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Summary
The true Time-Turner was slammed savagely into Hermione's throat. It shattered against her neck, bits of glass and gold piercing into her skin. The last thing she saw before blackness consumed her was a plume of metallic dust and vitreous fragments, tiny prisms dancing behind her eyelids.
(In which Hermione accidentally ends up in 1950, pitted against an ascending Dark Lord in his prime, caught in the entanglement of pureblood politics, dark magic, and Tom Riddle's interest)
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“Why’d you come looking for me?” John deflects, recomposing himself quickly into a relaxed stance, leaning his hip into the railing as Jaren walks to join him beside it.
“Why wouldn’t I go looking for my best friend?”
John says nothing to it, turning to face the street again once Jaren is next to him. He swallows heavily, nodding ever so slightly. As if Jaren had just told him something groundbreaking, or told him some truth he didn’t understand before. Tyler’s porch lights are a fluorescent white, sickly and kind of grey and making it feel a bit like a hospital. They aren’t even that bright, and being turned away from them means John’s face is lit up by only the light of the moon.
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"Okay. What's your favorite color?"
John rolls his eyes. "Shut up," he says, "that's stupid."
"You have to answer the question. Those are the rules."
"Yellow. Have you ever fucked a dude?"
Smitty wheezes so hard his lungs might have burst.
***
Smitty attends a friend's wedding and is forced to confront some pretty complicated feelings through a game of Twenty Questions and a conversation about the Pope's shoes.
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When he graduated from university, Ranboo crossed the world to begin an apprenticeship with the greatest dragon wrangler in the world: Technoblade. But to his disappointment, Techno didn't seem interested in being a mentor at all. In fact, he seemed to actively hate Ranboo, and ignored him at every turn. So Ranboo set out with another goal in mind: get on Techno's good side.
Nothing about this would go wrong whatsoever.
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George’s legs ached.
His lungs felt tight and too small.
His breath was loud in his ears.
His pack bounced uncomfortably on his shoulders.
George, homeless and adrift, is an outlaw of the Mad King's reign. He'd spent the last two months being hunted across the wilderness at the fringe of society by a ruthless killer in a smiling mask and bright green coat. This, he understood.
What he didn't understand is why such a ruthless killer kept letting him go.
Series
- Part 1 of Long Live the King