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Jon didn’t think.
Didn’t even as much as hesitate.
The moment he saw Myranda point her wand in Sansa’s direction, her mouth framing what he was sure was an “Evanseco” he dropped his books, dove and got on all fours just barely catching Sansa from falling.
Sansa almost dropped her books as she tried to steady herself on her suddenly unsteady seat. Bloody hell. Not again. She sighed and prepared herself to raise her brow at Myranda and her vapid friends, who, for some reason, had it in their life mission to humiliate her as much as possible ever since she rejected joining their group…among other silly things.
But when she looked at them, their faces held a look of surprise that morphed into…something that looked a cross between annoyance and wistful. Wistful? She thought to herself. Whatever fo–she gasped when she felt her seat move, causing her to reach her hand back and grab the back of her seat but when her hand was clutching something that was definitely not the expected wood of the chair and definitely something that didn’t yelp, she finally understood, to her embarrassment, why the girls would look at her that way.
Beneath her was the Gryffindor seeker, Head Boy, and not to mention, the fittest seventh year wizard Sansa’s ever seen… on all fours… smiling sheepishly at her, his cheeks red - and she was still sitting on Jon Snow’s back, her hand still holding Jon Snow’s–
Sansa immediately stood up, mortified, holding her hand out to him “Merlin’s beard! I’m so sorry Jon! Here, let me help you up.”
Jon just chuckled and grinned at her, accepting her hand and letting Sansa help him up even though he knew she didn’t really need to.
“Are you okay?” he asked, while Sansa felt his thumb stroking the back of her hand, sending shivers all over her body.
“I should be asking you the same! I mean, I sat on you and I-I,” she bit her lip to stop her from saying and I grabbed your ass. Your very nice ass.
Jon just smiled at her and ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head and rubbing her hand that was still in his own. “It’s not a problem, really.” He frowned and glared at Myranda then. “I saw what they were about to do and a fall like that could really hurt your as–er, um, bum.”
Sansa blushed but before she could answer, someone spoke from behind her.
“So you made like a human chair, instead of…I don’t know, whipping out your wand…?”
Sansa turned and saw Margaery smirking at Jon while raising a brow causing Jon to slap his forehead. “Well bloody hell. I suppose. But I–I saw what they were about to do and I didn’t think. I just didn’t want Sansa to get hurt.” He glared at Myranda and her friends then, causing the former to scoff, roll her eyes and call her friends to get to their seat.
When he turned back to face Sansa, his heart raced to see her incredibly close to him and flashing him the loveliest smile he’s ever had the fortune to witness.
He felt a squeeze and realized they were still holding hands and the next thing he knew was the feel of Sansa’s soft lips on his cheek that was gone too soon.
“Thank you Jon.”
“My-my pleasure,” he barely replied.
“And don’t beat yourself off about not using magic to save me. It’s…actually, it’s really sweet, what you did. Reckless, but effective. I hope I didn’t hurt your back.”
Her smile made him braver as he shook his head. “Of course not. And I’ll glady be your very own human chair, anytime.” He winked. Or at least, thought he winked. Fuck me. I’m ruining it.
Sansa giggled then raised her brow, biting her lip again, driving Jon absolutely mad. “Anytime?” she asked.
Wait, was she?
Jon grinned and nodded. “Yes, anytime.”
Sansa looked to Margaery again who gave her an encouraging nod. And the next thing he knew he was being lead and shoved playfully on a chair with Sansa perching on his lap.
“Then…now?” she asked, her hands twining around his neck.
Fuck yes, NOW. Jon thought, his hands wrapping themselves around her waist in answer.
“My very own human chair,” Sansa giggled, her hand playing with his curls before showing her gratitude by leaning down and kissing him, with Jon kissing back at once and with fervor.
When they pulled away finally, Sansa, still holding on to Jon and panting, looked over her shoulder and called out to Myranda. “I guess I should thank you Myranda. You saved me from sitting on a very dull seat. How did you know I’d get the best seat after?”
“Oh would you just apparate in a dinky broom closet somewhere. You two are disgusting,” Myranda spat and rolled her eyes at them.
Jon raised a brow at Sansa expectantly when she looked back at him earning him a smack on the chest and another lovely blush.
“What? It was a good suggestion,” he shrugged and feeling incredibly braver, he thought to hell with it and suggested something…more. “And I could…show you my lap or back isn’t the only place you can sit on,” he whispered, delighting in the flush that crept on Sansa’s cheek and down her neck.
But before Sansa could answer, he whipped his wand out and shouted “Expeliarmus!”
The sound of a wand dropping and a gasp was heard and a thud.
Though Jon was able to disarm Myranda, Myranda’s spell still hit Jon…transfiguring him into an actual chair.
Sansa’s wand was out at once but Margaery stopped her. “I’ll handle this troll, you take care of Jon there.”
Sansa nodded gratefully before transfiguring Jon back, her hands flying to his face. “I’m so sorry! Are you okay?”
Jon chuckled. “I’m mad but I’m also amused that she literally turned me into a chair. Not bad.”
Sansa sighed in relief before helping him up again…then tugging him out the door, Jon following eagerly.
“Where are we going?”
“I think as much as I’d like to bring my new chair home, I’d love to see…the whole set inside of the Head Boy’s room.”
Jon gaped at her before shifting into a winning grin, stopping them from running and preparing to side-apparate Sansa into his room.
Who knew being a damn chair would get him the girl?