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15. Suspicion

The monotone buzz of several-hundred voices hummed like an orchestra of deadbeat droids. The voices of the students in the courtyard flew over her head, as she blinked down at the book she currently gripped in her hands, and yet- she could barely concentrate; her eyes repeatedly scanning over words for several minutes.

Her stomach was a pit of nerves as she woke up this morning. How are we going to do this? I feel like I'm going to be sick. She purses her lips, firmly staring at the black printed ink in front of her.

"What's wrong, Sansa? Why do you look so troubled? Something happen to your favourite character?" a voice teased, the suddenness of it, breaking Sansa out of her thoughts.

Sansa broke out of her trance, her head snapped up to glimpse at the intruder. Her best friend Margaery stood in front of the wooden school bench- Sansa was currently perched on- with an amused expression.

"Oh, hey Margaery," she greeted tiredly.

Margaery frowned at the half- hearted greeting. "What's wrong with you? Did you not get enough sleep or something? Too busy studying?"

Margaery was half right at least. Sansa could feel her headache- that appeared this morning- throbbing each second that passed, increasing her irritation levels.

"Something like that…" she shrugged in reply.

"Sansa, you barely look as if you brushed your hair this morning," Margaery peered closely at her.

"Hmm, oh… do I really look that bad this morning?" Sansa frowned worriedly, sitting up in alarm as she wondered about her appearance; in the process, she reached out to grab her school bag beside her as she looked for her mirror.

Margaery eyed her friend in worry, her behaviour becoming more unusual than ever. "Sansa, what's wrong? Are you okay?"

Sansa barely looked up from her school bag she was currently going through, scowling as she realised that she probably forgot to put her mirror in her bag this morning. Too busy worrying, that's why.

"Great… now I've forgotten my mirror and hair brush," she grits her teeth angrily, giving up her search.

"Hey. It's okay," Margaery soothed her, removing her own bag from her shoulder and taking a seat next to Sansa. "It's okay, Sansa. Here, you can use mine." She took out her own mirror and brush, handing it out to a weary Sansa who gave her a thankful glance.

Sansa reached out to take the objects, feeling emotionally drained all of a sudden. "Thank you, Margaery," she sighed.

Margaery nodded comfortingly. She contemplated on how she was going to approach this. "Sansa. Are you sure that you're okay? You can come to me with anything you're worried about, you know that," she pointed out slowly, focusing her doe eyes intently on Sansa's expression.

Sansa sighs jadedly, running her hands over her face. "I know, Margaery. I'm sorry for being so out of it, I guess."

Margaery narrows her eyes. "It's okay. We're all have our bad days. Is it to do with your family? Is it Robb?" she asked softly, not wanting to trigger her friend into tears.

Sansa was silence for a second before speaking. "No…well…not really," she answered vaguely, making Margaery furrow her eyebrows in confusion.

"Oh?"

"It's probably just the stress that's getting to me. I mean it is the last year before university," Sansa glances at Margaery from the corner of her eye.

Margaery looked at her for a few seconds, not utterly convinced with her answer but chose to let it go. Sansa fought the urge to squire nervously in her seat, her fists tightly clenched around the handle of the brush and mirror.

Margaery lets out a sigh before plastering a soft smile on her face. "You work too hard, sweet girl. Make sure you don't tire yourself out from studying too hard," giving Sansa a pointed look.

Sansa nods in acceptance. "I won't, don't worry. You know how I am when it comes to studying," she let out convincingly.

Too convincingly in Margaery's opinion. However, she did not want to distress her friend any longer than she had to and so changed the subject, wanting to take Sansa's mind off of her problem. She knew that something was happening in her friend's life that had caused her act quite pellicular these past few weeks, as Margaery had noticed. Sansa acted weird nowadays, as if there was something on her mind; she just didn't know what. And with that thought, Margaery made a metal note to herself, vowing to keep a closer eye on her best friend.

She sat up straight, peering intently at Sansa while giving her a half smile. "So then, how's Robb by the way? What day is he moving back?" she asked.

"Robb's the same oblivious person he's always been. Nothing's changed about him," Sansa rolled her eyes playfully before taking on a disheartened expression. "He's going back next week."

Margaery gave her a sympathetic look. "That's tough. I couldn't imagine being aware from my brothers for that long," she took on a thoughtful gaze.

"That's because your grandmother would drag them back by the ear if they were gone for so long," Sansa laughed.

Margaery was glad Sansa did not look troubled any longer. She let out a smirk in reply. "Personally, I feel as if she wouldn't mind if Loras disappeared for so long. Calls him a great blithering fool just like my father. I think those were her exact words."

Sansa snorts in reply before Margaery spoke again.

"By the way, Willas was asking about you recently," she pointed out.

"Oh, he was…"

"Yes, he said that he doesn't see us around his coffee shop any longer. I told him it was because you were busy with studying and all," Margaery raised a sculpted eyebrow, observing how her friend shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

Sansa was silent for a few seconds before speaking. "Well…we should go soon. I haven't seen Willas in forever and we could bring Jeyne as well," Sansa suggested.

"So, Jeyne can flirt outrageously with my older brother," said Margery dryly.

"You know what I mean," Sansa gives her a pointed glance.

Margaery nods in acceptance. "Yes, what about the day after tomorrow? We can even make it a study session. You can take all the books you want to," she encouraged.

"Studying with both you and Jeyne hasn't worked so well in the past," Sansa rolled her eyes in exasperation.

"It wasn't out fault," she defended.

"Yes, I'm sure playing music very loudly in a library wasn't your fault," she deadpans.

"Look, I promise we'll try harder this time. We haven't hung out in a long time and… I just miss my best friend that's all," Margaery said truthfully.

