To top everything off, Fawley... the little shit... was haunting his steps. He was outside of his International Relations class, tonight, leaning on the wall with his arms crossed and a smirk on his face. Olie, Dean and Wayne weren't in that class, but he saw that Nott and Greengrass had noticed Fawley as they left. Zabini would know.
                              
"Stay the fuck away from me!" Zach growled, when the hallway cleared.
                              
"Easy, honey... I'm just checking in on you. You seemed to enjoy our last meeting," Fawley drawled.
                              
"I didn't enjoy it! You gave me a handjob... that was it! Now, fuck off!" Zach spat and walked away. Fawley followed next to him like they were mates. Zach glared at him.
                              
"But you didn't object at all... strange me not being a girl," Fawley chuckled, wiggling his eyebrows.
                              
Zach went pale and stopped. Oh, Helga. He stammered out, "I was cursed to be erect, Fawley! Don't jump to conclusions!"
                              
"I didn't jump. I made a small step and it was right there... in my hand... like milk coming out of an udder," he purred and glanced down at Zach's tented robes. 
                              
Zach scrambled backward. "It's the curse, asshole. That's the only reason!"
                              
"You did ask me to... keep going, Zach. Don't pretend that you didn't."

                              
"Shut up! Leave me alone!"
                              
"Are you sure you want me to do that, Zachy-boy? I am quite good at... wrestling cranky badgers..." Fawley drawled, leaning toward him and winking.
                              
He could only splutter and back away. "Just... fuck off!"
                              
Fawley at least didn't come any closer. "Are you sure? You're looking flustered... I can relieve your tension."
                              
"You're buddies with Blaise! I remember what you said!" he growled, finally remembered that whispered comment. Thank magic, that only he heard it.
                              
"He asked for a favor... who was I to say no to an... opportunity?" Fawley said, loftily.
                              
"You're in league with him... I'm not stupid."
                              
"Maybe I am... and maybe I'm not. But even if you are right... what exactly do you have to lose, Smith? I can help you."
                              
Zach shuddered in response and hissed, "Get-away-from-me! Or I'll give you another black eye!"
                              
"Oh, sweetie... I let you have that one... but you try that again... and you won't like the... end... result," he purred, smiling at him suggestively.
                              
Zach didn't say anything back. He was so unnerved by the conversation that he practically ran away. Fawley, the obnoxious, homosexual twat that he was, scared him... a lot. He was rich, arguably the richest in the school. His father was a huge business owner, overseeing all manner of goods and services, from the Wizarding Wireless Network to a monopolizing hold on dragon and unicorn potion ingredients. He also owned the company that made Firebolts and Nimbuses. Plus, Fawley was a smart, cocky shit, too. He well-deserved his spot in Ravenclaw. 
                              
There was no out-dueling him and maybe no out-running him, either. Zach had no protection and no one to back him up, if he tried anything. He was shaking by the time he got back to his dorm room. He slipped into the loo to complete the business his curse hourly required of him and came back out. There was a letter on his bed. A letter that he was still gripping, nearly two hours later, as he watched Longbottom drag Potter to his room. Malfoy said that he was going to bed and also went up. Smith didn't say anything. He couldn't. Zabini was right there. He did his homework and waited.