Dreams of Stardom (Hollywood SI)

"Bullshit!"

"Troy," Dad and Mum said my name in unison. Dad's voice carried a weariness that matched the late hour, while Mum's was sharp with a warning edge, the kind that always made me pause.

"What!?" I shot back, my frustration spilling over. "You know I'm right. They agreed to a 5% share of the musical only because I said I'd share my [Harry Potter] salary with my co-actors. And now they want a win-win situation for them? Forget it, we'll contact other studios for the musical, and [Harry Potter] is on hold till then. Did you get me that meeting with Jo and Eric?"

Dad sighed and leaned back in his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose. "It's not that easy."

I frowned, my agitation rising. "What's not so easy about getting a meeting?"

"I meant, it's not easy to walk away from Warner now," Dad clarified, his tone patient but firm. "Not until [Harry Potter] is over. Do you think this news won't reach the media? If filming gets delayed for an extended period, someone from the cast or crew will leak something."

"I don't care about that," I replied curtly, crossing my arms.

Mum stepped in, her expression as stern as her voice. "Don't forget, Barry is a shark. He won't hesitate to release a statement that could tarnish your reputation in the industry. The only reason he hasn't is because Warner has a lot riding on your name until [Harry Potter] wraps up."

I threw my hands up in frustration. "What do you think we should do then, huh? If we accept their offer, it won't take them long to pull something like this again when we're shooting the seventh film."

"True," Dad admitted, nodding. "That's why we'll propose a non-negotiable condition: I'll have complete creative control over all the upcoming [Harry Potter] films."

The suggestion gave me pause. It wasn't a perfect solution, but it addressed some of my concerns.

"As for the profit share," Dad continued, his tone now more analytical, "I know their demand of 15% sounds like a lot as compared to the original 5% we had agreed to, but don't forget that 15% is the industry standard. I'm confident I can get them to settle for 10% instead. Even if you go to some other distributor, you'll likely get a deal of 15% at best. Unless you want to start your own film distribution chain?"

The thought alone made my stomach turn. Distribution chains demanded massive capital investment and exhaustive managerial work. Producing films was one thing, but distribution was an entirely different beast. I was an artist first and foremost, not a businessman. Maybe someday I could hire someone else to handle it, but for now, it was a hard no.

I exhaled deeply, forcing myself to stay calm. "Fine. Negotiate with them as you like. But it only applies to the movie, not the music in it. I will still own it in its entirely."

"Done," Dad agreed.

"Also, make it crystal clear to them that I won't sell any of my future films to them again."

Mum held up a hand, her brows furrowing. "Don't be so hasty. We don't know what the future holds. You can't just write off an entire studio because of one disagreement."

I wanted to argue, but the words wouldn't come. Deep down, I knew it would be futile because Mum was right. She always had a way of pointing out the bigger picture, even when I didn't want to see it. Something similar had happened with Universal Studios years ago. They'd fired me from a movie before I could even sign the contract, all because of a deranged stalker. Back then, I'd sworn never to work with them again. In hindsight, that decision had been shortsighted, a product of anger rather than reason.

For an actor, cutting off ties with a major studio is like giving yourself a permanent handicap. Only the big studios have the resources to invest hundreds of millions into a single movie. Even with a net worth north of $400 million, I couldn't manage that. Producing a film involves more than just making it—marketing and distribution are where the real battles are fought. And the big studios? They were experts at both.

"Fine," I said at last, my voice heavy with reluctance. Just because I agreed didn't mean I had to like it. "Do what you think is best. Negotiate as much or as little as you want, but there can't be any more creative differences in [Harry Potter] going forward."

"I'll make sure of that," Dad promised, his tone firm.

I nodded but felt a spark of anger grow brighter within me. Outwardly, I had agreed, but I couldn't just let Barry Meyer push me around. I needed to make him understand who he was dealing with. One day, I will.

(Break)

"That's fucked up," Jamie Bell declared, shaking his head. His bluntness was oddly reassuring.

