"Hey, Bunny, who are you taking to the Yule Ball?"

Aster Bunnymund looks up sharply at the sound of Snotlout's voice. The Slytherin fifth-year is sprawled across the grass, looking for all the world extremely bored, but Aster can see the glint in his eyes as he rolls over and looks at his Gryffindor friend.

"Not going, mate," he says. "It's stupid. A waste of time."

Snotlout blinks. "Are you for real?"

"Don't force the guy to go if he doesn't want to," Mavis snaps, from her position next to Johnny.

Snotlout shrugs, but he looks at Aster strangely. "Whatever, man." A grin splits across his face: "Just means more girls for me."

Astrid rolls her eyes, and punches him, hard, in the arm.

Snotlout gives a yelp of protest, but Astrid ignores him and turns to fix her cold blue eyes on Aster, just visible through her curtain of blond hair. Aster swallows, slightly, lowers his Quidditch Through the Ages. He doesn't know whoever came up with the blonde stereotype of being all giggly and airheaded, but he thinks they definitely have to meet Astrid and revise their opinion. That girl scares even him.

"Why on earth are you looking at me like that, mate?" he asks, finally. Mavis and Johnny are wrapped up in each other, Snotlout is staring at some girls along the lake, Ruffnut and Tuffnut are hitting each other on the head, Sandy's fast asleep and Tooth's surrounded by a whole gaggle of girls, and he's no idea where the others are, so it's really just him and Astrid.

"You know why," she says.

"No, I don't, mate. Care to explain?"

She rolls her eyes. "When are you going to ask her to the Yule Ball?"

"Ask who?" Aster looks at her like she's gone crazy; and maybe, just possibly, she has. (After all, she has agreed to go to the Yule Ball with Lightning McQueen. Maybe she's lost her mind, somewhere in between making that crazy decision and now.)

Astrid punches him hard, in the arm. "Merida!"

"Merida?" Aster gapes at her.

He thinks of the fiery, red-headed Scot, her bright blue eyes boring into him or her snort of laughter when she's pulled off yet another prank successfully, her dramatic flair and the way she glares and swears when she's mad.

Him? Go to the Yule Ball with Merida Dunbroch?

"Yes, Merida," Astrid says, shortly, clearly annoyed. "I know you like her."

"I – I do not like her! I mean, she's great as a friend, but not that way!"

Astrid raises her eyebrows, like, Seriously? Who are you trying to kid?

"Well, if you don't," she says, "Jack Frost will."

"Jack Frost?"

He's quite sure he must look like a goldfish or something now, because his jaw has dropped open and he's staring at Astrid in shock as his mind processes her words. Merida. Merida Dunbroch. His Merida. And Jack Frost, of all people? That skinny, albino kid from Slytherin, who plays the most ridiculous pranks and tricks everyone in sight?

(Wait, that came out all wrong. His Merida? Merida's not his, no way. She's just a really, really close friend. That's all. And, as she's insisted time and time again, she belongs to no one. She's her own person.)

"Yes," Astrid says, patiently, as if explaining something to a five-year-old. "Hiccup told me that Jack's planning to ask Merida to the Yule Ball."

"He'll never get it done," says Aster, immediately. "Rida's not the kind to go for some stupid dance."

The look Astrid gives him is almost pitiful.

"Aster," she says. "I know Merida acts like one of the guys a lot of the times. I do, too. But she's a girl, and so am I. It's a dance, you idiot. She will go, with someone she likes enough to go with. I just talked to her about it last night. If Frost asks her, she probably will go with him. She likes the guy. And Frost really wants to get to know her better."

Somewhere, in between Astrid's words, the Quidditich of the Ages Aster's been holding has slipped onto the grass.

"You're kidding me," he says. She gives him another look. He tries again. "But – but she's Merida! And he's Jack Frost, for the love of – she wouldn't go with him!" He pauses. "Would she?"

"I told you," Astrid says. "Ask her yourself. I know you like her."

At that, he shakes his head vehemently. "No way, mate. She's a good friend and all, but – "

He's cut off abruptly as Astrid rises to her feet, the exasperated look on her face clear.

