Imogen Poots glanced around the set nervously, her eyes darting to the cluster of uniformed security guards stationed at various corners. They moved with precision, checking every crew member's ID and scanning the perimeter as if expecting trouble at any moment. She turned to Jamie Bell, who stood beside her with his hands casually stuffed in his jacket pockets.
"Is this…the new normal around Troy?" she asked quietly.
Jamie followed her gaze, watching as one guard paused to inspect a lighting technician's badge. The atmosphere felt more like a political summit than a film shoot.
He shrugged. "Looks like it. After what happened in LA, I'm not surprised. A life attempt like that makes you extra cautious." His voice lowered as he glanced around. "Even though this is London, you can still feel the tension here. And with the recession going on everywhere, there are more than a few people out there who are angry at the world, let alone Troy."
"They told me that any visitors have to be cleared in advance," Jamie added. "No surprise visits from friends or family."
"Yeah, me too," Imogen nodded. "My boyfriend loves showing up unannounced, but now the surprise part would be gone before he even got to the parking lot."
Jamie gave a small chuckle. "As good as being a billionaire sounds, I'd rather not. Just hearing about the lengths they go to for his safety makes me feel claustrophobic. I like being able to go wherever, whenever I want."
"True," Imogen agreed. "I also think Troy–"
She broke off mid-sentence when Jamie's hand lightly gripped her arm. His gaze shifted over her shoulder. She followed it and saw Troy walking toward them. Even at a distance, the faint lines of worry were visible under his eyes.
"Hey, guys," he greeted neutrally as he reached them. "All set for today's shoot?"
Up close, his tiredness was more obvious. Not just that, there was a kind of heaviness in Troy's face that made his wealth and fame seem far less glamorous.
"If I hug you right now, your security won't tase me, will they?" she asked with mock innocence.
A short laugh escaped him, breaking through the fatigue. "No, they won't."
She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him, her hands moving in slow, reassuring circles along his back. She didn't say anything, but she could feel the way his shoulders eased slightly, as if the hug anchored him back to something normal after the chaos of the last few days.
"Get a room, you two," Jamie called out, grinning like a teenager.
"Shove it, Bell," Imogen shot back as Troy released her. "Troy is like my brother."
"The same brother you'll be making out with in a few minutes," Jamie teased.
Before she could respond, Troy smirked. "Ignore him. He's just salty I get to kiss a beautiful girl while he's probably going to be making out with random fangirls for the rest of his life at the speed he's going."
"Hey!" Jamie protested.
Imogen snorted, remembering the tabloid frenzy from a few months ago. The cheating scandal had been everywhere: Jamie caught on a grainy fan video, kissing a girl who wasn't his then-girlfriend, Evan Rachel Wood. The recording stopped before anything went further, sparing him from an even bigger PR disaster. The truth was, Jamie and Rachel had broken up privately months before, but had continued to appear as a couple in public. A staged set of paparazzi photos showing them kissing had been taken just a day before the video leaked. No one had believed their statement afterward, where they claimed that they had already broken up.
When the laughter faded, Jamie's tone softened. "You okay, though?"
"I will be," Troy replied, his voice serious. "Thanks for what you said to the media. It means a lot."
Jamie waved it off. "It was the truth. Blaming you was like blaming a bookie for England's loss in a football match. It just wasn't fair."
Troy nodded appreciatively before glancing toward the bustling set. It was unusually crowded today. Members of the Weasley family milled around in costume, chatting between takes. Fleur Delacour adjusted her robes near the prop table, while Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks stood off to the side, reviewing their lines. A few more Order members waited near the camera rigs, ready for their scene.
The only person missing was Emma Watson. Once she arrived, they could finally start filming.
(Break)
Sundar Pichai felt his patience tested to its limits with each passing second. The security guard in front of him was standing stiffly, blocking the entrance like an immovable wall.
