1. First Impressions Are Always Bad

Sansa always liked to think of herself as a good girl. She strived to be the model student, coming home with good grades, being a member of most of the after-school clubs, and being the perfect daughter and sibling for her family (although Arya might disagree with this); she was lady through and through.

Growing up, she hardly ever was in trouble with her parents and never had a problem avoiding trouble and authority. While her siblings- Arya mostly- would receive lectures from their parents for trivial matters such as fights, she would always aim to be docile and resolve the matter, hating confrontation.

When she finally reached secondary school, she had most of her life planned out for the future. She would graduate with the highest awards and grades, go to one of the most prestige universities in the world, and hopefully she would find a man who was charming and handsome with whom she would fall in love with him, get married and have three kids later on in her career.

She would mention her plans to her family every chance she found; her father nodded while her mother smiled proudly, praising her ambitions. Not everyone appreciated this though. Arya would roll her eyes and joke about the type of boyfriend that she would have- a blonde snobbish brat with a stick shoved up his arse (Catelyn reprimanded her for that comment with a glare). Robb cracked his knuckles and while giving her a pointed stare, stating that he will meet her boyfriend before anything happens.

Sansa gave them both a dirty look.

Later on, during the moments of passion, she recognised her own naivety back then, remarking how young and inexperienced she was. Lying in bed, she let out a dark chuckle on how she believed her life would drift exactly the way she wanted it to. She could not be further from the truth.

With a glance at the strong arm, thrown across her waist, Sansa realised that falling for him did not fit into the typical ideal life she had for herself.

If only her family knew, how far she had strayed from her original plan.

3 months ago

The Literature class full of eighteen year olds, had only been one month into the school year when old Mr Pycelle's heart gave up. They figured it must have been the stress of educating eighteen year olds for the past thirty years, combined with the announcement that his retirement was officially another twenty years off. Lucky for him his heart restarted after about five minutes. Unfortunately (or fortunately in Sansa's case) he was wheeled off to receive surgery, thus the class were told they would receive a new teacher.

There were no complaints there.

Sansa never like the old man. There was a dark and pungent aroma that hung off him, reminding her of rotting death. She struggled not to grimace whenever he leaned near her desk to look at her work. She certainly was not sad to see him leave and hoped that his replacement would at least be a few years younger, and not wheeze out every sentence as if something was stuck in his throat.

Despite not likely the teacher, Sansa adored Literature. She had a particular preference for the old romance stories such as Jenny of Oldstones or Florian and Jonquil. The stories made her grasp onto the hope that maybe her love life would turn out as exciting and swoon worthy as the classics.

At the moment, Sansa did not feel very romantic as she stood in front of the bathroom mirror with a frown etched on her face, inspecting herself in the mirror, making sure her appearance was flawless. With a glimpse at her uniform, she smoothed out her blazer and skirt, breathing in deeply.

The school's standard requirement of a black skirt, white shirt with a striped blue tie combined with a blazer, clung to her body, highlighting her soft curves. The skirt was a few inches up her knees, much to her mother's shock (she had stared in horror when glancing at it for the first time).

Personally, Sansa liked the skirt as it allowed her to feel confident with her body. And her best friend, Margaery claimed it brought out her best part- her long legs. She remembered how her brother, Robb had given out a few black eyes for those whose eyes had wandered too far down her legs during her first year at the school.

With a final glimpse at the mirror, she grabbed her bag and shuffled out of the bathroom, almost running over a young boy who blushed when he met her eyes. She ceased his stuttering attempt to apologize with a small smile and strolled past, turning a corner into English- last lesson before lunch.

With a firm push of the old classroom door, she stepped inside, her eye already noticing her friend, Jeyne, sat in the back, next to her seat. She had her hand raised for a wave and her mouth open, ready for a greeting when she saw him.

At first, she thought he might be an exchange student, or even a student teacher, given how young he was. He was leaning against Mr Pycelle's desk, his arms crossed in a white checkered button up, with the sleeves were rolled to his forearms. Sansa dazedly observed the clenching arm muscles every time he shifted his weight. His legs, clad in black khaki pants, crossed at the ankles.