"I know!" I replied, throwing my hands in the air. "Jo and Eric were getting bribed by Warner—they agreed to give them both additional salaries if they went along with the rewrites. And the kicker? They didn't even like the changes themselves."

Emma glanced around nervously, her eyes scanning the room as if she expected someone to be listening. "Should you even be telling us about this, Troy?" she asked in a low voice.

I shrugged nonchalantly. "I don't care. I haven't signed an NDA prohibiting me from talking. Besides, you two are some of my best friends—I just wanted you to know why the shoot got delayed for a few days."

Jamie's gaze flicked between Emma and me, a spark of curiosity lighting up his expression. He looked like he had a question perched on the tip of his tongue but wasn't sure if he should ask.

"What is it, Jamie?" Emma asked, tilting her head slightly.

He hesitated, shifting in his seat, before finally blurting out, "Are you two…" He gestured between us, leaving the sentence unfinished. He didn't need to say more; the implication was clear.

"We're friends now," Emma answered calmly, her tone leaving no room for misinterpretation. "We've decided to move on with other people."

"Yes," I agreed, nodding along.

Emma and I hadn't told anyone about our respective fake relationships. I'd shared the details about Rihanna with Emma only because she'd confided in me about Nicholas Hoult. Beyond her and our respective families, no one else knew about it. Not even Jamie.

"Thank God!" Jamie heaved a dramatic sigh of relief, leaning back as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. "Do you two know how much I've missed these meetings of ours? Talking about anything and everything, just the three of us? For the last few years, I've felt like a third wheel. Please don't ever put me in that situation again."

I glanced at Jamie, feeling a pang of guilt. He was one of my closest male friends, and I hadn't exactly been the most attentive one in recent years. Before I could say anything to make amends, a sharp knock sounded on the door of my trailer. A moment later, the door swung open.

"Troy, Jamie, Emma," the second AD greeted us casually, clipboard in hand. "The shot is ready."

(Break)

The set was buzzing with activity when we arrived. The "Golden Trio" was no longer the only focus; Neville Longbottom and Luna Lovegood had joined us for the scene. The kiss between Harry and Cho had been postponed to rewrite it, and today we were filming the first meeting of Harry and Luna on the train.

"Action!" Rian Johnson's voice rang out across the set, and just like that, we slipped into our roles.

"Sorry, mate," Jamie said reluctantly, giving me an apologetic look as Ron. "Got to go do prefect's duties."

"You should be proud of the position that has been bestowed upon you, Ronald!" Emma snapped back in character, grabbing his sleeve with exaggerated frustration. She shot me a look, adding as she dragged him off, "Don't get yourself in trouble, Harry."

I waited until they exited the compartment before muttering under my breath, "As if I go looking for trouble."

The remaining cast members in the scene were Imogen, playing Ginny; Matthew, playing Neville; and Evanna, perfectly embodying the eccentric Luna Lovegood.

"I don't know what McGonagall was smoking when she made Ron a prefect," Imogen said, her tone light and teasing. "That should've been you, Harry."

A small snort escaped me before I quickly schooled my features back to Harry's signature brooding expression. At this point in the story, he was meant to be riddled with self-doubt and frustration, and I had to make sure my performance reflected that.

"That's your brother you're talking about," I reminded her with a raised eyebrow.

"Exactly!" she exclaimed with mock exasperation, leaning back in her seat.

There was a brief lull in the conversation, and I filled it with an awkward question, shifting in my seat. "So, I heard you got a mystery boyfriend."

Imogen's flat stare made me instantly regret the attempt. "Ron put you up to this, didn't he?"

I shrugged, letting the implication hang in the air without confirming anything. Sensing the topic was a dead end, she turned to Evanna, changing the subject smoothly. "Did you meet my friend Luna Lovegood, Harry?"

Evanna smiled dreamily, tilting her head as if observing me through an invisible lens. "Hello, Harry Potter. I know you," she said in a soft, mysterious voice before shifting her gaze to Matthew. "I don't know you."

Matthew's characteristically shy demeanor fit perfectly in the moment. He fumbled with his words, looking unsure. "I… I'm…" He paused, glancing at the others before finishing, "…a nobody."

