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Summary
Harry pressed his forehead to the cool glass of the pitlane suite, breath fogging the view for a second before the wind from the cars cleared it away. The hum of the engines was a living thing today, loud and raw beneath the canopy of sky. Red Bull’s pit wall was a hive of focused faces and clipped radios, in the centre of it all, Blaise was barely visible as a streak of blue and red, carving his way along the circuit like he belonged to the asphalt.
Series
- Part 8 of Silver Trio