Modern/Supernatural AU. Just when everything in her life was going so well for Astrid, catastrophe strikes. Refusing to give up, she needs to solve a mystery, track down the person who betrayed her and protect the man she loves-because they are coming for Hiccup next...

Disclaimer: How to Train Your Dragon remains the property of Cressida Cowell and Dreamworks. The plot is based on a 1990 film that was written by Bruce Joel Rubin, directed by Jerry Zucker and released by Paramount pictures. It was the highest grossing film in 1990. BrawlerGamer wrote the detailed outline and adapted plot for this fiction.

A/N: This is a bit of a departure for me-I've never written anyone else's storyline before (and I am extremely picky what I write) but BrawlerGamer just came up with the most amazing outline based on one of my favourite films and I couldn't resist. This is a real departure for me-though there is still Hiccstrid, don't worry! Anyway-enjoy!

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One:

Life was almost perfect. That was the only conclusion Astrid Hofferson could make as she paused to check the progress of the move into their new home. Of course, Hiccup was in the middle of things, directing the transfer of his sculptures-completed and in progress-to the new studio in the top floor of the three storey townhouse they had bought in the heart of Berk City. Astrid was far more organised, practical and impatient but Hiccup couldn't stand back, worrying about his precious creations and racing forward to grasp an edge with his strong, sensitive hands before it impacted on the door-frame.

She smiled. He got very precious about his art-though, as a sculptor and artist he had every reason to want to ensure his unique pieces weren't damaged-but in everything else, he was easy-going and very relaxed. He paused, turning for a second to search her out and the moment his eyes alighted on her, he smiled, his emerald eyes shining with his love and shaggy auburn hair ruffled in the breeze. In a moment, he was bouncing down the front steps, his tall lean shape moving with purpose as he homed in on her, sweeping the unsuspecting Astrid into his arms. She squealed.

"What are you doing, you doofus?" she asked, half-amused and half-irritated, kicking half-heartedly. His warm arms were very comforting around her lithe shape, his face mere inches from hers.

"I realised that no one was moving in the most important item," her told her huskily, his emerald eyes inspecting her own azure gaze. His handsome face, with the sharp jaw and the adoring expression sent a flutter through her chest. He hefted her in his arms and turned to the house.

"Oh no, you are not carrying me in like a piece of furniture, babe…" she protested as their friends watched. Hiccup's cousin, Snotlout; his best friend Fishlegs and her closest friend Heather all stopped and burst out laughing at the sight of the feisty blonde complaining as her tall auburn boyfriend stopped on the threshold and pressed a tender kiss on her mouth, silencing her protests.

"I love you, Milady," he murmured, staring into her eyes. She smiled, her irritation melting away.

"Ditto," she smiled back.

"Ditto? Ditto? You may be a hotshot in the cutthroat world of finance, Milady, but you really suck at romance," he teased her, his eyes crinkling.

"Do not," she retorted playfully.

"Do too," he replied childishly, his smirk a real challenge. She whacked him with her fist and he yelped, overbalancing and falling backwards into their new home. "Owww….." he whined, though he had held her safe in his arms. She rolled over and stared down into his face, a hand ghosting along the sharp line of his jaw, darkened with a little scruffy stubble and her lips tilted in a smile. Her thick golden braid flopped over her left shoulder.

"Do not," she insisted, leaning close. "Not everyone is as demonstrative as you, sculptor boy!" He lay back, staring up into her eyes, his hands light on her waist.

"As long as you love me, Milady, I can cope with you never saying the words," he said in a resigned voice, the uncertainty in his voice making her pause. Her smile faltered: why did she find it so hard to express her feelings, to confess her love for him? Why did it matter so much to him to hear the worlds-and to her not to say them?

"I…" she began, seeing the hope and anxiety mingle in the glorious emerald gaze. But she softened the tension by kissing him fervently, feeling him respond with equal passion…until a voice pulled them back to reality.

