The rumours were all over the place, and Terence had even seen it: the snake, and the boy looking at it, horrified, his voice breaking as he said, "What are you playing at?" It had been pathetic, actually, but Terence had a reputation to uphold.

"Don't like snakes, do you?" he hissed later, his hands catching in the black-and-yellow wool of Finch-Fletchley's scarf. The boy's eyes were wide, and his lips trembling. Terence sneered.

"I'll give you something to be scared of," he said, and when he kissed him, Terence could taste fear. Finch-Fletchley must have known what was coming.

 

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