on Scott, I dated Rich for months even though I never cared like he did for me. I never listened to you when we dated.”

She avoided Henry’s gaze through her entire rant, refilling her glass. She opened and closed her mouth several times trying to figure out how to tell Henry what was going on, without actually telling him. It wasn’t any of his business, it wasn’t her story to share. “And then there was that damned Tattler article. And then---” She abandoned her glass on the table not even wanting to drink anymore. Thinking all of these things was one thing, telling them was another. Her chest constricted. Why couldn’t it have been Matt at the door? Covering her eyes with her hand, she tilted her face towards the ceiling.

“He’s going to realize this. Matt is going to realize that I am completely unable to not make every situation about me, and he’s not going to come back. And I can’t even go apologize, not when he specifically said--- I just---” She groaned gripping at her hair, because even now, even after all these realizations her mind kept rounding to whether or not he was going to come back. Her boyfriend was dealing with an actual life crisis and this is what she was doing. “I am incapable of being a supportive girlfriend. That, Henry, is my epiphany.”

“Oh, cry me a river, Spinnet!”

Henry looked down at her in disgust. That’s what she was wallowing about, her failed relationships? He’d assumed that her current state had to do with Summerby and that perhaps her feelings were a bit deeper for him than they had been for her last few flings, but to be drowning in her sorrows and wine about past relationship mistakes? That was ridiculous. He stood firmly at the opposite end of the couch, glowering down at her.

“And you don’t think any of the idiots you’ve dated made mistakes?” Henry asked, shrugging his shoulders as he looked back. “McCormack’s a nutter, Cadwallader was as as boring as watching paint dry the muggle way, Rich had too many feelings, and---us? We were fifteen, Delilah. Everyone’s selfish when they’re fifteen.”

He let out a breath. Henry knew he’d made plenty of mistakes with the women he dated. Heidi had been the only one to make it past the early rounds and if he were honest with himself they had been thrust forward in the relationship timeline because of Bran. He loved his son, of course, but his unplanned arrival into the world forced Henry to take things a bit more serious than he’d wanted to. And now look where he was. Henry shook his head, sitting on the arm of the couch.

“So instead of working on your supposed problem, you turn to wine to numb the pain and emotions, which, in essence, is selfish.” Henry did not have the time to rehabilitate yet another one of his clients, especially when this one was self-induced. Some things could not be helped, but this! “You’re not selfish, Delilah. You care way too much for your own good. You don’t think before you speak, or before you do things, and that’s what gets you in trouble. If you used your brain like you do while you duel, you wouldn’t get yourself into these ruts.”

Henry lifted his chin and looked away, “I didn’t come here to lecture, but you always seem to drag one out of me.”

Delilah pursed her lips as Henry spoke. He didn’t get it. She didn’t give him the full story so he didn’t understand. She stood from the couch, now angry that Henry seemed to be making light of what this was. Did he he think Matt was just another Rich, or another Scott? That soon this would just blow over and she would be fine again? “Life isn’t dueling, Henry! Relationships can’t be-- in a duel I have to decide in a split second what I’m going to do. I’m wrong, I get hit, lose. I lose, big deal, I make it up in the next duel. I do well at dueling because I don’t over think things. These ‘ruts’--- When I misread cues and act too quickly in life, I hurt the people I love. And that isn’t an easy fix. There isn’t a ‘well next time, I’ll know you weren’t trying to break up with me’.”

Delilah fumed snatching up her glass and the bottle storming off to her kitchen, slamming both into the sink. Henry thought she was throwing a temper tantrum worthy of yet another one of his stupid lectures. “His brother is not his brother. He is a fraud. Scamming Matt using his past.” Delilah finally said when she heard Henry follow her into the kitchen. She gripped the edge of the sink, her knuckles white, and stared at the wine drain down the sink. “All Matt wanted was to find his little brother, and when he did, I lied to him about how I felt about Caleb moving in, the entire time I was just jealous. I should have been happy for him and---” When she thought over everything had said and done over the last month, she felt ill.

Henry was right though, but she had known before he had said it that this wasn't the best course of action. But she didn't know what to do, she couldn't think of a scenario that worked. “It hurts, it physically hurts that I can’t do anything. His life is falling apart and I put what I wanted first. This was over a week ago. And I know I should apologize, but he asked to be alone. I already pushed that once so---” She threw her hands up. Delilah didn’t know what to do. All she wanted was to be there for Matt, and she didn’t know how to do that. Not now. She sighed greatly, giving up.

“Why are you here then? If not to lecture me and once more point out how I am doing things wrong?”