"Ewww-get a room, cuz!" Hiccup rolled his eyes as the two pulled apart. The stocky jet-haired man huffed as he tried to get past, his arms full of art supplies.

"Snotlout…we already have one," he sighed.

"And you two are lying in the way of us getting the bed into it!" Fishlegs added, half of the frame in his steady grasp. Astrid huffed and reluctantly got to her feet.

"You're a bad influence on me," she smiled, staring down on the rumpled shape in baggy, paint-splashed jeans and faded green tee-shirt. Hiccup smiled happily back, the goofy smile the one she had fallen in love with.

"I do my best," he smirked as he stuck up a hand and she hauled him to his feet. He skipped back a couple of feet, his eyes teasing. "You're not going to punch me again, are you?" he added. She gave a smug smirk.

"I actually only reserve that for people who annoy me," she told him as he walked slowly forward to pull her close.

"Then I'm safe because I'd never dare do that," he admitted, then winced as he heard Snotlout trip over one of his sculptures and drop his favourite easel. "My cousin, on the other hand…" he sighed as he pulled away to go and check what his cousin had broken now. Astrid sighed and stared after him, wondering how she had ended up with such an amazing and loving man that she certainly didn't deserve…especially after the way they had met…

oOo

One Year Earlier…

Astrid awoke slowly, her head muzzy with the aftermath of a really good night out. It had been one of those work-related things that she had reluctantly gone along to with Heather-her best friend and deputy CEO-because it would provide opportunities of networking and 'letting her hair down', which was Heather's persistent refrain. It had also been her birthday, though her idea of a celebration would have been a cup of cocoa in front of the computer. Personally, Astrid hated parties but the chance to meet with 'Chief' Stoick Haddock, the infamous CEO of the Haddock Corporation, the largest Finance and Investment Brokerage House and Bank in Berk and the East Coast, had just been too good to miss. So she had dressed in her best dress, a stunning azure silk form-fitting knee-length that she knew suited her eyes and had dutifully turned out, probably drinking too many champagnes on an empty stomach and….

Reality hit her at that moment. She had no clue where she was…but she was in a bed that certainly wasn't hers and she had no clue how she got here. She lifted her head: the green sheets were rumpled and the pillow on the other side of the bed was dented, showing someone else had slept in the bed with her. More reality slapped her in the face: she was naked in the bed. Whoever she had gone home with had taken advantage of her drunkenness and of her.

Anger and embarrassment warred in her chest as she sat up and cast around for her clothes, strewn on the floor. Shaking with anger, she grabbed them and swiftly dressed, expertly loosening her hair and then rebraiding it before she grabbed her bag, pulled her heels on and stormed through to the kitchen to find the person who had shamefully taken advantage of a drunken woman.

It wasn't hard, she realised swiftly as she heard the sounds of cooking and arrived at a modern, white kitchen. There was a light, slightly nasal voice talking to an unseen other person as she rounded the corner. A tall and lanky young man was standing barefoot at the stove, expertly frying bacon, a pile of pancakes already keeping warm. Casually dressed in training pants and a loose tee-shirt, his auburn hair was shaggy and dishevelled from sleep, his sharp jaw darkened by stubble and his brow furrowed as he concentrated on his task.

"No, bud-none of this is for you," he said, his emerald eyes flicking to playfully inspect a large black dog lying at his feet, big green eyes looking hopefully at his owner. A long arm snaked over to a mug of freshly-brewed coffee…and as he looked up, her saw her. His handsome face lit with a genuine smile as she approached and he half-turned to her. "Morning, Milady! How…" he began but got no further. Infuriated beyond words, she walked up to the swine, punched him so hard in the stomach that he collapsed to his knees and stormed off, leaving him coughing on his knees. The dog gave a small whine as she slammed the door…and was gone.

oOo

Present Day…

Hiccup had managed to rescue one of his larger slab-built pieces before Snotlout managed to drop it and shouted at his cousin until the man understood how important it was to him. It was an enormous abstract work that he had constructed over a month and had been so huge he had needed to buy a new kiln to fire. Intricate carvings marked the surface, the delicate use of tints and glazes giving the massive piece of art an otherworldly, Viking appearance. Running his hand through his shaggy auburn hair, Hiccup directed Snotlout and Fishlegs as they carefully placed it on the plinth in the main hall, under the spotlight that had been fitted specifically to illuminate the work. Astrid rolled her eyes and took the box of cookery items into the kitchen, running her hand along the granite work-top with a smile.

