Ludwig insisted on carrying Gilbert. After the boy had gotten his wits back, he had insisted that he was fine, but in a competition of 'insistence', Ludwig would always win. So the Beater carried his Keeper out of Charlottenburg Palace on his back piggy-back style, with Gilbert's arms draped around his shoulders, and Ludwig's large hands holding onto his thighs firmly while Gilbert leaned against him, explaining how he encountered the Boggart.

"I got lost after my lecturer spoke to me about a few things," he said with a small sigh. "And I passed that room...I heard a rattle and when I looked in, I saw the wardrobe door was shaking and rattling. I thought maybe a cat, or a bird had gotten in there somehow, so I went in to open it and...well...it wasn't anything like that."

Ludwig grunted. "First rule of immersing yourself in the magical world - for every wonderful, miraculous thing that's out there for wizards and witches to see, there is also a dark, deadly thing that will just as happily suck all of the joy and hope from your life. If you are suspicious of something, you must proceed with caution, or at least get someone who is skilled in magic to assist you."

"...I wish I had my broomstick," Gilbert mumbled lamely, his chin resting on one of Ludwig's shoulders.

"Why?"

"Because I would have beaten the shit out of him...it. It. Whatever it was. I would have turned it into a bloody pulp on the floor."

Ludwig snorted. "You know, you can't go through life beating the shit out of what you're afraid of."

"Says the one who, literally, goes through life beating the shit out of things."

"Hey. That is in a controlled environment. And I do that because I am a qualified to do it. You, however, are not." Ludwig vaguely wondered what would happen if one did indeed attack a Boggart physically. It was uncommon, but not unheard of, to hear of Muggles who had encountered them (hence the myths and stories of monsters in closets and under beds) - what if one of them had a weapon on them? Ludwig realized that he had never learned how they died or how they could possibly die. If Gilbert had indeed attacked the Boggart, would he, as the Stasi officer, had fired his weapon? Was it even capable of doing that? How deep was a Boggart's illusion? Was Gilbert afraid of the Stasi, or was he afraid of being killed by the Stasi? Is that why the gun was present and aimed at Gilbert?

These thoughts plagued him and he realized how lucky he was to have come in on Gilbert at the right time. Depending on just how invested in its illusion the Boggart was…

"Ludwig." Gilbert gently nudged him. "You okay? You seem like you're thinking a lot."

"Just fine," Ludwig said automatically, banishing any more thoughts about the matter. "We're using Port Key to get there."

"What's a Port Key?"

As Gilbert said this, they left Charlottenburg Palace and Ludwig continued to carry the boy across the lawn and down the street. "It's one of many ways that wizards use to get around."

"Don't you all use bikes or cars?" Gilbert asked with a huff, unclasping his hands to rest limply on Ludwig's shoulders.

"Only when we want to blend in. But otherwise, it's inefficient."

Down the street from Charlottenburg was a street lined with luxury townhomes and, nestled in between two of them was a small cafe. Only when they reached one of the tables and chairs on the patio outside of the establishment did Ludwig set Gilbert down on his feet. On top of one of the circular metal chairs was a pair of innocuous salt and pepper shakers. "You take salt," Ludwig instructed, "and I take pepper."

"Then what?"

"They will transport us to the practice pitch in Potsdam."

Gilbert frowned a bit and looked down at the two shakers. "What about the salt and pepper?"

Ludwig was already reaching for the pepper shaker "What do you mean?"

"Won't we be stealing them?"

"Just take the damn salt shaker." Ludwig rolled his eyes. Leave it to Gilbert to fret over salt and pepper.

He himself did not grasp the portkey pepper until Gilbert already had and disappeared where he stood. When he arrived in the Potsdam Princes' locker room, he found Gilbert there as well, looking slightly bewildered. "Don't act surprised," Ludwig said, clapping him on the shoulder and leading him out to the actual field. "You're hardly a rookie anymore."

