commitment.

He arrives at the studio around 11 a.m., two and a half hours late, with a slight backache. His driver had brought him a suit. His hair was wet, and his steps were slow, deliberate. He wore sunglasses, earrings, and a ring he had been given as a gift.

Little did he know that most of the cast already knew what he had done as reported by the newspapers. The bar he had visited had given an interview, and photos were circulating—him with three women climbing into a car. It was nothing short of a scandal, and the image was far from what a children's movie should represent. Yet he cared for nothing but finishing the day.

He sat in the dressing room and put on the suit. They were apparently about to shoot the maze scene. His posture was relaxed yet confident.

–You're the young man who delayed filming, aren't you?– commented a man, none other than Ralph Fiennes, the acclaimed British actor. His reputation and career preceded him, and his expressive eyes captivated everyone. Despite his gravitas, he was warmer and more approachable than expected, like a father gently scolding a child who had upset his mother. With a hint of amusement, he waited for a response.

–Well, I forgot we had filming today,– Billy replied casually.

–Your agent didn't remind you?–

–I think he did, but at some point during the night, I just forgot. Plus, it's too early to work. I'm still on American time, even if it doesn't look like it. I spend my nights playing guitar until the early hours, wake up late sometimes, and forget everything else.– Billy's nonchalant tone didn't falter.

–Hahaha, you're quite a character... Forgive me for saying so, but I imagine you must be a challenging actor to work with. You're the epitome of a rock star. I don't pay much attention to rumors, but seeing you so laid-back, even with Joanne wanting to strangle you, is oddly amusing.– Ralph's humor was sharp but playful.

Billy was undeniably star material. His life, as detailed in the tabloids, his raw talent, and his unconventional ways made him irresistible. He had half of England swooning, particularly women aged 12 to 22.

Ralph, wearing a towel robe and black trousers, had an unmistakable air of Lord Voldemort about him.

–I guess it's easy to portray stereotypes. You just have to be a little perceptive,– Billy responded.

–We'll save that for another time. For now, could you do me a favor and sign an autograph for my niece? She can't stop talking about Bill Carson, the star. I've told her you're much sillier in person, but she doesn't believe me.– Ralph's dry wit was on full display.

Billy agreed and asked for her name, carefully crafting a personalized dedication with his signature style: a name, an "X," and the year "04." Anything missing those elements wasn't authentic. It was a meticulous art he'd developed, inspired by Jerry's advice that collectors love personal touches and details.

He'd filled countless sheets of blank paper to perfect his signature over six months in juvenile detention, refining it further during his early concerts. His system distinguished between continents, using "N" for America and "X" for Britain, always prepared to add more elements as needed.

–Quite detailed,– Ralph observed, inspecting the autograph closely.

–I like it that way,– Billy replied.

The next few hours passed in a blur of filming. David Yates and the seasoned crew seemed unbothered. They had learned that trying to control Warner's golden boy was a futile endeavor.

–Welcome, Billy. Hope you're ready,– greeted someone from the crew.

Billy nodded. It didn't matter much—his part required a few lines, mainly dramatization. He had to channel cold anger, akin to when he sang tracks like "Clint Eastwood" or "Teenager" from his first album. Strong, controlled, and brimming with intensity.

–Action.–

The maze was underwhelming compared to his expectations. It was a ten-meter square set with a few walls. The shots were taken in circles, and when the maze seemed to close, it was simply a movable wall against a green screen. His wand, however, was impressively crafted.

He ran through the maze, performing a choreographed scene with Clémence. Her acting was stellar, convincingly terrified of him—wide-eyed, flailing arms, true mastery of the role. Viktor Krum, under the Imperius curse, was savage and brutal. Billy then engaged in a brief clash with Robert; their choreography was seamless, though the take lasted barely 50 seconds.

Afterward, Daniel and Robert gave their all in a dramatic, intense moment, which Billy observed from the sidelines, intrigued by their synergy.

During a break, he sat next to Clémence to watch the behind-the-scenes footage.

–I didn't know you were that scared of me,– Billy teased.

–It's my job,– she replied, smiling.

He leaned in closer, smirking. –I must be terrifying. Though, I get it—this face can't charm every woman it encounters.–

Clémence blushed, while Emma, watching from afar, felt a pang of jealousy. The photos in the tabloids, his late arrival, and now his playful banter with another actress all added to her frustration. She longed for just a moment of his attention.

–Cut!– the director called, pleased with the efficient progress.

Billy's remaining scenes involved him as an extra, wandering in the background for the next two hours. Acting required immense patience, a balancing act of humility and ego, and knowing when to shine.

–I think the cemetery scene is next,– Billy said, watching the crew prepare. He decided to grab a bite in his dressing room—maybe some pasta. Breakfast had been unsatisfying, and he hoped Mrs. G wasn't too upset about his escapade the night before. He sent a quick text to Avril, who was out shopping with Lily Allen.

–I didn't know you'd read the book,– Emma commented, approaching him.

–I can still surprise people,– Billy replied. –Aren't you supposed to be watching the cameras? I thought we agreed you'd stop stalking the boys, Emma.–

–Stop being so full of yourself. I just wanted to ask you something,– she said nervously, glancing at the crew carrying equipment. Taking a deep breath, she finally blurted out:

–Why were you late?–

–A friend came from Canada. She's a singer. We've got some shows planned together, and she'll join me on my next tour. Want to come along? We'll do all the things they won't let you do at home.– Billy's teasing tone made Emma's heart race.

–I have school,– she muttered.

–Shame. I'd love to have you on tour, darling.–

Emma stood abruptly, defeated yet unable to walk away. Something told her this might be the last time she saw him for a long while. Meanwhile, Billy received his food at a folding table in the nearly empty dressing room. Mrs. G's pasta was as delicious as ever, and they ate in silence.

–Would you take me on tour?– Emma asked softly.

–If you wanted to come, why not? There's plenty of room for you,– Billy replied with a casual smile.

All she wanted was a kiss—something she yearned for but didn't have.