"It's a beautiful house," Heather said, placing her box by the oven. Astrid gave a smirk.

"I know," she said lightly, her eyes sparkling. "And it's ours! Hiccup's apartment and mine-between them, there was enough to buy this outright." Heather looked round approvingly, her raven hair in a loose ponytail.

"I could never afford a place in this neighbourhood," she sighed and Astrid turned to her, grasping her shoulders gently.

"Heather-you know how well we are doing," she said. "The main transaction account has a massive surplus so I've transferred it to the prime business holding account on the advice of Stoick Haddock to keep the Financial Regulator happy that we're safeguarding our investors. And at the end of the financial year, we'll both be on for handsome bonuses…and I know exactly what to do with mine…" Her eyes swept round the kitchen and the adjoining living area. Heather batted her shoulder.

"You need to get to the end of the year before you spend our dividends, Ast!" she smirked. "Honestly-before you met Hiccup, all you dreamed about was increasing our profitability and your financial clout, about networking and clients and accounts. And now, you're spending profits we don't have on a house you haven't even finished moving into!"

"And it almost didn't happen," Astrid sighed, checking the boxes were where she wanted them and turning back to the door. "I almost blew my chance with him."

oOo

One Year Earlier…

Filled with righteous anger, Astrid had been steaming all the way back to her apartment in a neat, modern block in the centre of the city, slamming the door, throwing her shoes into the closet and slipping out of the dress, throwing it onto the bed.

"Argh! The nerve of that man!" she growled to herself, unbraiding her hair and running her fingers through it to loosen the golden locks. She desperately needed a shower, to wash away the stale makeup and freshen herself up. "I mean, what kind of bastard takes advantage of a drunken woman?" She sighed and headed into the shower, flipping on the water and closing her eyes, allowing the water to soak her head and caress her tired body, to remove the smell and memory of whoever that man had been.

She scrubbed her face fiercely. Of course, she clearly had gone willingly, because she knew Heather wouldn't allow her to be abducted from the party…but hadn't the man realised she was so wasted she was incapable to consenting, of knowing what she was doing? She scrubbed her face harder. And whose fault had that been? If she believed in equality, then the blame was hers as well. She should have drunk responsibly-and especially on an empty stomach. She soaped her hair angrily.

He had still taken advantage-and Astrid Hofferson didn't forget that.

Switching off the water, she wrung her hair dry and stepped out, wrapping a towel around herself and walking back into the bedroom. Her room was neat and ordered, everything pristine and modern. Automatically, she collected up her discarded dress and hung it neatly then dumped the rest of her clothing in the washing basket. Calming her breathing, she dried herself and sat at her dressing table, brushing her hair through and carefully drying it. She stared at the reflection in the mirror: she was a confident, professional determined woman who didn't need anyone. Success didn't come to those who slept: you keep the pressure on, you forge ahead.

The reflection smiled back. Her parents had been so proud of her success and her father had been her greatest supporter, cheering as she first set up her business and when she had taken on Heather as her first appointment in that little office downtown with the damp patch in the corner of the office and and dodgy internet. Now, their offices were so white and modern you felt you had walked into the future-but her parents hadn't seen it. The car crash that had taken them had left Astrid alone and that was how she liked it. No one to care for, no one to distract her by loving her or caring for her or dying and breaking her heart…

She reached for her cream and gently massaged it in, dusting on foundation and attending to her make-up with mindless precision. She went through the same routine every day: same braid over her left shoulder, same light make-up, same deep navy suit and white or pale blue blouse, same fine gold chain as her only ornamentation. She rose, snatched a piece of toast and checked her reflection: a successful business woman looked back aloofly at her. A success-and not at all lonely.