Sansa sighs, her resolve weakening. "Okay fine. We'll go, but keep in mind that I'm only going for the coffee that Willas makes."

Margaery smirked knowingly. "Whatever you say, Sansa. Now come on, there's a few minutes left before class, and I want to show you the guy that Jeyne's been crushing on," she stood up from the bench.

Sansa raised an eyebrow. "Didn't she already show us already? That guy in the year below us?"

"No, she got over him pretty quickly. She's crushing on someone different now. Some football player," Margaery shoved her hands into her coat pocket and waited for Sansa to get up from the bench.

Sansa let out a small smirk, grabbing her bag, placing the bag inside and swinging it over her shoulder as she stood up.

"Come on then. Show me who he is."

Jon picked the coffee up from on the staff room table with tight pursed lips. He had been expecting enough heat to bring him out of his winter slumber but instead it was tepid like old bath water. He winced as he took a sip- it was overly bitter and lacking real cream. But, it was a source of caffeine though and so he drank like a sailor new to whiskey.

With a sigh, he put the mug down on the table and picked up his book. However, before he could actually open the book, he was interrupted by a voice that made him want to groan out loud- he resisted the urge.

"Jon, I was hoping to come across you actually," the voice of Melisandre came close to his ear, he fought the urge of scowl at her face- his mother did teach him to be respectful to all women.

"Melisandre. Did you want something from me?" he asked shortly, not wanting to long out the conversation between them.

Despite mostly being oblivious to the desires and wants of women, Jon was no fool in noticing that Melisandre was interested in him. But, no matter how much he had hinted to her that he was not interested, she never really seemed to care- always making up an excuse to talk to him or finding subtle ways to touch his arm or hand. Her mere presence seemed to buzz around him like a fly that you can never swat. Every word, movement and breath she performed seemed to infuriate Jon to no end.

"Yes. Principal Mormont wanted me to hand out these letters to each teacher, for them to give to the students," she peers at him, handing over a handful of sheets towards him.

"Just leave them on the table," he motions with a wave of his hand. "Thank you," he considered as an overthought.

"You're welcome, Jon," she simply stated, still not moving from her position in front of him.

Jon shifted uncomfortably, clenching his teeth slightly as he fought the urge to tell her to get lost. He hated the way the red woman said his name, almost as if she thought she was being seductive. If Jon wasn't head over heels for a certain red head, he might have found Melisandre's advances flattering; but at this moment he had to restraint himself from glaring darkly at her.

He glanced up with a raised eyebrow. "Was there something else?"

Melisandre paused for a few seconds before opening her mouth to say something. However, before she could say anything, a booming sound echoed throughout the staffroom. Most of the other teachers in the staff room peered over their coffee mugs to shoot dirty looks at a certain bearded man.

"SNOW!"

Jon had never been so happy to see Tormund in his entire life as he bundled over towards him from across the room. Melisandre gave Tormund a disgruntled expression and turned around to walk back towards the other teachers. Letting out a sigh of relief, Jon turns his head towards Tormund's amused expression, giving him a look of gratefulness.

"Did I catch you at a bad time, Snow?" he asked gruffly.

Jon rolls his eyes. "Don't start, Tormund."

"Hey, it's not my fault that the red woman wants to touch your pretty face," the gruff man smirked.

Jon frowns at him. "My face is not pretty," he reaches out a hand to pat his hair down.

"Your face is prettier than both my daughters combined. What's the matter with the woman anyways? She got red hair, hasn't she? Just your type" Tormund cackles.

Jon scowls at him. "She's not my type," he snapped.

Tormund peered at him curiously. "What's the matter with you, pretty boy? You on your monthly?" he teased.

Jon sighed inwardly. He liked Tormund, he really did, but sometimes the man was too crude and made fun at his expense. But, he was the only person who he felt comfortable around in the school. Despite the man's blunt and crude nature, Tormund did have a good heart and just wanted his students to do well.

"Nothing's the matter, Tormund," he rolled his eyes in exasperation.

Tormund beamed in reply, approaching the seat next to Jon and throwing an arm around his shoulders, much to Jon's utter embarrassment.

"Oh, lighten up, Snow. No need to be such a gloomy bastard all the time. Especially not with so many beautiful women in the world," he laughs out loud.

Jon scrunched up his face, and reached out to remove Tormund's arm from his shoulders. "I'll take your word for it."

Jon's mind couldn't help but drift from Tormund's words. There certainly is a beautiful woman in the world. He smiled softly to himself and sighed internally, and possibly externally because Tormund gave him a confused glance. He was spared from the gruff man making a comment as the bell ran at that moment.

Jon stood up from his seat. "Well, you heard the bell. I have a class to teach."

He nodded goodbye to Tormund and walked out of the door, shoving his hands in his trouser pockets as he walked.

"Remember guys to read chapters five and six for next week. And do not just read the chapter summary from cliff notes," Jon warned the students currently walking out of his classroom.

After the last few students left, he was the last person left. Picking up the cloth and cleaning spray, he started to wipe away the remaining pen marks left on the whiteboard. His brain decided to remind him of the last time he was in a situation like this.

Sansa's legs were all he could think about for the next few days, and how it looked when she stretched on the chair to wipe the top part of the whiteboard. It seemed as if whatever he did, his mind always decided to remind him of Sansa. Not that he minded.

The sound of his classroom door opening made him snap his head around, and smile softly at person whose thoughts just occupied his mind a second ago. However, the smile slowly slid off Jon's face as he noticed her troubled expression.

Meanwhile the figure in the school hallway, narrowed their large brown eyes dangerously as they leaned against the wall.