Alan Rickman x Y/N

Halloween With Alan Rickman

You let out a tired sigh and slam a foot against the flat tire of your 1990 Mustang. The thing may be just over decade old, but it's been nothing but reliable. Until now.

"Come on, [first name], we need to get to a phone."

You look across the black hood to your best friend. She's dressed as her favorite Spice Girl, Emma Bunton, who she happens to share her first name with.

"It's past midnight, Emma. And we don't even know where we are." You complain.

Emma nods, her blonde wig bouncing on her head.

"I understand that but we can't wait here all night..."

She gestures to you and laughs to herself.

"...and as much as you wish you were a wizard, magic can't fix this tire." Emma chuckles.

You roll your eyes and pull the car door open. You reach around into the backseat and grab the flashlight from the floor board. You lock your doors and begin to walk down the dark street. It's lined with pine trees and unlit street lamps. The moon is out but is covered in clouds.

"I can't believe we have exams in the morning. We're so screwed." Emma complains.

You nod, agreeing.

"Guess I'll have to retake chemistry." You conclude.

Emma raises her brows and steps onto the sidewalk.

"For the third time?" She wonders.

You shrug, laughing. You stumble as you step onto the side walk, earning a distasteful look from Emma.

"See, if I had driven, we'd been fine. You are drunk." Emma murmurs.

You throw the flashlight to her, which she catches.

"Just shut up and find a house that's lit up." You retort.

You rub your head, tiredly following her. You walk around a sharp turn, seeing a row of cars in the street - a party. Emma picks up her speed now, turning into the gated driveway. There's a brick mansion, lights on and muffled music playing, sitting deep into a tree filled property.

"Here? It's terribly busy." You complain.

Emma nods.

"One of them will have a cellphone. Come on."

You groan and follow her. You look at the cars as you approach the mansion. These people are rich - Tesla's, Porsche's, and Audi's are just a few you recognize.

"Emma, what if these are famous people...look how rich they are." You whisper.

She ignores you, turning up the stone steps to the double glass doors. She rings the doorbell - it sounds like a church bell. It tolls for a long moment. You sigh, standing at the bottom of the stairs, keeping your Slytherin robes held around you.

A man in a white dress shirt, dark green tie, and slim fitting dress pants answers the door. Your brows raise - he looks familiar. His brown hair, peppered with greeting ones, is tucked behind his ears. He's handsome - a rounded yet narrow face, a beautifully hooked nose, and a dazzling smile.

"Evening. Can I help you?"

Oh, god, he's British too.

"Yes, sir. My friend and I broke down around the corner. We just need to call a friend." Emma explains.

The man furrows his brows and steps out to Emma, holding a glass of wine in his large hand.