Imogen bristled, jumping to his defense. "He's Neville Longbottom," she said hotly, her protectiveness coming through even in character. "He's very good with plants, like the one he's holding now."

Matthew's face lit up as the conversation turned to something he was passionate about. "Oh, yes!" he said excitedly, carefully lifting the cactus he'd been holding. "This is Mimbulus Mimbletonia."

The prop cactus would be enhanced later with CGI to give it a pulsating, otherworldly look. Even though it was inert now, Matthew handled it with care, given how vital it was to the scene.

"It's a very rare plant," Matthew continued, his enthusiasm bubbling over. "Here, hold this for a moment." He handed the cactus to me before diving into his bag. "Now, where is Trevor? I'll show you a trick with the plant. Just a sec…"

He rummaged through his bag with single-minded determination, his focus entirely on finding the elusive toad. The rest of us exchanged amused glances, waiting to see what he'd come up with next.

I felt the tickle in my nose and instinctively closed my eyes, as if a sneeze was about to erupt. When it came, it was loud—and a mistake.

The cactus exploded.

Evanna ducked behind her copy of The Quibbler, holding it up like a shield, while Imogen used her hands to cover her face. Matthew and I weren't so lucky. Being closest to the plant, we took the full brunt of its sticky attack. Dark green, gooey slime splattered us from head to toe.

Of course, it couldn't all be done in one take. For practical reasons, Rian called for a cut, and the makeup team swooped in. They worked quickly, smearing sticky green slime generously over Matthew and me, and adding just enough to the girls' costumes to make it look like they'd been caught in the crossfire.

"I'm so sorry!" Matthew stammered, clearly mortified. "I didn't know it would do that. It's not poisonous though…"

Before he could finish, the compartment door slid open, revealing Katie Leung who played Cho Chang—Harry's crush for this year. She stood there awkwardly, her hand still on the door handle.

"Um, hi, Harry," she began, but whatever else she had planned to say died on her lips when she saw the state I was in.

I opened my mouth to respond, but no words came out. After a moment of stunned silence, I shut it tightly, realizing anything I said would only make things worse.

"Just thought I'd say hello," Katie mumbled, glancing away. "Bye, then." She turned and closed the door behind her.

I sighed in defeat, the sound of it almost drowned by the muffled laughter from the others.

"Honestly, I don't know what you see in her," Imogen muttered, crossing her arms. "She's so…" Her expression cycled from disgust to dislike before she finally settled on indifference. "Forget it."

Before I could respond, the door opened again. This time, it was Emma and Jamie.

"We leave you alone for ten minutes!" Emma said with mock exasperation, throwing up her hands.

"Cut!" Rian's voice rang out from behind the monitors. "Perfect work, everyone! Let's move on!"

As the crew began preparing for the next setup, I scooped a handful of slime off my face and let it drip onto the floor.

Originally, this scene had been omitted from the movie, but with the tone of the film leaning too serious, Dad thought a humorous moment at my expense was necessary.

"You look quite dashing in green, Troy," Jamie quipped as he passed by, his grin mischievous. "Now we know for sure you'd do well in Slytherin."

"Fuck you too, Bell," I shot back playfully, shaking my head.

(Break)

Jamie paced the Gryffindor common room, his unease evident in the way his hands fidgeted at his sides. Only Emma and I were there with him, seated on one of the oversized couches by the fireplace.

"Umbridge has the entire castle under her control," Jamie grumbled, breaking the silence. "We need someplace to practice."

Emma let out a tired sigh. "If only the castle wasn't cleaned by magic, we could've asked the cleaners."

I nodded, agreeing with her logic. But Jamie suddenly stopped in his tracks, his eyes lighting up as if struck by inspiration.

"You're a bloody genius, Hermione!" he exclaimed, turning to Emma.

She blushed, looking away. "What did I say?"

"Hogwarts isn't cleaned by magic," he explained. "Well, technically, it is, but there are cleaners who perform the magic. And those cleaners are house-elves."

