Crew members shout to one another, somewhere near the back, where the false torches sputter with carefully-controlled magical flames. A runner with a clipboard rushes past, coat flapping. There's the crackle of a radio, a burst of static, a voice calling for "Mermaid tail, scene twelve."

It's early. Your call sheet had been slipped under the door of your trailer at six in the morning, and the ink had smudged under a drop of tea before you'd even finished reading it. Scenes 15, 16—Slytherin common room. Costume: green robes, collared shirt, school tie. The whole day ahead offers you nothing but hours in front of the camera, sandwiched between takes with the same faces you're starting to know better than your own reflection.

Leaning against a fake stone pillar, you spot the unmistakable shock of red hair bent over a stack of script pages, muttering something to himself. Rupert. He's wearing his Gryffindor sweater, sleeves pushed up, and he looks up just as you approach—his mouth splitting into a grin that could outshine the grip lights.