2. Nice Shirt, Sir

Growing up with one sibling is bad enough, but when you have four siblings in a house, chances are that it will most likely turn out to be a riot. Sansa loved her family, even if they drove her insane sometimes.

She drove up the narrow path towards her house. It stood at the end of the road, separate from all the others. You could have already seen from a far distance, it was a relatively large house. The door was placed in the centre of the brick house, a square window (divided into quarters) on each side of the door. It was simple from the outside but Sansa knew that it was the people inside that made it feel like home. Her father mentioned that the house had a name which our ancestors called- Winterfell.

She stepped out of the Cadillac, turned to close the door behind her, and ambled towards the faded red door with chipped paint. Reaching for her bag she took out a shiny key, slotting the object into the key hole, with a soft push, she stepped inside.

The aroma of lemon cakes and was the first thing she noticed, the overpowering smell hitting her face. Removing her blazer and folding it- just like her mother taught her- she placed it on the hanger, next to the door. Rolling her sleeves up to her wrist, she took a step forward, feeling her shoes brushing the soft rug while the smell of lemon cakes grew heavier as she approached the kitchen.

The smile on her face grew, spotting her mother sitting on one of the stools, near the kitchen counter, with a magazine placed in front of her. The sound of Sansa walking in, drew her eyes up to her daughter, a loving smile rising on her face.

"Hey, honey. Did you have a good day at school?" Closing the magazine, she turned to face her daughter.

Sansa nodded casually. "The same as always, I guess. Where's the others by the way?"

"Your brother's out in the back, with Theon. You just missed Bran, he's gone to Jojen's house and Arya still not back from school yet."

"What about Dad?" Sansa questions.

"Still at work. He's taking care of a tricky client."

Catelyn lets out a worried frown, pursing her lips.

"Speaking of tricky, when you see your sister, tell her I found Gendry's shirt lying around in her room when I was cleaning this morning. That's the second time I have found the boy's clothing there, so make sure you mention it to her."

Sansa grimaces, thinking of the reason why Gendry's shirt would be in Arya's room in the first place. Nodding towards her mother she says, "I'll tell when I see her."

Sansa knew her little sister would not obey with her mother's request. Gendry and she were a complicated duo to comprehend. There have been several instances in which the whole Stark family has teased Arya for her occasional trips to his house, or Arya dragging him for family vacations.

But there have also been even more claims from Arya, vehemently denying any notion of them being together, with a roll of her eyes.

Sansa knew from closely inspecting Gendry's face, by mentioning her sister, that he was head over heels in love with Arya. His face would light up, a smile threating to break across his face, blue eyes softening when talking about her.

She also knew that her sister was the most stubborn person she had ever come across of knowing, so she would deny her own feelings for him, hoping to ignore it for as long as possible. Sansa hoped she would own up to her obvious feelings and admit it to him. Letting out a soft sigh, she knew it would be horribly romantic, a classic ending- just like her romance stories.

That was the difference between Sansa and Arya, not just appearance wise. They both have very distinct personalities. The former is regarded as a princess by her family members, the latter-a tomboy much to Catelyn's disapproval. It is no surprise that they would have issues understanding and empathising with each other. They have little common ground, except their last name. Most of the vicious fights that occur within the house has been between the two of them.

But at the end of the day, both sisters knew they admired certain aspects of each other, even if they would not admit it out loud. When push comes to shove, everyone knew both of them could be very protective of each other.

Catelyn gives an adoring smile towards Sansa, "You're such as good girl, Sansa. Always doing what you are told. That also reminds me, I was hoping to catch one of you anyone because I want you to go introduce yourself to the new neighbour that has just moved in from across the road. She's very nice, judging from the meeting I had with her this morning."

Sansa gives an accepting nod, "Sure. Do you want me to take something for them?"

"Yes, take the apple pie on the counter, but be careful not to burn yourself because I've just took it out of the oven."

With a nod of the head, she bundles up the stairs towards her room, narrowly missing, bumping into her youngest brother Rickon, running around with his equally wild furry, four legged friend- Shaggydog.

"Rickon, be more careful where you are going," she snaps.

Looking up at her with wide blue eyes he mumbles, "Sorry, Sansa."

Being dubbed the 'Wild Wolf' of the family, Sansa's heart melted, unable to stay annoyed with him for too long.

"It's okay. Where are you off to in such a rush anyways."

"Robb promised he would take me to the park with him and Theon."