Drifting her eyes up to glance at his face, she noticed how young his features were. She estimated that he must be a few years older than her. His hair was dark and tied back. She briefly thought whether it felt as soft it looked if she was to run her hand through it. A jolt ran through her stomach, which she quickly dismissed, firmly establishing the feeling as inappropriate if her instincts was correct and he was the new teacher.

The man lifted his hand up to scratch at his beard while his mouth was set in a firm line, as if he was afraid anyone would say anything to doubt him. Her mind traitorously decided to remind her how good he looked, disregarding the notion that he might be the new teacher. His dark eyes swept the classroom, taking everything in. Including her.

He paused briefly, his eyes locked onto her blue ones, his expression unreadable. A shiver ran down her spine, while she stood frozen to the spot while clutching the edge of her black skirt tight in her hands. She willed herself to move, but it seemed as if her legs forgot to function under his stare.

At the back of her mind, Sansa wondered why the room had become silent all of a sudden and realised why as she glanced around, breaking the eye connection. They were watching her as she was stood on the spot, a few curious glances thrown her way, wondering why she was stuck on the spot like an idiot.

The silence seemed to jolt him out his daze as he stood up straight and cleared his throat loudly. He motioned for her to get to her seat while avoiding her gaze with a clenched jaw.

Sansa hurried over to Jeyne, hardly daring to look in his direction, keeping her eyes directly in front of her. She let out a breath of relief as she sat down. She had no idea why she acted the way she did noticing that the feeling was dangerous, making her feel out of control and less grounded. She felt- just a little bit- naughty, as his eyes meet hers.

Throwing her red locks over her shoulder, she settled back into her chair. She tugged on her school tie, pulling on the collar as she unknowingly felt hot all of a sudden.

Jeyne was already full steam into what she'd heard about the latest couple- how they'd met, what she'd been wearing, how long they'd been friends, how long it would last. Sansa listened with half an ear and listened to the new teacher with the other. He was introducing himself - writing it on the white board, not the smartboard – Mr Snow. A hush fell over the class as he started to speak, his voice deep with a northern accent. Sansa swallowed with difficulty.

"Ladies in the back," Mr Snow called out. "If you don't mind, I do have a lesson today."

Most of the class turned to look at them. Normally, Sansa would have given a weak smile and nodded, just like Jeyne was doing now. But today Sansa felt different which scared her.

"Sorry, Mr Snow. It won't happen again." Her voice came out smoothly with a subtle purr, making Mr Snow falter from his stoic expression. She saw a brief emotion flash in his eyes, too quick for Sansa to catch before moving on.

Her best friend, Margaery, a row away shot her a questioning look before turning around. Sansa did not know what to think. Confusion settled in her stomach. She had no idea why she acted the way she did. All she knew was that something was going to change this year. She just didn't know what.

"My name is Mr Snow and this is my first year as a teacher, so I don't know much about teaching a class full of eighteen year old students. And obviously you guys don't know me so let's get to know each other a bit today."

Beth Cassel, the girl who sat next to Sansa, shot her hand up quickly. "Can we ask you questions?"

Mr Snow looked surprised, but shrugged. "If you want."

"How old are you?" she asked swiftly, causing him to let out a smile.

"Twenty-two," he told her.

Sansa stared at him in surprise. She knew he was young but did not realise he was that young. The youngest teacher in her school was in their forties but this guy was only twenty- two. Did that mean he received a job fresh out of university?

"Are you single?" Loras Tyrell, a guy sitting in front asked, making the class erupt in laughter.

Mr Snow looked shocked for a minute, but then rearranged his features into a smile. "I am in fact single, also very much interested only in women."

Sansa noticed Loras looked slightly disappointed which quickly shifted into a smirk as Oliver, a blonde guy leaned over and whispered something in his ear.

She shifted her eyes forward, regretting the motion a second later as her gaze met Mr Snow's. He froze for a minute, staring at Sansa with the same unreadable expression as before. She blinked at him, and he quickly looked away. Confused, she lowered her gaze to the floor, a tingly feeling settling in her stomach.

"What's your first name?" another person asked.

"Jon, but none of you are allowed to call me that."