Of course, one of the perks of being the boss was that she didn't have to justify it if she came in late-but she caught Heather's smirk and saw the knowing look in her grey-green eyes. Astrid huffed, stowed her bag and jacket and then went to the coffee machine, sloshing black coffee into her mug and counting.

"four…five…six…seven…"

"So…Astrid…how was last night?" Astrid glanced up with a smile as Heather stood opposite her, smirking in her black suit skirt and white blouse. She sipped her coffee with a superior look.

"You're slipping," she told her friend. "I usually only get to five before you try to find out what happened." Her friend shot back the most smug look.

"Well, you were really struggling-and I admit, hands up, it was the worst and most boring party ever. No sign of Stoick Haddock at all…and you were hitting the champagne rather harder than sensible when that yummy stranger came up and suggested you eat something."

"Yummy stranger?" Astrid's blonde brow arched above a puzzled expression. Heather nodded enthusiastically.

"The handsome guy with the messy auburn hair and those dreamy green eyes…" Astrid bristled.

"You mean the creep who took advantage of me?" she demanded sharply. "I was wasted and that creep took me home and…and obviously he took advantage of me and…" Heather frowned and shook her head.

"I don't think so," she murmured. "I mean, you sat talking to him for over two hours and finally you insisted you went back to his place to see his sculptures…and he seemed like a really nice guy." She paused and stared worriedly at her friend. "Why-what happened?"

What had happened?

She recalled leaning forward, chatting to the young man with the sparkling emerald eyes and the gentle, teasing voice. She recalled hands moving as he talked, his arms and shoulders used for emphasis and a lopsided, gentle smile. She recalled him taking her through his studio and showing her his sculptures and how she had realised that the art in the exhibition had been his. She recalled flinging herself at him, arms all over his lanky shape and the blush of embarrassment warming his pale, faintly freckled cheeks. And the way he had very gently refused, citing her complete inebriation as a reason to not do anything she may regret. He had offered her a taxi home and the spare bedroom-which she had collapsed into…but she had sneaked into his room as soon as he was in bed, undressed and flung herself at him-and in the end, he had gently hugged her until she had passed out.

She frowned and covered her face.

"Astrid?"

"I punched him," she murmured in shame. "Gods, I was completely…drunk…and horny. Very horny…I mean, he was hot and kind and-and lovely and he was a complete gentleman and I woke up and punched him."

Heather's cackle of laughter echoed through the office, causing three of the junior employees to look up. Astrid shushed her urgently.

"Oh Thor! Really?" Her friend was almost helpless. "Shame because he seemed really nice-and not an asshole..." Astrid face-palmed and sighed.

"Yeah, I think you're right," she sighed. In a second, her friend had grabbed her arms.

"Astrid-you are my best friend and Gods know, I love you," Heather said urgently, "but I have to tell you-you're a total idiot!" Astrid stared at her. "You were so happy last night, so open and relaxed and..."

"Very, very drunk," Astrid finished dryly.

"And maybe that allowed you to drop your guard and your facade of bring Miss Perfect Businesswoman!" Heather argued. "All I know is-you looked the happiest I've seen you since you lost your parents-and if you don't at least speak to this guy, then you will regret it for the rest of your life!" Astrid sighed.

"If he'll even open the door," she mumbled. Heather turned and headed back to her desk.

"You snooze, you lose," she reminded the blonde. "What have you got to lose?"

So she had found herself where she started that evening after work, walking through the converted warehouse building to the third floor apartment, seeing the door number that was, on closer inspection, a unique pottery plaque in the shape of a black dragon with the number '7' carefully painted on. She stared at the door for a full five minutes before she hit the bell.