Narrowing her eyes, she said "Did he, now?"

After living in a house with her older brother for most of her younger life (before he left to move in with his girlfriend Talisa), it was safe to say that Sansa knew when her brother wanted to avoid certain situations, or in this case-meeting the new neighbours.

With a roll of her eyes, she made a mental note to speak to Robb later on, ditching her to deal with them alone. Trudging up to her room, she changed out of her school uniform into something much more comfortable- jeans and a sweater.

A few minutes later she found herself standing opposite a blue door, raising one hand up to knock, while the other was clutching an apple pie wrapped in a cloth. She heard soft footsteps from the other side, preparing herself with a wide smile on her face and a greeting on the tip of her tongue.

A beautiful woman opened the door, clad in an apron and bright yellow gloves. She had long brown hair, with warm grey eyes, staring at Sansa, at this moment with a curious but welcoming expression. Sansa instantly felt at ease in her presence.

"Hello, my name is Sansa Stark. I live across from you, and my family and I just wanted to welcome you into the neighbourhood. You must have met my mother this morning."

Lifting her hands up she motioned to the steaming pie that was still placed on a plate. "A simple courtesy from the Stark family."

Beaming, the woman waved her hand inside, motioning for Sansa to come in. "Of course, thank you very much. Come in, my name's Lyanna. Let me give you a piece of the pie. It would be rude of me not to offer you, given your kindness."

"Oh no, no, no I couldn't," she politely declined.

"Please, I insist. It's only me and my son who lives here and we cannot eat this by ourselves."

Sansa hesitated before grudgingly accepting the woman's offer. Her mother did say to become friendly with the new neighbours, so did not see any harm in it.

"My son is just coming home from work, he should be here in a few minutes. Would you like some tea, coffee or perhaps another drink?"

Sansa decided she liked this woman. "Just water please, ma'am."

Giving her a glass of water, the woman shook her head with a lazy grin, "Just call me Lyanna. I'm not old enough to be called ma'am just yet."

Lyanna was easy to converse with, Sansa discovered. She was outgoing, friendly and cared for her son fiercely. She was just about to leave, knowing her mother was wondering where she was when the front door opened.

With the turn of her head, Lyanna beamed at Sansa and declared, "That must be my son, come on I'll introduce you two. You'll get along."

Sansa curiously followed Lyanna down the hall, but the deep voice made her pause in her steps. Glancing at the figure in front of her in disbelief, she found lost for words.

You have got to be fucking kidding me. Of all the chances, she thought incredulously.

"Jon!" You're back. Come here I want to introduce you to our new neighbour. This is- "

"Sansa!" he was glancing at her with a raised eyebrow. "How fortunate to see you here."

Flushing, she blurted out "I brought pie."

His eyebrow raised even more. She could see a hint of amusement in his eyes.

Bastard.

She scowled. Sansa knew he was enjoying her embarrassment. Lyanna on the other hand just looked confused.

"What type of pie, Miss Stark?"

"Apple," she shortly retorted.

He shrugs. "It's not my favourite. Not tripping over chair legs then, I see."

"That was one time, and it was an accident," she narrows her eyes on his smirking face.

"And here I thought that you were falling head over heels."

Gritting her teeth, she could feel her dislike for Mr Snow growing. With a glower in his direction she said, "Excuse me, Lyanna. I've just remembered that I have to take my little brother to the park."

"Sure, dear." She said with furrowed eyebrows. "It was nice to meet you. I hope we'll see you again soon."

"We sure will," Jon drawled out with a twinkle of mirth in his eyes.

"I hope you enjoy the pie, Sir," she sweetly utters, walking away without a second glance in his direction.

Sansa did not like him.

Two weeks had passed and he had managed to get on every bad side of Sansa, so much so that she scowled and scoffed every time he talked in lessons. In contrast, he had most of the girls in the school raving about him, much to Sansa's disgust.

She knew he was purposefully ignoring her when she raised her hand to answer a question, choosing other people instead of her through the way he avoided her stare.

English was her strong subject. She was good at language, writing fluent words and phrases in her essays and stories. It developed from all her reading she had achieved when growing up. Despite this, Mr Snow, did not realise this talent, or was ignoring it, in Sansa's opinion.

Most of the essays she produced would get good marks but not perfect. She would look at the papers in disbelief after getting it back, staring at the nine out of ten, nineteen out of twenty or twenty-nine out of thirty.