"Hogwarts has slaves working for them!?" Emma burst out, her outrage clear.

"Not slaves. House-elves," Jamie corrected, his tone matter-of-fact. "Who else do you think cooks our food?"

Emma looked visibly green at the thought, her lips parting to launch into a tirade, but I cut her off.

"Even so, we don't know any house-elf besides Dobby," I pointed out.

As if summoned by magic, a cheerful voice rang out across the set. "Harry Potter, sir, called?"

But instead of Dobby, it was Diane, a petite woman standing in as his height double. She wore a motion-capture suit, and her expression was bright as she stepped into the scene. Back when Dobby's scenes were shot for the second movie, he'd been entirely computer-generated. Now, the production had opted to use a stand-in for better interaction, with the voice actor, Toby Jones, also present on set to provide cues.

Diane gave us all a wide smile as she positioned herself, ready for the next part.

"Dobby?" I asked, my amazement genuine as I stared at the small figure before me. "What are you doing here?"

"Dobby gots him a job at Hogwarts," Dobby said proudly, puffing out his chest. His enthusiasm was infectious, even through the motion-capture suit Diane was wearing. "What can Dobby bes doing for sir?"

I glanced up at Jamie, who simply shrugged as if to say, Worth a try. Turning back to the excited house-elf, I asked, "Dobby, I need to find a place where we can practice spells without being discovered by any of the teachers. Especially Professor Umbridge."

Dobby began hopping in place, his tiny frame bouncing up and down with excitement. "Dobby knows the perfect place, sir! It's be called the Room of Requirement!"

"Cut!" Rian's voice interrupted, breaking through the moment. "Troy, don't smile. You're meant to be determined here."

"Sorry," I called out, trying to stifle my laughter. But it was no use—Diane's enthusiastic jumping, fully in character as Dobby, was impossible to ignore, and my grin lingered stubbornly.

Rian chuckled lightly. "No worries, let's start again."

It took nearly an hour to perfect the scene. By the time we wrapped for the day, I was exhausted, but my mood lifted instantly when I saw someone I'd been hoping to see for weeks.

"Hey there, Potter," came a familiar voice.

I turned just in time to catch Rihanna's wide grin before she closed the distance between us. Her lips met mine in a passionate kiss, unbothered by the fact that half the cast and crew were still around. For once, I managed to rein myself in, pulling back before anyone could scold us.

"Hey, Ri," I whispered, keeping my voice low so only she could hear. "What are you doing here? I thought you were on tour."

"I am," she replied, her eyes sparkling. "I've got a concert in London in two days."

My brows shot up. "So you want me to be there?"

"If you can, then yes," she said, nodding eagerly. "But I'll understand if you're busy."

"I'll try to come for a few hours at least," I promised, then remembered something. "Oh! One of my co-stars is a huge fan of yours. Can you sign an autograph for him?"

"Of course," she replied, her excitement evident. As a rising star, she still relished the autograph and photo-op aspects of celebrity life.

Her grin turned mischievous as she motioned toward the exit. "Come now. If you're done here, I can think of several things we could be doing instead."

I didn't need further encouragement. Taking her hand, I walked with her toward the lot's exit, the warmth of her fingers grounding me.

As we passed by, my eyes unexpectedly locked with Emma's.

For a moment, I froze. I'd completely forgotten she was still there. A flicker of worry crossed my mind—what would she think of Rihanna's presence on the set? To my surprise, Emma gave me a thumbs-up with a small smile.

I blinked, caught off guard, but quickly returned the gesture. In that moment, I realized something important: I was finally over Emma. And, judging by her action, she was over me, too.

The relief was like shedding a heavy weight I'd carried for months. Now that the moment I'd dreaded had come and gone, I couldn't have been happier with the outcome.

With that chapter finally closed, I put thoughts of Emma aside and focused on the woman beside me—Rihanna, whose hand felt so natural in mine and whose body could easily make me forget the world.

_____________________________________________

AN: Visit my Pat reon to read ahead, or participate in free polls about the story.

Link: www(dot)pat reon(dot)com/fableweaver