"If you're going to be in self-denial about it," she says to him, "it's your loss."

She doesn't wait for an answer. She turns and walks away.

"Why won't you ask Elsa? Hey, you two are perfect. She's like, you know, the Snow Queen and all that, and you're Jack Frost, and you've both got lovely white hair and great blue eyes and all that nonsense, so why don't you just ask her and – "

"Hiccup." Jack raises his head from the book he's been unsuccessfully trying to read, some nonsense about Transfiguration or Charms or something; he's lost interest pages ago. "What is it with you trying to discourage me from asking Merida?"

Hiccup shrugs his shoulders, awkwardly, and tries to hide behind his History of Magic book. "I mean, you know, she's not really your type, is she? Kind of wild, kind of crazy, and she really doesn't listen to anyone – "

"She's amazing," says Jack. "Have you seen her on the Quidditch pitch?"

"Considering I'm the one commentating the matches, actually, yes," Hiccup says.

"You're only commentating because you won't even bother trying out for the team."

"Hey. Ravenclaw, remember? I got loads of books to read. No time for Quidditch. Nope. None at all."

"That doesn't even make sense. You have a Ravenclaw team, don't you?"

Hiccup clears his throat. "Moving on!" he says. "Why won't you ask Elsa?"

Jack shrugs. "Not my type."

"So what is your type?"

"Scottish," Jack says, instantly. "Red hair. Preferably wild, curly red hair. An attitude and a temper to match. Bright blue eyes. A crude sense of humour. Not willing to take nonsense from anyone. And a fantastic Beater."

"I've lost," Hiccup says. "I've hardly started and I've lost. There's no way to change your mind, is there?"

Jack frowns at him. "Why d'you wanna change my mind, anyway?" he wants to know. "Aren't you going with Violet Parr? That girl from my house?"

Hiccup ducks his head, and mutters something about Astrid.

Jack only rolls his eyes at that. "Well, you can tell Astrid I'm asking Merida, and there's no way I'm backing out."

He wonders for a moment why Astrid and Hiccup would even care, but he pushes aside the thought and returns to his extremely important task of staring blankly down at his textbook.

Aster is pacing the hallway, up and down and up and down.

Jack Frost can't really be planning to ask Merida. Can he? He thinks of Jack Frost, that annoying, mischievous prankster with an attitude to match. Half the girls in the school are in love with him. He wouldn't really ask Merida, would he? He's all fun and laughter and jokes, and Merida's - well, okay, Merida's pretty much lots of fun and laughter and jokes too. And they're both complete daredevils, and both completely reckless. But they don't match. They don't. Besides, Jack Frost's a Slytherin, and Merida's probably one of the most Gryffindor-like Gryffindors around, even if House rivalry has never really existed between them and their group of friends. She wouldn't go with Frost. Would she?

He thinks of Merida.

Somehow, at the thought of Jack Frost taking Merida to the Yule Ball, something clenches in Aster's chest.

No, no, no. Frost cannot take Merida to the Yule Ball.

Why not? A sneaky voice in his head asks. They'll make a good pair. Frost and Fire.

Because it's not right, he wants to yell back at that stupid, annoying voice. She doesn't belong with him.

He thinks, then, that she'll probably murder him if she ever finds out he's thought of her as having to belong with someone. Merida prizes and values her independence greatly.

She's your friend, he tells himself. Of course you're protective of her.

But he's not protective this way over anyone else, is he? Not with Astrid, even though he thinks McQueen is a complete jerk. Not with Ruff, who is going with Eret. Not with Tooth, even though they've been friends for years, who's going with North.

They all can take care of themselves, he thinks.

But so can Merida.

He knows Lightning and North and Eret, he tells himself, firmly. He knows they won't do anything stupid to the girls.

But he knows Jack Frost, and while Jack Frost is an annoying show pony, he won't do anything bad to Merida. And, though he'll never admit it, Eret and Lightning are probably much more annoying than Jack.

Aster thinks of Jack Frost, with his easy grin and smile and chuckle that sends almost all the girls in Hogwarts into hysterics.

