WHO: Ophelia and Ioan Llewellyn
WHAT: Sibling fiiight
WHEN: Wednesday evening
WHERE: Dumbledore's Office

Somehow she knew. When she was called up to Dumbledore's office, Ophelia knew why, and it had nothing to do with the warning letter that Grayson had sent her. It was almost as if she could feel her brother's anger pushing down on her, growing stronger the closer she got. Maybe she was a clairvoyant or something, huh... she had gotten her O.W.L. in Divination and all, so maybe--too bad it was too late to take the N.E.W.T. level class...

"Jelly slugs"

Ophelia found it funny that the ascent to the office felt oddly like a death march. Her brother had just misunderstood what Grayson had said, so once she explained everything, he should have had no reason to be angry, right? There was nothing wrong she had done, and nothing certainly to be afraid of... so why did she feel this horrible sense of uselessness and foreboding? Why couldn't she quite convince her shoulders to untense, or her left hand to stop twitching nervously? Why was she biting her bottom lip in anticipation as the large, wooden door clicked open to reveal Ioan and the headmaster engaged in a quiet conversation with one another?

It probably had something to do with the fiercely concerned way the former spun around and looked at her, and the rushed manner in which he rose from his chair, the tightness and relief she felt in his embrace. The strange and awkward amount of time he held her in that embrace before he finally, reluctantly retracted his arms so he was only with his hands on her shoulders.

"Clara." Ioan's voice almost seemed a sigh. His eyes, ocean blue and ever-expressive, shone with that same worry she had felt from him before and she couldn't help but wonder why he was acting this way. This did not seem any manner for him to be in if he was angry at her--and yet she still sensed that the anger from before was bubbling under the surface, barely controlled. There seemed hostility there, too and--Merlin, her brother had never been so confusing to her as he was at this point.

Despite her confusion, Ophelia smiled an oblivious smile, at the same time looking genuinely happy to see him--though, the last part was not faked. She was very pleased to see her brother, she just knew that he was only there because something was wrong. "Ioan, what brings you back to Hogwarts? Surely not just to see me."

He sent her a tight-lipped smile that seemed too full of regret to be normal (not that anything about him was normal at the moment) and slipped a strong arm around her shoulders, gently leading her towards the desk--the desk which Dumbledore seemed to have somehow vacated without being noticed--and to the chairs. "Sit down, Lia. We need to talk." Ophelia complied with his wishes, but kept on the same oblivious look, determined to continue seeming as if she had no idea what was going on. Really, she didn't yet, but it was becoming clearer that it probably did have to do with Grayson, as she had originally suspected.

"Is it really something so important that you had to come all the way out to Scotland to speak with me about it? I'm going to be home in just a couple weeks' time for wedding planning; could it have not wai--"

"Actually, that's what I came to--Clara, I've got to talk to you about your fiancée." There was a certain unmistakable hostility in his voice when he mentioned the man's title, and Ophelia couldn't help but frown. This was... well, she'd known he was angry, but to feel downright hostile towards the man seemed to be taking it a bit far. She had been getting along with Grayson, after all, and it wasn't as if Ioan had really ever talked to him for any extensive period of time, so shouldn't he have been--all brotherly protectiveness pushed aside--kinda... happy with him?

"I don't know that I understand why. Grayson is a perfectly acceptable and agreeable man and there is no comprehensible reason as to why you would have concern enough to speak to me clandestinely about him."

If Lia had been surprised at Ioan's tone, she was even more surprised at her own. She sounded... she sounded cold.

Ioan took no precations to hide the troubled furrowing of his brow at how she was speaking to him. Ophelia knew that he was probably thinking that he couldn't even recall the last time that she had spoken to him in anything but an endearing and affectionate manner. Hell, she couldn't recall one either, and she was still wondering where in the world her icy reception had come from when he leaned forward, laying a hand on her knee. His eyes were more concerned than ever and she couldn't for the life of her figure out why until--

"... Merlin, Clara, what has he done to you?"

Ioan sounded truly hurt, and she couldn't help but feel her heart bleed a little at that--but the sudden and unexpected surge of defensiveness and annoyance that rushed through her at his question was more than enough to overwhelm her soft feelings towards her older brother. Before she knew it, she had nearly jumped up out of her chair, pulling away from his touch as if it were to leave a burn on her skin.

"What do you mean, what has he done to me?" she exclaimed, angrier than she could rationalize being. "What in the hell would make you think that Grayson's done anything to--you know, he didn't mean it like that, all he meant was that we slept in the same bed one night, not that we--I can't believe you think so little of him and that--that you think so little of me, that really hurts, Ioan!"

Ioan followed her up out of the chairs and held his hands up in front of himself in a placating manner, seeming rather alarmed at the way Ophelia was acting so defensive. He also felt the anger beginning to boil over, because there was no way that she would be acting like this unless something had, indeed, happened. Plus, Grayson hadn't even attempted to give him an explanation as to what he had meant, and if he had cared about his reputation or what her family thought about him, he should have been making every attempt possible to make sure he came off looking squeaky clean.

"Didn't mean it like that, huh?" Ioan asked, attempting with all his might to keep his voice as calm and even as he could. He ran a hand through his hair, arching an eyebrow at her skeptically. "So you know we spoke. I suppose he owled you and gave you that story, yeah?" Ophelia opened her mouth to protest, but Ioan just continued to speak, holding out a hand to stop her. Shocked at the completely paranoid way he was coming off, she was nearly glued to her spot, allowing him to advance slowly towards her in a tired manner. "Look, Clara, I love you. I came here because I'm worried about you and about the kind of man that you're marrying. If he's done something--and yes, I'm convinced he has, obviously--then I--just please, you can tell me. I swear I won't tell a soul, not even Caitlin, I'll--our parents listen to me, you know that; I can go home right now and stop this if you just--"

"--Ioan, I swear upon Merlin, I--"

"Clara, listen to me, it's nothing to be ashamed of! I can get you out of this, I can--" he put his hands back on her shoulders and she could very easily invision the desperate, frustrated tears he was doing his best not to let come to his eyes "--I can have him arrested, you'll get out Scot-free and--"

"JUST LEAVE ME ALONE! YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW WHAT THE FUCK YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT!"

Ophelia practically ripped herself out of his grasp, the inexplicable hate and anger she was feeling towards her brother hardening her heart to stone, all his worry and concern and hurt and pain simply bouncing off of her. Her feet were backing her up quickly towards the door until her back ran straight into it. "WHY DON'T YOU MIND YOUR OWN BUSINESS? GO HOME TO YOUR HAPPY BLOODY WIFE AND BABY AND STAY AWAY FROM MY HUSBAND! I SWEAR, IF YOU EVER COME BACK HERE, IF YOU EVER TALK ABOUT HIM LIKE THAT AGAIN, I'LL DO WORSE THAN YELL, I'LL--I'LL--"

Her voice broke up as she felt her own tears spring to her eyes and, before allowing him to see them, turned around, and rushed out of the office, leaving her brother in nothing but stunned silence.