He couldn’t help his look of surprise as Delilah revealed what had happened to Summerby. So it wasn’t merely a breakup that had both of them in a state. Henry wished he could discreetly owl Phoebe to tell her to put Summerby on suicide watch, but he instead remained leaning on the frame of kitchen’s entrance. He shook his head; that was madness.

“Being nice to avoid hurting someone’s feelings isn’t a sin, Delilah,” Henry said with a shake of his head. If his clients knew how often he lied to them for the greater good, he’d probably have been hanged by now, or worse, fired. “You weren’t hiding this asshole’s secret, you didn’t know he was a conman.”

His arms tightened around him as he thought. Henry didn’t know what he’d do if he found out he’d been tricked in such a manner. Probably try to kill the person who had done the conning, and that made him want to owl Phoebe even faster. His eyes darted around her kitchen for the owl post, but the whole flat was a mess.

“Stop pitying yourself,” Henry said, a bit more snappishly than he meant it as he continued to search around her flat with his eyes. “Everyone gets jealous, that doesn’t make you a terrible person. If he’s making you feel that way then maybe he’s the selfish and shitty one.”

When he couldn’t find the post from his position, Henry pushed off the wall and idly made his way around to the nearest window. Her question rang in his ears and he let out a breath as he searched, hands drifting over her furniture. “I’m here because I noticed something was wrong and was concerned. Next time I’ll let you drown in your wine, if you like.”

She wrinkled her nose as Henry snapped at her again. Folding her arms across her chest she turned to defend Matt. What did Henry know of the situation other than what she told him? Not that she was determined to be the in the wrong for everything, it wasn’t exactly fair for him to turn everything around taking the blame off her. He was just as bad as Charlie was sometimes. She wondered what he really thought of Matt, and if they broke up he’d just tack some flaw onto his name as proof that they weren’t meant to be anyways. No one seemed to be able to point out these reasons while she was currently in a relationship.

“Hey! That’s not---” Her argument died on her lips though as he continued. Watching him roam around her room not even caring that she was snooping around her stuff. She had specifically went to all her duels, on time just so Henry wouldn’t notice. Sure she wasn’t doing well, but that wasn’t--- she had been distracted before. Sure he infuriated her, but it really wasn’t part of his job to make sure that she didn’t drown herself in wine as long she was showing up.

“I---well--no.” She really didn’t know what to say. Henry really was able to pull her back from a crisis quicker than anyone else. She hated him most times, but he never said anything he didn’t believe, at least not that she knew of. “You wouldn’t do that even if I wanted you to.” She said with a pout unable to admit that she simply appreciated it.

“Yes, well,” Henry said, giving up his search. He turned to Delilah and smiled lightly. Henry didn’t have many people that he could call a friend in his life, so keeping the ones he did consider close in the right state of mind was a priority. Being Delilah’s agent, it made it easier for him to intervene in her life when he believed she was making poor choices. “You’ve become a bit of a bad habit.”

His shoulders dropped, feeling that perhaps he’d succeeded in keeping her from drinking for the rest of the evening and not having to depend on it tomorrow. Maybe he would schedule her in for an appearance that the dueling academy in Cardiff, she could use something to distract herself. But first, he needed to get word to Phoebe about the potential homicidal quidditch player she may have on her hands.

“I have to get going, Bran’s with a nanny that leaves the place smelling like old yogurt.” Henry pulled a face at the thought, knowing he would have to bathe his son again when he returned. He pointed a stiff finger at Delilah as he made his way to the door, “Don’t be too hard on yourself; you’re not perfect, but neither is he.”

Delilah allowed herself a bit of a smile, Henry’s wording amusing her. As long as it was a bad habit he wasn’t planning on dropping, she felt oddly pleased with the role.

“Oh, you’re leaving already?” She asked smile fading as quickly as it had appeared. Henry had just gotten here. Sure, he probably accomplished what he had come to do, but--- She thought briefly about asking him to stay. Only because she had spent the last week and a half by herself, and now that she had someone in her flat, she didn’t quite like the idea returning to solitude. “I---well, okay.” Delilah could always owl Nora. Or even perhaps attempt a letter to Matt. Opening the door for him, she nodded along with his words. Henry, right once again. Neither of them were perfect, but they fit well together. It was the little things, like how happy it made her when she got Matt to smile. She couldn’t remember the last time she had wanted so badly for a relationship to work out.

Well, she could but---

“Thank you,” she said rocking on her heels, shaking the idle thought from her head. She wasn’t sure when the last time she thanked him was, but Delilah did know she didn’t say it often enough. She watched for a moment, before giving him a smile. “For coming by. You always seem to know the right things to say. Perhaps, you deserve a raise.”