The Badgers were hard at work at drills. Max was always a good substitute coach, and was leading the Chasers on their drills while Johann did his own exercises as a Seeker. When the team saw Ludwig and Gilbert approach, however, immediately they grounded themselves and approached. Frederick was not with them - he did not have clearance from the doctor to be up in the air, however he would be alright in the next few days and would be at their next match.

"You're late!" Kurstin said with a grin. "We were about to send the police out on you. File a report for a missing person!"

"Very funny." Ludwig rolled his eyes. They were only about forty five minutes late to practice - but that was still later than Ludwig had ever been. "We were just held up with a few things. Everything is fine." He didn't feel like explaining the situation, and he wasn't sure if Gilbert wanted his dirty laundry aired out, anyways. That was his business to disclose. "Now, I didn't say you all could stop your drills. Get back on your brooms. We did very well last game, but that doesn't mean that we can slack off. The bar is raised even higher now, and we have to rise to meet it."

They practiced until the sun went down. It was October, so the days were getting shorter and the chill of the air was becoming harder to ignore up in the air, even though they kept their bodies moving. Ludwig noticed that the atmosphere of the team was slightly off - even though Johann worked even harder than usual, probably to make up for his absence from the last match, and Kurstin worked seamlessly with Wolfgang to perfect their maneuvers with each other. Max was off, though was to be expected. His right hand was always Frederick, and without him Max just never seemed to be at his full potential. But nonetheless he worked hard with his captain and fellow Beater.

Gilbert as well, was not at his fullest, and Ludwig was the only one who knew why - he was probably the only one who even noticed. Ludwig knew every subtle movement that his Keeper made when he was in game mode. How he was dominant in his left hand, and the way his wrist flicked just after tossing a Quaffle into play, and when he wet his lips with his tongue as he scanned the field, muttering whatever mathematical calculations were running through his mind.

Today Ludwig could tell that Gilbert's calculations were off. He was slipping more with his left hand than usual, and he took more risks than usual. But he let him slide - only for today. Ludwig could only imagine how hard he was trying to concentrate after such a scare earlier in the day.

Ludwig himself, was having trouble concentrating at times. That damn Boggart kept pressing at his mind. Seeing Gilbert frightened and vulnerable like that -

A few times, it was a bludger to the knee or the arm that reminded him to get his head back in the game. Up in the air, with dangerous semi-sentient weapons flying the air, was no time to reflect on personal feelings and emotions. That had no room in Quidditch.

After practice, when he had finished changing and just before everyone departed for the night, he approached Kurstin, who was buttoning up her jacket to leave.

"Kurstin," he greeted, rather gruffly, and mentally winced when he saw the alarm in her eyes.

"What is it, Captain?"

"Are you doing anything tonight?"

He watched the alarm in her eyes only grow, with confusion added into that. "No...is something the matter?"

Ludwig cleared his throat, trying the best way to phrase what he needed to say. "Would I be able to...chat with you for a bit at your place?" He shot a glance in Gilbert's direction, who was busy polishing his Dynamo broomstick.

Kurstin slowly followed his gaze with confusion, and it took a few moments before realization overcame her features. "O-oh! Oh. Yes. Absolutely." She smiled and winked. "Come over any time. I'll prepare tea."

Then she walked off, very proud of herself, and Ludwig just exhaled a long breath. Perhaps this was a mistake. He could only hope that Kurstin had even the vaguest concept of "confidentiality"...maybe he was better off just bottling up this conversation.

They all went home after that, and Gilbert immediately settled in on the dining room table to begin doing homework.

"You like doing homework, huh?" Ludwig asked him, seeing him already nose-deep in his 'Introduction to Spellcasting' book.

"Oh yeah," Gilbert grinned at him. "Imagine it, Ludwig. Kids dream of levitating things and casting magic spells and read books and stories about wizards and such...then finding out it's actually real? I don't' want to take advantage of that. This is all way too fascinating." He paused then, tapping the end of his quill against the table. "I guess you wouldn't understand, if you've been raised around it."

Ludwig raised an eyebrow at that. "Hey now," he said slowly, "that isn't exactly the case."

His Keeper slowly shifted in his seat and turned to look at him with a raised brow. "Explain."