Jon Snow. A feeling of excitement ran through her body and she repeated the name in her head a few times, liking the way it sounded.

Sansa could not help but feel a little bit annoyed with the new teacher. It had only been a few minutes into the lesson and he was already disrupting her controlled emotions. She felt conflicted, with him or herself she was unable to answer.

The class continued to have a question and answer session with Mr Snow. Sansa observed that he was a kind and friendly person to converse with. He encouraged his students for their questions, rarely becoming annoyed with them. She knew this was a warm welcome in regards to most of the other teachers in the school, whom would look down upon students her age, speaking in a patronising tone towards them; he spoke to them as equals.

Despite this, he barely looked in Sansa's direction. His eyes would quickly drift to the next person, avoiding her gaze. She did not know why this grated on her nerves so much. Normally she could not care less whether or not Mr Pycelle picked her, but somehow Mr Snow easily irritated her through purposefully avoiding her.

Afterwards he handed out the course expectations and list of materials they would need for this year, and left the class to chat amongst ourselves. With a raised eyebrow Sansa, noticed the flock of girls who surrounded his desk, chatting to him animatedly. A shot of satisfaction ran through her, as she spotted his dislike in his situation, through the stiffness of his body but still kept a reasonably interested expression.

The clicking of heels in her direction, made her turn her eyes around to recognise Margaery approaching the evacuated desk next to her, and plop down in the seat with a smirk painted across her face. With a stretch of her legs Sansa turned to face her, sighing deeply.

"So, what do think about the new teacher? He's better than Pycelle at least," Margaery questioned with a raised eyebrow.

"I suppose he's okay as long as he does his job properly," Sansa casually shrugged.

"Even if he doesn't at least he's hot to look at. I mean I would not mind coming into school on a Monday and looking at him first thing," Margaery said with a coy grin, glancing in the teacher's direction.

"He's not that good looking," she rolled her eyes. It is only because he's the youngest teacher at this school." Sansa hoped she came across as disinterested as she fiddled with the edge of her blazer.

Margaery turned her head towards Sansa, narrowing her large brown eyes.

"Okay, either you have accidently become blind last night and is unable to actually see how hot he looks. Or you are clearly lying through your teeth because you do find him good looking but do not want to admit it to yourself."

Sansa prayed her flushed cheeks were not visible to her best friend.

"I'm just saying, he's old and not my type. Besides it is illegal for any student to fornicate in a relationship with him, no matter how hot you think he looks," Sansa pointed out.

The period soon ended with the ring of the bell, with the rest of the class filing out of the room. Sansa quickly folded her newly acquired papers into her bag as fast as she could, hoping to get out of the room first.

"I'm going ahead," Margaery told her, standing up. "I don't want to be late for the lunch queue otherwise I'll be caught up with the younger kids. I'll see you at our table."

"Wait!" Sansa hurriedly demanded as she tried to shove the rest of her things further into her bag. "Margaery!"

But Margaery barely heard her demand as she was out of the door while Sansa fought to quickly zip her bag up. She stood up in a rush and quickly hurried out to follow her best friend, only to trip over a desk leg. She landed flat on her face with a loud smack on the ground.

Red- faced, she pushed herself off the ground, freezing when she noticed Mr Snow kneeling next to her. She dazedly questioned to herself, how did he get here so fast?

"Are you okay," he questioned with furrowed eyebrows, sounding concerned.

She nodded stiffly towards him before standing up straight and trudging towards to exit. She hoped to all the Gods up in the sky that nobody with eyes had seen her little incident. If that wasn't the definition of embarrassing, then she did not know what was. She heard him chuckle to himself as she exited, her face still burning.

"Be more careful next time, Sansa."

She hated herself for thinking how good her name sounded, when said in his tone.

Author Notes

Hey, my name is Sara and this is the first time I have ever written for this paring. Yes, I have succumbed down the rabbit hole with this ship which has quite literally- taken over by life. I hope you enjoy reading this story, as much as I enjoy writing it.

Just a heads up. Grammar and punctuation are my weakest points so please excuses any errors I have put forth or point them out to me. Also constructive criticism is much appreciated.

Side note: I do not condone student- teacher relationships. The basis for this is purely fictional.