When he opened the door his immediate reaction is to throw it closed again but the sight of broken pieces of wood made him stop the action halfway through. Opening the door for the second time, he stared at the completely shattered broom in Preben's hands. The boy was staring at him, blue eyes pleading and full of guilt. It made Berward's stomach turn because he knew way too well what this meant. There was no need to actually ask anymore as these accidents happened far more than they should.

"Please….?" The boy on his doorstep pleaded, voice on the verge of breaking. He looked so much smaller in that moment; merely mishap of the boasting Gryffindor Beater who made sure they won the final in their fourth year. Now he looked more like a kicked puppy, which wasn't that far off if he would've chosen to go home with those pieces of broom in his hands.

Berwald closed his eyes, took a few deep breaths and eventually pushed the wire-framed glasses back onto the bridge of his nose. A sigh escaped from his lips as he finally accepted the broom from Preben, or better, what was still left of it.

"What happened?" He finally replied, maybe a bit harsher than he intended. The handle was mostly splintered; the back part could be saved though. Maybe the left pipe needed some remoulding to get it back in shape since a hammer wouldn't quite do the trick. It would only make the old piece of rubbish more instable than it already was. The only conclusion was that this needed to be fixed by a technician, not a young teen in a shed.

"I dunno man…" Preben started, hand going through his wild hair. A gesture that Berwald had labelled as downright nervous, utterly ashamed; mostly a combination of both after those years that he lived next door to this walking disaster. Eyes didn't dare to meet his gaze as they just drifted his old worn out sneakers that shuffled around on the doormat. "I was just practising and for some reason the bludger bounced back a-against… something, didn't see it coming…" Berwald looked up at that statement with a stern frown.

"You okay?" he inquired slowly. Preben had always been a 'hero' in hiding things he considered minor injuries or problems. Anything to keep him out of trouble or not be a bother to others. Hell, the only reason why he even dared to show up on his doorstep was because that old piece of wood was everything the boy had. He was so obviously ashamed, didn't want to ask such a favour but without that broom…

Preben smiled weakly: "Nothing an Episkey can't solve." He managed to bring out and Berwald just knew that he already had some bruising somewhere hidden under that oversized sweater because the kid had never been a pro with healing spells although he needed them more than he'd like to admit.

"But…c-can ya fix her?" he immediately inquired next, his own health obviously not being his first, probably more his fifth, priority.

Berwald just looked at the mess of wood in his hands and sighed.

"I'm n't sure if…"

"Please. I really need to make it into the team this year a-and you know I can't do that without her…"

Berwald knew that he couldn't fix it and taking the thing to the shop to repair it would cost as much as a brand new firebolt, most likely even more. They didn't stock parts this old anymore; most compartments were so out-dated and even considered ancient broom technology by now. Still, Preben was able to fly this thing with ease, making it into the quidditch team as a Beater year after year now. He even went as far as refusing the school brooms that were in a better condition that his had ever been, claiming that no other broom feels and flies like his darling.

Berwald often wondered what this kid would be capable of with an upgraded firebolt, like the one that Erik owned.

So he just nodded weakly, lips pressed in that thin line like they always did when he was about to lie through his teeth. Luckily Preben hadn't caught on to the little habit….yet.

"I'll see what I can do."

He didn't quite expect the other to hug the air out of his lungs, lifting him off of the ground in the process. He tried to squirm his way out of the arms that held his own against his body but without any luck. There were a few muffles 'thank you''s against his chest before his feet felt the safety of the floor again.

"No probl'm…" He retorted weakly, pushing his glasses back in position.

As Preben walked around the corner Berwald couldn't help but sigh again.

He will need to buy that kid a new broom or he'll never forgive himself for this.

Notes:

This is what happens when you stay up until 6 discussing Hogwarts houses for Hetalia characters.

Denmark is obviously a Gryffindor while Sweden is a proud Ravenclaw.

As for their histories: Denmark is a halfblood and the result of one night stand. He grew up on the countryside with a single mother who taught him how to help out in the household (he's really good at baking). Everything was fine and normal until he started showing signs of magic at the age of 7. His mother took him to his father, a rich pureblood who came from a long family line of Slytherins. The poor boy was left in his care and grew up with his two halfbrothers Erik (Norway) en Haldur (Iceland). He was mostly seen as a lesser person, being a halfblood and usually had to do it with far less than he two younger brothers. The broom was a Christmas gift after he made it into the quidditch team in his second year and it was just the cheapest thing the family could find. Though if he broke it he wouldn't get a replacement.

Sweden comes from a very old fashioned pureblood family that still values old traditions and a clean bloodline. His and Norway's family are neighbours and generally on good terms with each other. He wasn't really allowed to spend that much time with Denmark but being of the same age the loud kid just had to get to become friends with him. He still doesn't really like Denmark that much but usually helps him out in situations like this out of pure pity for the boy's situation. That and the fact that he doesn't really have friends beside him and Norway.