A/N: To defend my recent decision to make Littlefinger the headmaster, I know he's a paedophile and everything, but I think his manipulative, biased, untrustworthy and just generally corrupt behaviour actually sometimes reminds me of teachers I've had in the past, who had very definite "favourite" students and would use even the smallest things you did wrong against you in the long-term. So I sort of based the version of Petyr who appears in this story partly on them. I don't know if that's just me who's had that experience, but I thought it would be interesting to explore him in that position. Anyway, I hope that decision isn't too unpopular, and enjoy the next chapter!

Chapter 5

Robb POV

Most of Iron Throne High is sterile, with cleaners coming in every day after school to scrub the tiles and dust off the bookshelves, and with minimal decoration, apart from perhaps a few star essay papers pinned discreetly on the walls. Mr Baelish's office is different, though. The whole place has a musty smell and an almost secretive air about it, as if we only know half of what goes on it that room. Where most teachers choose metal or plastic, Mr Baelish chooses mahogany. And metal or plastic would look out-of-place, considering the sort of man he is. Most adults I've met say things in simple ways, in ways you can always see through, and decipher what they really mean. Mr Baelish, however, possesses an insane talent for hiding truths in cryptic sentences, so that you only realise what he was actually trying to tell you after it's too late.

"Stark, Robb," Mr Baelish says upon my entrance, not looking up from the file he's reading from. "That's a name I don't often hear in this room." Other people have at least a hint of pride towards me in their voices when they say things like this to me, but if there's anything I can read in my headmaster's tone, it's resentment, and perhaps a slight cruel smirk.

"I try to keep a good record, Sir," I say, trying not to falter, trying not to appear speechless in front of a man so eager to take advantage.

"You seemed to have failed on that target today, Stark." These words come from a high-pitched, slippery voice belonging to Mr Varys. He, along with another teacher named Mr Pycelle, is almost always seen flanking Mr Baelish, but I've never been sure exactly what the two of them do, apart from make fairly useless sarcastic comments like that one. I've always imagined them as somewhere between secretary and bodyguard.

"Mr Varys is right. I would ask you to take me through what happened today, as is protocol, but in your case it's fairly obvious. You get in a huff and decide to beat up a kid in the hallways. Said kid happens to have a bit of a reputation for getting his way, and even more dangerous for you, a band of unwaveringly loyal henchmen. Said henchmen crowd around to watch your little skirmish, word gets around to me, and that word, of course, is in Joffrey's favour. I then call you to my office and suspend you on grounds of fighting."

This time, I actually am speechless, and I can't think of any curt comment to work my way out of the silence. Another of Mr Baelish's talents is always having the last word. It's after several moments of deafening silence and challenging glares from the three teachers that I hear a knock at the door.

"Come in, come in!" calls Mr Baelish with a note of sarcasm. "I like to stick to my one-at-a-time policy, but you may have some fairly articulate and interesting sentences coming out of your mouth, unlike the Stark kid here. I need some distractions from the matter at hand."

"It's not a distraction, Sir." A new voice says, entering the room. I swear I know that voice, but I can't place it, because whoever's it is, they don't use it very often.

"It's still on the matter at hand. I've come to defend Robb."

Daenerys POV

"Ah, vouching for your friend, huh? I've heard that one before. Even sometimes with bribery involved, if it's the Lannisters." Mr Baelish says in a tone I'd like to record and play back if I ever feel like throwing up my dinner.

"He's not my friend." I reply through gritted teeth. If someone were watching this scene out of context, they'd assume my tone was out of anger from being considered Robb's friend. It's more out of annoyance, that our headmaster cannot be bothered even for a moment to take me seriously.

"She's right," Robb pipes up, "We've barely even spoken before." His bluish-grey eyes look up at me in hope, and I fervently wish Mr Baelish would decide to listen to me for long enough to hear me out.

"You two would both have much more opportunities to voice whatever your irrelevant, teenage thoughts might be on the matter, could I find enough naïvety inside of me to trust you." This time, I let out an audible sigh.

He rolls his eyes. "Fine, fine. I see you're the persistent type, Miss Targaryen. You have two minutes. Jump to your little pal's defence. Take one for the team, or whatever your generation calls it."

I clear my throat. Mr Baelish won't listen to me, I'm sure, but Robb should know I tried. "I have reason to believe that Robb was provoked. He wouldn't just do something like that for the fun of it."

"Too sentimental," Mr Baelish says snidely, "Cut to the chase."

"Well, you see– " I falter a second. I hadn't much thought about what to say at this point. "I saw Robb with Joffrey a couple of weeks ago. They didn't look to be the best of friends, you might say, to put it lightly." I'm stumbling again. "And I heard him talking to Theon Greyjoy. I didn't hear much, because I don't like to eavesdrop, Sir, but I heard Joffrey's name once or twice and, um, some bad things. Joffrey has done something to make Robb do…what he did." I hope Robb will go along with my lies. He's a Stark, and they like telling the truth, but he has to see that the honourable thing in this situation is to condemn the one clearly in the wrong, Joffrey. He HAS to.

"That's interesting, Miss Targaryen. It adds a whole new dimension to the matter. A suspension now would be like saying this matter is sufficiently unexciting to not require further investigation. Robb, you are not off the hook. Far, far from it. But what we have here is perhaps more than it seems. You are both temporarily excused, but expect to see me again in the near future." Robb looks like he's seen a ghost, and I can't blame him. But at least he hasn't called me out as a liar.

I cannot speak. I cannot breathe. I saved someone's future, and it was someone I barely knew. And I don't regret it.