And he thinks of Merida, her crazy jokes, her beaming smile, her punching him in the arm, her mess of wild red hair, her bright blue eyes, her snorts of laughter, her swearing and arguing and never, ever backing down –

And then he's running, flying down the corridors.

Aster finds her by the lake, sprawled on the grass with Astrid next to her.

Not very far away, he can see Jack Frost, followed by a glum-looking Hiccup, Frost's eyes fixed on the redheaded Scottish girl who is having a heated discussion with Astrid.

Aster doesn't think. He runs, and he runs, and races past Frost and Hiccup, and he skids to a halt in front of Astrid and Merida.

He ignores Astrid's knowing smile, the smirk spreading across her face as she takes in his dishevelled appearance, Jack Frost not very far behind him.

"Bunny?" Merida frowns, props herself up on her elbows. He can see a copy of some diagrams, of positions and coloured lines stretched across a diagram that has to be a Quidditch pitch, on the grass between her and Astrid. "What've you been doing?"

"I need to ask you," he pants, straightening himself up and locking his eyes on hers. "I need to know."

"Ask me what?" Merida says, her brows furrowed.

He takes a deep breath. No turning back. He knows Jack Frost is somewhere behind him now, with Hiccup, but he pushes that out of his head and fixes his gaze on the confused, freckled face of his fellow Gryffindor.

"Will you – " he swallows, then, and he gulps, but Merida's looking at him curiously now and he's not going to back down, especially not with Jack Frost behind him " – will you go to the Yule Ball with me?"

Merida stares at him.

She's going to say no, he knows it. She's going to say no, and then he'll have to walk away, and then Frost will smirk that stupid smirk and then he'll sweep in and Merida will say yes and then –

"Yes!"

He blinks. "Wh-what?"

"Yes, you moron! Of course I'll go to the ball with you!"

She's leapt to her feet now, and she punches him hard, before throwing her arms around him excitedly. "You're an idiot, did you know that, you stupid kangaroo? I was going to ask you myself, damn the stupid boys-ask-girls stereotype crap, if you didn't ask me soon!"

He's aware of his arms going around her, wrapping around her, his face filled with her crazy red hair. "You – you wouldn't have gone with Frost? I mean, if he'd asked you?"

"Frost?" She takes a step back, looks at him strangely. "Do I look like I'm going after albinos any time soon? No offence," she adds hurriedly, looking over his shoulder, and Aster realises that Jack's probably still standing behind him with Hiccup. She turns her attention back to Aster. "He's my friend, you idiot! Nothing more than that! Besides, I wanted to go with you!"

Aster turns to fix narrowed green eyes on Astrid, who is now idly flicking through the diagrams on the ground, a growing grin on her face.

He decides to forgive her.

After all, if it's not for Astrid, he would most definitely not be standing here with his arm around Merida Dunbroch.

"You're amazing," Aster tells the Scot. "You know that, sheila?"

Merida grins up at him. "You're not so bad yourself, kangaroo."

Jack observes the scene before him with a slightly detached interest.

"So that's why you tried to get me to ask Elsa," he says, turning back to Hiccup, who just grins sheepishly and shrugs his shoulders.

"Well." Hiccup pauses. "Kind of."

"Oh well." Jack sighs. "Well, maybe Elsa still doesn't have a date."

Hiccup rolls his eyes.

Later that day, Jack Frosts asks a slim girl with white-blond hair to the Yule Ball.

In another part of the castle, a green-eyed Gryffindor fifth-year boy with an Australian accent chases a round-faced, redheaded Scottish Gryffindor girl through the endless corridors, as she waves a heavy book in the air before laughing, skidding into the next hallway; but his heart's not in the chase, not really, because it's difficult to focus on running after her when he thinks of the fact that she's going to the Yule Ball with him.

And in yet another part of the castle, there is the clink of coins exchanging hands as Astrid and Hiccup, grinning, hold out their hands as Sickles and Galleons are pressed into them from Snotlout and North and Sandy, who are muttering about stupid Australian boys with a fondness for Scottish girls and annoying, hot-tempered redheaded girls who can't say no to green-eyed boys.