There was a long pause and just as she was about to give up, the door opened. She swallowed-and looked into the same emerald eyes from this morning-though now they were wary, not welcoming. He took a couple of breaths and stared at her.

"Um...yeah?" he asked her. She stared into his face and fragments of memory floated back: a lopsided smile, the way those eyes darkened slightly as he leaned close… She sighed.

"I-I think I owe you an apology," she said brusquely, almost wincing at her own sharp tone. His brows furrowed ever so slightly.

"You think?" he retorted, the tone edged with sarcasm. He was half-hiding behind the door but she could see he was wearing a very scruffy green tee-shirt, marked with what looked like mud, loose baggy jeans that were splattered with paint and he was barefoot. She took a small breath.

"I may have…over-reacted," she admitted. He tilted his head slightly, an eyebrow arching in a wry look. "C'mon-I woke up naked in a strange bed and have no memory of how I got there. And I find some guy who seems very chipper and I assumed…"

He frowned.

"I did the dishonourable thing?" he said heavily. "Figures. I meet someone who actually wants to look at my work and she's wasted out of her skull and then she flings herself at me and refuses to get in a taxi and so I put her in my spare bed and I think she's safely tucked in and the next thing I know, said drunken horny blonde is naked in my bed and is really touchy and all I can do to stop her crawling all over me is hug her until she drops asleep and then she wakes up and punches me really hard!" His voice had become more animated as he launched into his protest, his arms waving wildly as he described his evening. Astrid stared at him and giggled. "And that is so not funny, Milady!" he told her shortly.

"Actually it's hilarious," she giggled.

"How-how is my getting punched funny?" he protested, eyes widening in utter confusion. She shook her head.

"No, I really am sorry about that," she sniggered, "but the way you're waving your hands around it so…"

"Hiccup?" he sighed. She frowned. "Because it's my name. Hiccup Haddock." She gaped.

"Haddock? As in Stoick Haddock?" she asked. He rolled his eyes and his shoulders slumped.

"Go ahead," he breathed. "This is where people either scoff that I am nothing like the financial giant or use me to try to get to him…"

"That art at the exhibition was yours?" she asked and he nodded.

"Um…I am a sculptor and potter," he admitted, his head still bowed. "Of course, my Dad doesn't approve because I am meant to take over the family business but that's not what I want to do. And I don't often get exhibited because no one has heard of me…so it was really a great opportunity for me yesterday…but I blew that as well talking to some gorgeous, giggly blonde who turned out to be a violent lunatic…"

"Show me the art," she demanded firmly. He stared at her, then gestured to his scruffy attire.

"Um..actually I was working…" he said. Confidently, she walked through the door and stared determinedly into his eyes.

"Show me," she asked him more gently and he swallowed, then closed the door.

"This way," he murmured and gestured towards a brightly lit area, pieces displayed, pots and ceramics stacked on shelves, bins of clay, containers of slip and tools strewn and a wheel casually taking pride of place. A central area on a large plastic sheet had a heavy jagged structure half-built with folded slabs of clay still lying by the creation. Astrid walked past and peered at one of the completed pieces, a heavy stylised statue in deep earth tones, covered in impressed and vividly painted dragons. She gasped and trailed her fingertips over the smooth, glazed surface.

"This is…amazing…" she murmured, her eyes wide. She walked to the next, a fluid shape suggesting a woman dancing, blonde hair gleaming gold with the glaze. Then she turned to the work in progress. "And this one?" she murmured. He shrugged.

"I'm…struggling…" he sighed. "It's meant to represent the tension between the modern urban Berk and the simpler naturalistic past…" She walked around it, the echoes of her heels surrounding them. She ended at his side and rested her chin in a hand.

"So that jagged bit is the city and the smoother, more curved portion is nature?" she asked and his head snapped round, inspecting her more closely.

"You said that last night," he gasped. She smiled.

"You know…I think we got off on the wrong foot," she murmured. "Well, to be honest, I have no recollection of which foot we got off on at all! And I would really like to get to know you properly, when I'm not utterly wasted." She turned to face him and offered her hand. "Astrid Hofferson." His warm hand closed around hers, the calluses from his craft unfamiliar on her skin.

