The House Master

Dracula

The next day, Adrian returns to school alongside Vincent. Whispers and side-glances reverberate around the main hall, everyone having heard about Adrian's upcoming trial. A gruelling task befalls him today as a prefect - addressing the Year 7 and Year 8 students in assembly. This would be torturous enough if it was a normal assembly, but he's being forced to stand in front of a bunch of eleven and twelve year olds to, in his teacher's words, "give them a talking to," about the litter by the riverbank. That is not only torturous, but boring and torturous.

That'll label Adrian as even more a social pariah. Sitting in the common room, he taps his pen on the page he's using to write the script of his speech. "Diedrich, you're a prefect - what do you say for these kinds of things?"

Crossing his slender legs, Diedrich sneers across the table at him in disdain. "Thankfully, I haven't had to talk to my House about litter. Green Lion understands how to respect our town,"

"Oh bleh bleh bleh!" Adrian makes Dracula faces to annoy Diedrich and it works, the taller boy huffs and scowls at the floor like a child.

Adrian turns to Vincent for help. "Well? You're the one 'in control' here, what should I say?"

Vincent takes the paper into his hands and softly lays the pen on the first line. "While I'd love to watch you squirm some more trying to write, this isn't productive. Your script should reflect your House, so no garble about respect or dignity or the school's reputation - the kids won't respond to that. We'll take the angle of avoiding trouble for petty things. Make them understand how foolish it is to be banned from using the riverbank path just because they litter,"

Vincent begins to write. A sudden shooting pain, like a drill through his skull, buries itself in Adrian's brain. On instinct, he hisses and grips his hair.

"Are you alright?" Diedrich gasps, startled.

"Mmm head hurts..." Adrian rubs his temples.

Vincent bites his lip but focuses on the speech, something that comes easy to him. He'd be the perfect ghost writer for politicians' speeches: an expert of the human psyche and manipulation. He would control the voting populous not with propaganda, but with clever wordplay and the subtlest of psychological dismantlement. His talent is wasted on the children of Sapphire Owl.

He's barely finished the speech when the bell rings and he hands the paper to his boyfriend with a wink. "Good luck,"

Adrian rolls his eyes as they trot off to business and he downstairs to the assembly hall. Hanging by the table with the teachers, they watch the youngest of the school filter in and take up the seats. Seeing two yeargroups sitting together makes Adrian appreciate how truly large the assembly hall is, even if it doesn't look that way.

The headmaster introduces him and, with a dull ache over his entire body, Adrian takes to the podium. "Ahem," he clears his throat and begins to recite Vincent's speech.

Hello, my name is Adrian Spears and as some of you may know, I'm the new prefect for Sapphire Owl. It has come to my attention that-

Adrian frowns as the next line contains a stage direction: (babble on about litter until someone disrupts you)

"Uh... that a member of the public has reported a lot of litter on the canal path, being dropped by students wearing the Sapphire Owl colours..." he continues to the unimpressed students.