Miss Pegasus' weird Oneshots

Leander is Nobody's Type

A witch, a nun, and a cat enter a bar. What sounds like the beginning of a bad joke is actually the beginning of a legendary girls' night at the Halloween party at the Three Broomsticks. Well, maybe the beginning of a terrible joke, too. We'll see what the evening brings. Let's focus on our three protagonists.

The aforementioned witch, nun, and cat enter the Hogsmeade establishment on this cold October evening. The pub is already packed, the air warm and filled with the scent of Butterbeer and Firewhiskey. The music competes with the chorus of hundreds of voices. Here and there, laughter can be heard.

"I should have reserved us a table after all," the witch yells to her two companions. "Perhaps we can find a table where we can join," the cat suggests. The other two nod in agreement.

With watchful eyes, they fight their way through the crowd, necks constantly craning to see the tables. They have no luck on the pub's ground floor, however. The partygoers are crammed so tightly at the tables that some of them are already sitting stacked on top of each other. But they haven't given up hope. The Three Broomsticks, after all, has another floor with tables.

Fortunately, the second floor is still quiet. At least more tranquil than the hustle and bustle below them. In a corner at the back of the room, they actually spot a table where there still seem to be seats available. Ready to unleash all their feminine charm, the three young women head toward the table with the group of men.

"Do you have room for three?" asks the cat, catching the attention of the four men. Two clowns, a scarecrow, and a blind mouse from the Shrek movies fix their gaze on them. "You're in luck," replies the scarecrow. "We actually have room for you. Feel free to join us." The cat sits down purposefully next to the scarecrow. Her black curls tickle his cheek as she flings them over her shoulder and smiles at him. The witch sits next to the blind mouse, and the nun squeezes herself between the two clowns, who simply grin at her. With a grimace, she slides away from one of the clowns.

"Could we buy you a drink?" asks the clown with the wild red curls, and the three young women gladly accept the offer. The clown waves his magic wand, and red sparks flash. A moment later, three fresh glasses of Butterbeer are on the table. The three girls each gratefully take a glass and raise a toast to the boys and each other.

With a fake yawn, the scarecrow stretches and puts an arm around the cat next to him. "So, do you three handsome girls come here often?" he asks with a crooked smile. "Only when we know there are some attractive guys here," the cat replies, winking at the very obviously flirtatious young man. The scarecrow leans forward a bit, and just a wink later, the cat and he are kissing passionately.

"Man, you guys really didn't last long!" complains the nun. "Can you believe it?! Charlotte! Sebastian! We wanted to at least keep the game going a little bit." "Sorry, Imelda," the two lovebirds say in unison. Stunned and a little amused by their amorous friends, she shakes her head. "You really can't keep your hands off each other for long."

"So can we just act normal now?" asks the witch, who has already entwined her fingers with those of the blind mouse. Sighing, Imelda rolls her eyes. "Fine by me."

"So, if Poppy and Ominis don't want to play this game anymore, does that mean you're fed up too, honey?" asks the clown to Imelda's right. "No, I'm fed up now, either," Imelda pouts, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

"Are you sure?" asks the clown to her left with the short red hair, leaning closer to Imelda. His hand, which strokes her shoulder, is brushed away with a glare. "I was hoping you might choose two clowns today." He winks at her, at which Imelda grimaces in disgust. "Forget it, Leander. One clown is enough for me. And there isn't enough alcohol in the world for me to ever start anything with you." "Ouch," Garreth comments on the rejection. "No offence, dude, but I agree with Imelda: There isn't enough alcohol in the world for me to ever start anything with you. I share a lot with you, but love stops with my girlfriend. So you'll have to find another slutty nun."

Leander turns his brown eyes to Sebastian for help, but he immediately blocks it. "Hey, Garreth said, another slutty nun, not a cat! Besides, you're not my type."

Desperately, Leander turns toward Ominis, but just as he catches his breath, Ominis raises his hand defensively. "Don't even think about it, Prewett. I may be blind, but you're still not my type." "You're great friends," Leander complains, prompting a "We're not friends" from Sebastian and Ominis.

"Then I'll have to find a new flirt. Wish me luck." With these words, Leander gets up from the table and disappears into the crowd. He doesn't hear anyone wishing him luck except Garreth. None of them suspects that Leander Prewett will indeed not leave the Three Broomsticks alone that evening. The short, black mane he'll wake up next to the next morning will be both a shock and a revelation for him.