"I told you, Troy is expecting me," Sundar said, his voice strained. "I even booked an appointment with him. Ask his assistant, Benji. He sent me an email confirming it."
"With all due respect, Mister, this is a film set, not an office," the guard replied flatly. His tone carried the finality of someone who had repeated the same line all day. "If you have an appointment with him, you'll have to meet elsewhere."
"Troy told me to come here," Sundar pressed, pulling out his employee badge. "I work at YouTube. I flew in from San Francisco just for this. He said there's plenty of free time between takes to discuss our business."
Before the guard could respond, a young woman approached the entrance. Sundar thought her face looked familiar, though he couldn't place it immediately. The guard stepped aside without hesitation, letting her pass without even a glance at her ID.
"That's not fair," Sundar protested, pointing toward the departing figure. "You let her walk right in."
The guard's expression didn't change. "That was Emma Watson, the lead actress in the movie. Of course, I let her in. Now, I'd advise you to leave peacefully before I have to call for backup."
"Backup?" Sundar's eyebrows shot up. "Do I look like a criminal to you?"
The guard gave a shrug that somehow felt insulting. "You could be, for all I care. The ones who bombed London two years ago looked an awful lot like you."
Sundar's jaw clenched. "You moth—!" He cut himself off, forcing in a slow breath. Taking a step back, he reminded himself that getting angry would solve nothing. Living in America after 9/11 had been difficult enough. It seemed the same shadow followed him here in London, all because of his skin color.
With a reluctant sigh, he pulled out his phone. He didn't want to do this, but there was no other way. He dialed Troy's personal number. After a few rings, someone answered.
"Hello?" The voice wasn't Troy's.
"Hi, this is Sundar Pichai from YouTube," Sundar said quickly. "Troy asked me to come to the set in London, but the guard won't let me in because I'm not on the clearance list."
The voice groaned softly on the other end. "Oh, Sundar, I'm so sorry. I forgot to add your name to the approved list. I'll be right there."
A few minutes later, Benji—Troy's assistant—appeared at the entrance, walking briskly. Sundar vaguely remembered meeting him at YouTube's headquarters during one of Troy's visits.
"Let him through," Benji told the guard. "Troy called him here."
The guard gave Sundar a final skeptical look before stepping aside.
"I'm so sorry about that," Benji said as they walked inside.
"It's okay," Sundar replied, waving it off. "It's just… that guard looked at me as if I personally bombed London. It was bad enough in the States after 9/11, but now it's here as well."
Benji's expression softened, but before he could apologize again, Sundar raised a hand. "It's fine. I've gotten used to it by now." He changed the subject. "How long does the shoot last?"
"All day," Benji answered. "We start around eight in the morning and usually go until nine at night. Sometimes even beyond that. It's tougher here on [Harry Potter] because Troy is in most of the scenes. He's usually here before anyone else. Other actors come later or leave earlier, depending on how many scenes they have."
Sundar raised his brows in genuine admiration. "Now I understand why he called me here instead of meeting at his home. He sounds very dedicated."
"He is," Benji replied with a nod. "People look at superstars and think they have it easy, but in all my time working for Troy, I can confidently say I've never seen anyone work as hard as he does. When he's not filming, he's either doing research for his investment portfolio, meeting with CEOs and other top-level executives from his group of companies, or making music. And somehow, he still finds the time to work out and spend time with his family."
"Oh God," Sundar muttered under his breath. "How does he not burn out? Is he even human?"
Benji shrugged, a small smile tugging at his lips. "He's built a little differently, that's for sure. The thing is, he actually enjoys working as much as he does. But the best part is that while he keeps crazy hours, he never expects me or anyone else to do the same. He knows how much it inconveniences him when I'm not around to handle his schedule, but even then, every month, he gives me first-class tickets to visit my parents in New York. He's the coolest, and probably the most generous boss anyone could ask for."
