ᴀ ғᴇᴡ ʜᴏᴜʀs ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴘᴀssᴇᴅ
𝚂𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚕𝚎𝚢'𝚜 𝙿𝙾𝚅:
𝙼𝚢 𝚘𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚏𝚕𝚘𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚎𝚡𝚌𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚏𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚍𝚘𝚖 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚋𝚞𝚋𝚋𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚗. 𝚆𝚎'𝚟𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚠𝚊𝚕𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚎𝚎𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚕𝚢 𝚒𝚗𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚝𝚎 𝚐𝚊𝚛𝚍𝚎𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚎𝚜𝚌𝚊𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗.
"𝑴𝒂𝒚𝒃𝒆 𝒘𝒆 𝒕𝒐𝒐𝒌 𝒂 𝒘𝒓𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏, 𝑪𝒖𝒓𝒂𝒕𝒐𝒓,"
"𝘕𝘰, 𝘐 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘷𝘦 𝘸𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦, 𝘕𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘰𝘳. 𝘞𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘐 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘦,"
𝙰𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚐𝚞𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚐𝚎𝚍 '𝚎𝚜𝚌𝚊𝚙𝚎', 𝚒 𝚐𝚛𝚎𝚠 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚍, 𝚑𝚞𝚗𝚐𝚛𝚢, 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚛𝚜𝚝𝚢 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚒𝚛𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍. 𝙸 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍𝚗𝚝 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚊𝚔 𝚞𝚙 𝚒𝚏 𝚒 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘. 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙽𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚘𝚛 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙲𝚞𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚘𝚛 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚎𝚗𝚐𝚛𝚘𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚒𝚛 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝚙𝚊𝚢 𝚊𝚝𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝚊 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚞𝚝𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚒𝚛 𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚘𝚗 𝚖𝚎. 𝙷𝚘𝚠𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛, 𝚒 𝚕𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚗 𝚞𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚕 𝚒 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚗𝚘 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚕𝚎𝚏𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚖𝚢𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏.
"𝑯𝒆𝒚, 𝑺𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒍𝒆𝒚 𝒅𝒐𝒏𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒌 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕--" 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚗𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚊𝚝 𝚖𝚎. 𝙷𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚍 𝚠𝚊𝚕𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚝 𝚖𝚎 𝚜𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚕𝚢.
𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑵𝒂𝒓𝒓𝒂𝒕𝒐𝒓'𝒔 𝑷𝑶𝑽:
𝑺𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒍𝒆𝒚'𝒔 𝒐𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒆𝒙𝒄𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒇𝒂𝒄𝒆 𝒉𝒂𝒅 𝒃𝒆𝒆𝒏 𝒓𝒆𝒅𝒖𝒄𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈. 𝑯𝒊𝒔 𝒅𝒆𝒆𝒑 𝒃𝒓𝒐𝒘𝒏 𝒉𝒂𝒊𝒓 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒊𝒏 𝒂 𝒎𝒆𝒔𝒔, 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒕𝒊𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒔𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒉𝒆 𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒌𝒆𝒅 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒉𝒆 𝒉𝒂𝒅 𝒃𝒆𝒆𝒏 𝒅𝒓𝒂𝒈𝒈𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉 𝒂 𝒃𝒖𝒔𝒉.
𝑰 𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒍𝒚 𝒑𝒍𝒂𝒄𝒆𝒅 𝒂 𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒐𝒏 𝑺𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒍𝒆𝒚'𝒔 𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒍𝒚 𝒂𝒔 𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒆𝒅 𝒃𝒂𝒄𝒌 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒅𝒖𝒍𝒍 𝒆𝒚𝒆𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒉𝒂𝒅 𝒍𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒓 𝒔𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒌 𝒂𝒈𝒆𝒔 𝒂𝒈𝒐.
"𝑻𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒑𝒊𝒅, 𝒘𝒆 𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒋𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒆𝒕. 𝑻𝒐𝒐 𝒎𝒖𝒄𝒉 𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒖𝒓𝒆 𝒊𝒔 𝒑𝒖𝒕 𝒐𝒏 𝑺𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒍𝒆𝒚 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒘𝒆 𝒃𝒂𝒓𝒆𝒍𝒚 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒉𝒐𝒘 𝒕𝒐 𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒌 𝒂𝒇𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒉𝒊𝒎, 𝑪𝒖𝒓𝒂𝒕𝒐𝒓,"
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Fanfictionsᴘᴇɴᴅɪɴɢ ʟɪғᴇ ᴏᴜᴛsɪᴅᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴀʀᴀʙʟᴇ ɪs ǫᴜɪᴛᴇ ᴛʜᴇ sᴛʀᴇᴛᴄʜ ғᴏʀ ʙᴏᴛʜ ɴᴀʀʀᴀᴛᴏʀ ᴀɴᴅ sᴛᴀɴʟᴇʏ. ᴡɪʟʟ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛᴡᴏ ғɪɢᴜʀᴇ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ᴅɪғғʀᴇɴᴄᴇs ᴏʀ ʙᴇ ᴛᴏʀɴ ᴀᴘᴀʀᴛ ʙʏ ᴄᴏɴsᴛᴀɴᴛ ᴄᴏɴғʟɪᴄᴛ?