"Hiccup Haddock," he said gently, then lifted her hand to his lips and gently kissed it. "Pleasure to meet you, Milady!" She blushed and blinked: Astrid Hofferson never blushed!

"Cut that out, sculptor boy!" she told him, her eyes twinkling-and the lopsided smile she had half-recalled warmed his face and sent a little flutter through her chest.

"I think I owe you a coffee," he told her warmly. "Of course, Toothless ate your pancakes…"

"Toothless?" she frowned. He gestured back to the main part of the apartment and the kitchen area. A large black dog was curled in his bed, a brilliant green eyes cracking open for a second then closing again. A tail thumped the floor a couple of times in approval.

"Yeah, my supposedly loyal dog. Man's best friend. Thanks, bud-great job protecting me from the woman who punched me this morning!" She gave a laugh.

"He knows I don't mean you any harm, Hiccup," she told him as she settled at the table. He put the kettle on the stove and grinned.

"Yeah, it really felt like that," he replied, putting on a wounded voice.

"Aww…big baby boo!" she teased him. "Being hit by a widdle girlie too much for you?"

"Odin, yes!" he said with feeling. "I thought Thor himself had punched me!" She threw her head back and laughed and he joined her. His laugh was pleasant and open and the sound warmed her chest. He grinned again-then turned to the counter. "Um…I don't actually know how you like your coffee, Milady so…?"

"Straight up-black, no sugar or sweetener," she said automatically. He nodded, sloshing hot water in and adding cream and sugar to his own cup. Easily, he walked and sat in the seat next to her, placing her mug gently in front of her.

"So….hot shot businesswoman?" he said thoughtfully. "Someone who went to the party hoping to see Stoick Haddock and ended up sitting with his son instead…I'm afraid I'm not much of a substitute. I'm not in the family business and never will be, no matter what my father wishes. I'm an artist. I create with my hands. I can't make cold decisions with money, to lend here, refuse there, foreclose on this person and bankrupt that one! That's not who I am." His face was open and he gave a shrug, something his lean and lanky shape was well suited for.

"Finance isn't just lending and repossessions," she told him. "You can help others invest and create, to support and build dreams, to give people hope, a chance, a future." Her eyes sparkled and he smiled at her passionate words.

"And when you're not helping people build dreams?" he asked her gently, his eyes fixated on her face. She felt her cheeks warm.

"I…um…don't have much time for anything outside work," she admitted. "It's my business and I have everything invested in it. So it's up to me if it stands or falls."

"All work and no play makes Astrid a dull girl," he teased her gently. She sipped her coffee.

"So I'm dull, sculptor boy?" she asked him and his eyes widened.

"Um…I didn't actually say that!" he protested urgently. She leaned forward and gently punched him in the shoulder. "Toothless! You saw that, bud! Why aren't you protecting me from this ferocious madwoman?" he yelped.

"And I thought that last night might suggest I know how to party," she purred, leaning close to him. He grinned and leaned closer.

"Do you always punch your dates the next morning?" he asked her playfully.

"Only the special ones," she murmured. Her eyes locked on his and she suddenly felt she was drowning in the emerald depths. "And I think you may be very special…" He smiled, leaning closer.

"That's a relief," he murmured. "Because otherwise, this could be very embarrassing." And he leaned in and kissed her. It was only meant to be a brief, playful kiss but she instantly returned the kiss, leaning hard and digging her hands into his soft, tousled hair, holding him close as the kiss deepened. HIs warm hands gently slid over her shoulders, cupping her cheeks as they finally pulled apart. Breathing hard, they stared into each other's eyes.

"I think maybe we should go on a date," Astrid said breathlessly. Hiccup rested his forehead against hers, a smile lighting his face.

"Anything you say, Milady-as long as we can do that again," he sighed and kissed her once more.