I have no explanation for this other than yelling "HIGH SCHOOL AUUUUU" and pointing out that there will be references to the movies/shows, but otherwise no dragons, they're HS seniors so 17/18, and... yeah no, that's it, that's all I have.

Disclaimer: Still don't own the HTTYD franchise. Still bummed about it.

On a scale from 1 to 10, Astrid Hofferson was an 11... on the Stressed-Out-O-Meter.

Certain things in the wild, wild world that is public school should never happen. A rather large sum of things, really, though for the purposes needed herein there are only three to be remembered:

- That she, Astrid Hofferson, Class President, was never to be on a teacher's bad side. Ever.

- That she, too, would stay captain of the lacrosse team unless outmatched talent-wise. Never because of grades.

- And that, as a Hofferson, she would never, under any circumstances, have to be tutored.

Needless to say, the second she failed to fulfill the first bullet point a heavy panic befell her. We're talking full out "MY FUTURE IS RUINED" freak out. It was so heavy, in fact, that she had even asked Rachel "Ruffnut" Thorston to cover for her at practice while she was off begging Mr. Herder to not have her kicked out of the school.

Ruffnut. Thorston.

Cover for her.

At lacrosse practice.

They may have been best friends, but this was the same half of a pair who thought it necessary to subject herself and her twin's legs to a dip in the piranha pool on the last school trip. (How those two survived past their childhood eluded her-they'd grown up testing the edibility of most chewable objects in their daycare.)

Astrid sincerely hoped the overripe and destructively moody AP Chemistry teacher had even a speck of goodness in his hopefully-existent soul. Mildew Herder was not a good man to go up against-though he made it quite enjoyable to stay on the other side of the proverbial fence-if "quite" meant "it's-like-heaven-on-earth-here". That still didn't mean the accident was her fault, though.

And it's not like the fire was that bad, honestly, and she conceded to preferring the blaze over his sorry excuse for a lecture on something like bonding molecules, or whatever. (Herder's class was essentially fifteen students staring at a blank board and mastering the art of zoning out without getting caught. It was, as Astrid had once said to Frank-Fishlegs, "The perfect time to learn how to sleep with your eyes open.")

Besides, what kind of well-educated human being who was put in charge of an AP class put dangerously flammable chemicals right next to the room's heater? The thing was known to bust up and leak. It also happened to block the doorway. It's almost like he wanted someone to trip it up.

Astrid sighed. Really, remembering it now, she was mostly just grateful someone had seen the stupid thing start leaking again and shoved her back out the door. She'd looked back right away to thank the stranger, but the hallway was full of students, and the fire had already begun.

Well, whoever you are, Astrid thought to herself. Thanks for saving my life. Too bad I'm gonna go lose it again when my parents find out.

She groaned outwardly, facepalming herself in the almost-empty hallway as she headed to the principal's office. "They're going to kill me. Then they'll bring me back to life for a lecture and kill me again."

"Astrid?"

She turned. The weak, nasally voice had come out from the school's resident "loser-nerd" (Sonny "Snotlout" Jorgenson had dubbed him that-which, Astrid recalled, had been extra cruel at the time, since the lanky little boy had just learned that his nickname had already alluded to the fact that he was inferior in all possible ways). Hiccup shifted weight from one leg to another, clearly a little uncomfortable.

"Oh," was all Astrid could say. "Hi?"

"I just-" He looked around nervously, as if he could sense the mental judging from the other handful of people mulling around. It was weird to see him like this, considering he was usually light-hearted and sarcastic. He seemed... concerned, almost. His messy brown hair flopped around and he dug his hands into his pockets, finally looking her in the eye. "I just wanted to ask if you were okay?"

She kept a straight face. As much as she wasn't one to conform to the invisible rules of social classes in her school, it was, well, Hiccup. "Bad Idea" Hiccup. "Fantasy Nerd" Hiccup. Hiccup the Mess Up.

She'd called him something very different in her own mind, though-he was Henry "Hiccup" H. Haddock III, the best artist in her grade with the brain that stored information the way Fishlegs stored food. Hiccup, the one who made her and the rest of her class laugh in spite of themselves at the school talent show, when he'd impersonated various celebrities and their equally varied accents.

Hiccup, the unlikely friend she'd made at a get-together with the who's-who of the city when they were in middle school. Hiccup, the idiot the kissed on the cheek that same summer at a different outing because he was sweet, he was funny, and he understood the feeling of having to fill in a gigantic pair of boots (literally).

He was the son of the mayor after all.

(They never got to talk about that day; the following school year marked the beginning of high school, and the little interaction they had was all but forgotten for the next four years.

"Besides," Astrid had told Ruffnut when school started, "it's not like he would remember something like that.")

When she didn't answer, Hiccup started rambling, leaning on the lockers for support. "No singes or anything? I wasn't sure if I got to you in ti-"

Oh. "That was you?"

She managed to say it in an accusatory tone, as if his actions hadn't save her life. Astrid mentally slapped herself. Learning to watch her tongue was something she was still getting used to-she wasn't voted in as class president because she was nice, she won because she got the job done, and everyone knew it.

"Sorry," she said, scrunching up her face in self-annoyance. "That came out mean."

"That's one word," Hiccup quipped, slightly returning to his usual self.

She raised an eyebrow at him. He shrugged. "Well it is."

Any students previously still lurking about the hall had left to go home, like normal people. The two teens stared at each other in a surprisingly comfortable silence, measuring up the other and, without the other's knowledge, remembering the sunset at a fancy beach party, in a cove Hiccup had found with his dog's help.

A door click reminded Astrid why she was here in the first place. She turned to leave, stopped herself, turned back, said a brief-and slightly awkward-"Thank you", and left

She didn't notice his goofy smile as she walked away, and the door to the principal's office had closed by the time the whistling engulfed the hall.