Half-Breed [ON HOLD]

five

1975;
BUNNY RABITS AND FRIENDS

Despite the fact that classes had only been in session for a little more than a week, Leonie already wanted to jump off the Astronomy tower.

Ignoring the burning stares of the group of younger males who sat at one of the tables behind her, the young half-Veela pressed the ball of her palms into her eyes and inwardly groaned.

Mr. Lyall was wrong, she thought woefully, I'm never going to pass O.W.L's!

"Hey Leo." Leonie looked up to see a slightly pink Peter Pettigrew.

"Hey Pete," she smiled, "What're you doing here?" The curly haired male sat his small moutin of History books onto the table and shrugged,

"Studying."

"Alone?" Leoine questioned. I was rare to see the young Pettigrew boy away from his Gryffindor cohorts.

He shrugged, "James is at Quiddtich pratice and Remus is tutoring."

"And Sirius?"

"I think hes turning the Crouch kid green."

"Why?" Leonie snickered, although she didn't know her fellow Slytgerin in he'd always seemed nice from afar.

"No clue," Peter told her. He flipped open the top book and before looking at the table of content wondered where Dorcas was.

"Detention."

"Why, what did she do?" Dorcas Meadowes liked trouble- she and her loud mouth and carless attitude were the very definition of the word trouble -but she almost never got caught for it.

Leonie grimaced, "Professor Sprout caught her hexing Rosier, apparently he called me a half-breed slut this morning."

Peter frowned deeply. Angry over the fact someone had called his friend a half-breed and a slut.

"He's such a git," Peter hissed. Leonie shrugged helplessly.

"What are you going to do? I can't burn every bigot."

Peter opened his mouth in response only for the words to catch in his throat.

He wasn't like Remus who would toss aside a wand and tackle anyone who dared to say shit about his friends, he wasn't like James who'd duel them in an empty corridor or like Sirius who'd get back at them through some elaborate, embrassing prank; he was Peter, the friend that always needed to be defended.

Shopping for school supplies had proven that to him.

"I don't know," he said and Leonie, having felt self-pity radiating off him, reached across the table and sympathetically patted the top of his hand.

His apple green eyes met her blue ones and she smiled at him, telling him that he was special and cared for and that his- their -friends defended him from bullies because they cared enough to want to protect him, not because he needed it, all without ever uttering a single word.

"So," Peter wondered weakly, "What are you studying?"

Leonie retacted her hand from his, "Transfiguration. None of it makes sense."

Peter, who remembered how earilier that day in Transfiguration they were supposed to be transforming tea kettles into rabbits, only for Leonie to turn the metal of her kettle into a beautful white fur and its spout into a tiny cottonball like tail.