Sundar was impressed. It was rare to hear someone speak so positively about their employer without hesitation. Then again, maybe Benji was just being careful, not wanting Sundar to say anything negative to Troy later. Deciding to probe a little, he asked, "But surely you'd want to move on to other avenues someday?"
Benji considered the question as they continued walking along the side of the bustling set. "At first, I wanted to move into film production. Troy even told me I could make the switch anytime I wanted. But now…I don't see the point. I'm happy here. I get the perks without the tension of actually making a movie, and the pay is incredible. Plus, there's the bonus of the girls who try to get close to him but eventually settle for me."
He shook his head, smiling at the thought before continuing. "And then there are the other perks. I don't need to buy clothes, shoes, or accessories now. Troy gets so much free designer stuff that he doesn't even use, and he just gives it to me. Then last year, I won a bet against him, and as promised, he handed me the keys to a Rolls-Royce. Just like that."
"Damn," Sundar said, letting out a low whistle. "Want to switch jobs with me?"
Benji laughed, shaking his head. "Never."
By then, they had reached the heart of the set, where the cameras were rolling and the atmosphere had shifted to quiet focus. Crew members moved with careful precision, making last-minute adjustments to lighting and props.
Leaning closer, Benji whispered, "Keep quiet and wait wherever you feel comfortable, just don't get in anyone's way. I'll come find you when this scene wraps and Troy's free to talk."
Sundar gave a single nod before drifting toward a group of crew members gathered near a prop table. They were watching a scene being filmed in a set that looked like a home, where several actors were clustered around a floating cake suspended from thin wires.
It wasn't just any cake; it was shaped like a golden ball, with delicate translucent wings jutting from its sides, shimmering under the studio lights. Sundar stared at it in mild confusion. He'd never seen a [Harry Potter] movie, so whatever the odd object symbolized was completely lost on him.
British desserts were definitely getting weirder by the day.
"Happy birthday, Harry!" A plump redheaded woman swept Troy into a hearty hug, her voice warm and motherly.
"Thanks, Mrs. Weasley," Troy replied with a small smile. "You didn't have to make the cake."
From Sundar's spot among the crew, it was clear that the smile didn't quite reach the boy's eyes. Even in character, there was a heaviness in his demeanor, an unspoken weight pressing on his shoulders. It was the look of someone who believed he didn't truly deserve to celebrate his birthday.
"Of course I had to!" Mrs. Weasley said brightly. "It's not every day you turn seventeen."
Emma Watson, the same young woman Sundar had seen at the entrance earlier, stepped forward. "Happy birthday, Harry!" she said warmly, before handing him a small wrapped box. "It's not much, but Ron and I thought… You could use something to remember her."
"We made it together," added the red-haired boy beside her, Ron, trying to hold her hand as he spoke. She quickly slipped her fingers free from his grasp.
Harry opened the box, revealing a small animated white owl figurine. No larger than six inches, it was clearly a prop toy for the film, battery-operated, but with feathers so realistic that when it let out a soft hoot, it almost seemed alive.
Harry's breath caught. He moved forward and pulled both Hermione and Ron into a tight three-way hug. "Thank you, Hermione. Ron."
Neither friend spoke. Hermione simply patted his back, while Ron looked down at the floor.
After a few seconds, they stepped apart, and another figure came into frame, a slender red-haired girl who lingered at the edge of the group.
"Harry?" she called softly. "I have a gift for you as well. Can you come with me for a bit?"
Harry's eyes met hers, and for a moment, the set seemed to still. Sundar didn't have to be a [Harry Potter] fan to notice the charged tension between them. The girl looked shy, almost unsure, while Harry's expression was filled with something deeper: regret, longing, and unmistakable love.
A light nudge from Hermione seemed to break the moment. "Yeah," Harry said, clearing his throat. "I mean… yes. Lead the way, Ginny."
The two walked away, the cameraman following quietly behind them as they entered a small bedroom set.
"Nice view," Harry remarked casually, glancing around Ginny's room.