She knew he marked her work like this on purpose because it annoyed her. She could see a smirk at the corner of his mouth, when she glared holes in his direction.

"It's still an A, Sansa," Jeyne would roll her eyes.

But to Sansa, it bothered her greatly, knowing it was not good enough. It was only one point that he did not give her, and that is why it was not perfect.

His name was the only feature she liked of him. Snow was her favourite season, reminding her home; feeling warmth from sitting in front of the fireplace, and the sound of childhood laughter resonating throughout the Stark household. She remembered her brother Robb, especially laying in the snow outside, snowflakes stuck on his auburn curls. The memory made her smile.

"Miss Stark?"

She jerked from her thoughts, focusing on the dark-haired man in front of her, calling out her name while staring intently at her.

"If you choose to make the decision to stop day dreaming in my lessons, then perhaps you'll be able to achieve the mark you so desperately desire in your essays."

A bunch of snickering from the students in the class made her blush red.

"I'm sorry, sir. It'll not happen again," she shuffled embarrassingly.

He gives a short nod. "See, that it doesn't."

Sansa just wanted to ignore him until she graduated, then she would never have to deal with him again by moving to another city for university. For now, she was forced to deal with him.

On his second day came in, declaring that the class would be scheduled new seats for the rest of the school year. The problem for Sansa was he had placed her on a table full of people she did not know. And so, she was stuck conversing with them when necessary, every conversation awkward and short.

There was Robin Arryn on the end of the table. He was a spoilt child who still dotted on his mother despite being eighteen years old. He was underweight and pale as if he never went outside for exercise or sunlight. He was interested in first person shooter video games that she was unable to name. He was weird but tolerable.

Ros was sat opposite her. She was a chain smoker who had sex in more positions that Sansa ever knew, and bragged about them during every lesson. Sansa did not understand how she managed this, and so assumed she was easy, leaving it at that. Ros was, in particular associated with Theon, (her brother's best friend) his name was said more times than Sansa cared to count. They mostly disregarded each other during these lessons.

The person who sat next to Ros was an overweight boy named, Sam who enjoyed English just as much as Sansa did. Despite being teased about his weight, she found him sweet, quiet and intelligent, allowing Sansa and him to bond over thoughtful discussions about their favourite books. Jeyne knew him because her friend Gilly had a crush on him. A notion, Sansa knew would make him blush red to his roots if he knew about it, as the crush was mutual on both sides.

Sansa, on the other hand, had no one sitting next to her at the beginning, until she consistently persuaded Mr Snow to move her friends, Jeyne and Margaery on her table so she would have someone decent to talk to about the work (Ros glared at her for her comment). He moved only Jeyne on the table, who sat next to Robin while Margaery stayed where she was.

The thing that confused and annoyed Sansa the most is that he sat five people on an eight-person table, while everyone else had the equal amount on their table.

He had also placed her on the front table, directly in the eye sight of his desk. Everyone knows that teachers place the naughty kids in the front in order to keep an eye on them.

Sansa did not understand why. She was not a naughty student, her essays were always submitted on time, she rarely arrived late to his lessons and did not go looking for trouble. She just knew that she could not stand Mr Snow and his smug face.

At home, she would rave heatedly about him to her family, until it got to the point when they were tire of her complaints.

But Sansa also knew that he was the only person in the school (apart from Sam) who understood her love for literature, which makes her even more irritated. That's the other feature she admired about him- his passionate nature about his subject. Other girls would admire his hair and beard, which Sansa secretly admitted that it suited him.

She often wondered how long he spent perfecting his beard and how it would feel against soft skin.

She often wondered what he would look like without a beard.

But then, she would get aggravated, wondering why the hell she spent so long wondering about Mr Snow when she could not stand him.

His shirts irritated her the most.

He only wore two button ups. A black one, plain and simple which she thought he wore deliberately to match his beard and hair which is also dark. The second one he wore was white, a shade of grey spread on the collar.

The day he walked in with a red shirt, it was safe to say, Sansa almost fainted.

She was sitting down on her table, waiting for him to walk in, while checking a text message from her mother on her phone. The sound of the door opening made her glance up and spot him, shuffling into the room with the new colour shirt on.

Her mouth dropped open, her eyes wide and disbelieving, shifting her head round to see if anyone had spotted it. Everyone was oblivious, causing Sansa to tap Jeyne on the shoulder.

She curiously glimpses at Sansa's shocked face, "What is it?"

"Look at Mr Snow, he's wearing a new shirt today."

