Your car broke down. It was pitch black, so you couldn't see anything around you except for the streetlights that lit up the street a little. You had just finished an interview with Oliver Phelps, your best friend, and James Phelps, your arch-enemy.

You've starred in a lot of movies together, including Harry Potter, and you played his wife every time, but outside of the movies, you hated each other. You started to panic when you realized you couldn't get home if your car broke down.

But before you could cry, someone grabbed your hand and pulled you toward a car. It was your arch-enemy, James Phelps. He opened the passenger door and let go of your hand, going to open his door and getting in to drive.

You got into the car, into the passenger seat, and closed the door, still shaking and holding back tears. James started driving. The car was silent; the only thing that could be heard was the car driving down the road.

James looked in the rearview mirror and saw you shaking and fidgeting with your fingers, your lower lip trembling. James, without warning, gently and slowly, placed his hand on yours. Softly, he didn't want to rush you, just... reassure you?