Before he could say more, Ginny closed the distance between them and pressed her lips to his. The kiss was far from chaste. Though she had initiated it, Harry responded instantly, wrapping his arms around her and holding her close as if nothing else existed in that moment. It was hungry, emotional, and full of the urgency of two people who had been kept apart too long.
They didn't part until the door swung open. Ron stood in the doorway, his eyes widening. "Oh, sorry," he muttered, retreating quickly.
Ginny leaned in, her voice barely above a whisper. "Happy birthday, Harry."
Harry exhaled slowly, then stepped away from her and followed Ron out of the room, leaving Ginny standing alone.
As soon as they were out of earshot, Ron seized Harry by the collar and slammed him against the wall. The set wall shuddered slightly from the impact.
"What's wrong with you?" Ron's voice was low but dangerous. "She's my sister. You can't just kiss her after abandoning her."
"I didn't leave her because I wanted to!" Harry shot back. His voice cracked with something caught between anger and guilt. "I…" He faltered, gaze flicking away. For a moment, uncertainty clouded his face, as if the next words were too heavy to say aloud. Then his eyes hardened, and he gave a small, deliberate nod. "Alright. It won't happen again. I promise."
Ron studied him for a beat, searching for sincerity. Whatever he saw must have been enough, because his grip loosened. "Right."
"Harry, Ron!" Hermione's voice cut in as she approached. "The Minister of Magic is here. He wants to meet us."
Harry and Ron exchanged a puzzled look, then both gave the same tiny shrug.
"Cut!" The director's voice boomed across the soundstage. "That was a good one, guys. Moving on to the next setup for the meeting with the minister. We'll break for lunch: one hour."
The tension on set evaporated instantly. Crew members began chatting, lights dimmed, and the background hum of casual conversation returned.
"That was intense," Sundar murmured to the man beside him.
"Of course it was," the man replied without hesitation. "Whenever Troy's in one of the big scenes, everyone watches. Sure, the others are good as well, but Troy's… Troy. You get it?"
Sundar nodded. He would have had the same reaction watching Shah Rukh Khan when he was in India. Sundar hadn't seen much of Troy's work, but he had seen [The Dark Knight]. His portrayal of the Joker had shocked him. Meeting Troy in person was even stranger, given how normal he seemed off camera. And now, here he was, showing yet another completely different side as Harry Potter.
"Hey, Sundar!"
He turned to see Troy striding over with a wide grin. "Sorry for making you wait. This is the only free slot I've got today. Come with me to my trailer, we'll go over everything."
Just behind him, Benji hovered. Troy glanced his way. "Benji, can you get someone to send lunch for two to my trailer?"
"Sure thing," Benji said, already pulling out his phone.
Inside, Troy's trailer was another world entirely: plush leather seating, polished wood paneling, a subtle scent of sandalwood. Fit for royalty. Which, Sundar thought, was appropriate enough; Troy's net worth probably eclipsed that of several small nations.
"Alright," Troy said, dropping into a chair and leaning forward. "What was so important that you went behind your boss's back and made me cover for you?"
Sundar drew a breath. "With all due respect to Chad, he's hyperfocused on what's right in front of him. He's not seeing the bigger picture."
"And you are?"
"I like to think I am," Sundar said evenly. "You've already seen the Chrome browser, the one Chad tried to shut down. We're almost done with it. We can launch next month."
Troy nodded for him to continue.
Sundar reached into his pocket and placed a sleek phone in Troy's hand. "My team's been working on something else. I thought it was better to show you first."
The screen lit up, and Sundar began the demo. Troy's eyes widened, and the corners of his mouth lifted just slightly as the explanation went on. Sundar knew that look. Although Troy didn't say it out loud, Sundar knew that his visit had been successful.
________________________
AN: Visit my personal website to read ahead, or check out my second Hollywood story set in the 80s.
Link: www(dot)fablefic(dot)com