Jeyne give a slow blink. "So?"

"What you mean so! He wears only two shirts every single day, the white and the black. And today he had just come in with a different colour shirt. Why are you not surprised?" she demands waving her hands around.

"Sansa, you are the only person who cares about that," Jeyne rolls her eyes. She sly smirk appears on her face. "Maybe you have a crush on the teacher."

Sansa cross her arms. "Don't joke about that. Beside he's not my type. He owns only two pairs of shirts. I could never be with someone like that."

Mr Snow at that point decides to join the table. "What could you never do, Sansa?"

"Nothing, sir." She sweetly smiles at him.

"Well in that case, take out your book and answer the questions I've just put on the board, which you would have seen if you were not too busy chatting."

Abruptly closing her mouth, Sansa nodded. She paused briefly, looking at the shirt in front of her. "That's a nice shirt, you're wearing, sir."

Mr Snow falters for a second, looking astonished before smiling softly. "Thank you, Sansa." He walked away to help a kid in the back with his hand raised.

"You were so flirting with him just then," Jeyne states a coy grin spread against her face.

Sansa rolls her eyes and scoffs. "Don't be stupid, that's just…wrong." She struggled to find the correct word for a second.

It was not as if she loathed the idea of being with an older man. Most of her celebrity crushes were on older men. People like Henry Cavill, Colin Firth and Hugh Grant made her stomach do cartwheels whenever she watched their movies. Just the other day, she was gushing about how charming a young Colin Firth is to Margaery on the phone.

So, she knew she did not have a problem with older men.

"It may be wrong but even you have to admit that older men- "

"Sansa, Jeyne. Will you please stop talking about irrelevant subjects and get on with the work," Mr Snow exasperatedly demands.

With a sigh, they both quieten down and try to answer the question on the board- 'What do you think is the most significant scene from the play and why?'

Sansa gives out a small scoff. She knew that his teaching methods would be uncreative and monotonous. He was a textbook teacher, choosing questions from the book rather than making it up.

Letting out a groan, she begins to answer the questions. She finished a few minutes away from the bell ringing, closing her book to the front cover. This catches the attention of Mr Snow who comes over to their table to inspect what work they have done.

Sansa picks up her pen, chewing at the end of it, while crossing her legs one over the other. Mr Snow looks up from Sam's work, catching her eye. She sees him pause briefly, his eyes darkening for a second before he looks away, his eyes focusing intently on the work in front of him.

Sansa's stomach unknowingly clenches. Confused she drops her gaze, her cheeks burning. Annoyance builds up inside her body. She did not know why he changed his shirt, only that it made her mind jumbled on the fact that he looked good in it. Especially as it clung tight to his body, bringing out his dark eyes even more.

Dismissing her thoughts, she concentrated on Mr Snow's final messages for the lesson. He wrote two names on the white board of those who are 'hard workers' for the week. This week he wrote up the names of a boy nicknamed, 'Hot Pie' and a girl called Myranda.

Sansa could not help but feel disappointed. She knew she contributed to every lesson just as this one, so she did not know why he did not put her name up just as the others.

When the bell rang, she waited until everyone left the room and approached him while he was packing his things up in a messenger bag.

"Why am I not a hard worker," she blurts out indignantly.

Mr Snow rolls his eyes, pointing out, "Because you were too busy chatting to Jeyne, Sansa."

Huffing she accepts his answer and walks out of the room. She was going to get her name up on that board if it was the last thing she did. With her resolve strengthening, she spotted Margaery leaning against the wall, waiting for her outside.

She did not like the smirk written across her face, as if she knew where a dead body was hidden and nobody else did.

Sighing, Sansa dryly states, "Stop smirking, Margaery. What is it?"

"He was so looking at you when you came out."

Glaring she claims, "I could not care less."

Secretly, Margaery's declaration made her feel delighted for some reason. Mentally shrugging, she just put it down to the new shirt he was probably wearing.

Author Notes

And, that was the second chapter for this story. Poor Sansa, in denial of her feelings. Her confusion stems from the fact that she knows it's wrong to like her teacher but just has not realised these feelings, making her annoyed with him. But what do you think Jon must me sensing right this instance?

Thank very much for those who reviewed and followed. I did not expect that many reviews, so keeping them coming. It gives me gratification to know that people are enjoying my story, and helps me improve my writing.

If you have any ideas to contribute to the story, then please feel free to leave a review or just message me.

Thanks for reading!