"You and I have a bit more in common than you think," Ludwig explained. He realized just how closed-off to Gilbert he had been since they had met; Gilbert had no idea of his origin. Not that it was anything exciting or noteworthy, and that was probably why he had never mentioned anything. Not like Gilbert had asked, either.

"Like you, I come from a mixed family. My mother is a muggle, and my father is a wizard," he began.

Gilbert gasped, leaning forward in rapt attention. Homework was temporarily forgotten. "No way."

His attention made Ludwig smiled just a bit. "Yes way." He then continued his story. "Well my father is a wizard and my mother is a muggle. They met when they both worked for the government. My father worked of course with magic and my mother with muggles. They met at some...function of sorts, began to date, all of that."

"So when did your mother know about magic and wizards and stuff?" Gilbert asked.

"She never did," Ludwig said with a small sigh. "I suppose it was clear from the start that my mother would never accept such a thing - she is very religious. A dying breed, I know, but she is. Still is. My father, I suppose, just knew that it would be trouble if he told her, and undoubtedly the end of the relationship…but he loved her. He still does. So he gave up magic."

Gilbert gasped at that. "He gave that up? Everything?"

"Yes," Ludwig said with a nod. "He changed departments, moved in with her, changed his clothes and hung up his wand. He learned how to drive a car and live a life without magic."

"So when did she find out?" he asked, eyes wide.

Ludwig held up one finger to keep Gilbert's enthusiasm in check. "He dated her as a muggle. They got married, bought a house together in Bonn, and...I came along. I lived the first ten years of my life as a regular muggle boy. Odd things would happen to me now and then - things would move, and once a window shattered when I got very angry at a schoolboy who was bullying a girl - but for the most part I had a 'normal 'muggle childhood,"

"What happened next?"

"When I turned ten years old, I received - like all magical children - a written invitation in the mail to attend magical education in Bavaria. It came through the post. At first, I didn't think much of it - I had no idea what magic was, so I threw it away, thinking it was a prank. The next day, another letter came. Again, in the trash. THen another one, but my mother saw it before I could. She opened it and showed it to my father -" Gilbert's eyes were as wide as saucers at this point, even though Ludwig himself did not think the story was that exciting, "-and that was when he explained everything. A ten...twelve year secret, undone just like that. He was expecting it, of course; he knew that I was magical after all. He showed her magic, and some of the magical world, and even took us both to a Quidditch match. I was floored by all of it; it was like some fantasy adventure had come to life before my eyes."

Gilbert nodded avidly in understanding. "What did your mother think?"

At this, Ludwig pursed his lips. "She...was not as enthusiastic, to say the least," he said slowly. "She did not like it. Any of it. Poor woman. It was so very overwhelming, that summer was. I think it was a mixture of the strangeness of it all, and her religion got to the best of her, and...well, when it came time for me to accept my invitation to the Academy, she said if I left, she would not support my magical endeavors. She was, to an extent, disowning me. "

"How could she demand that of a child?" Gilbert scoffed. "What did you say?"

Ludwig shrugged, offering his hands out. "I'm here, aren't I? I chose magic. I came home for Christmas, Easter, and Summer holidays, but magic was not allowed to be practised or even discussed. I could not don my robes, or have my wand out. She had told the neighbors that I was accepted to a prestigious academy in Switzerland, one for gifted children. My father, however, relished in it. He was very proud of me, and still is. He goes to many of my matches - always alone, though. I think he felt somewhat liberated when I embraced my magical genes. My mother has not seen me play even once."

"So are they still like...together?"

The Captain rose to his feet, brushing off his knees. "I suppose so. Distantly, though. My mother took it very hard, learning that my father was something she had never known of. I'm not sure if they still love each other." He cleared his throat. "Now. I have to be off, to see Kurstin. I have to speak with her about something. The point of that was to say that I understand your enthusiasm for magic. I used to wake up early to do my homework."

He turned to leave, but Gilbert's voice behind him made him stop. "Thank you, Ludwig. You were talking to me and I realized that I didn't know a lot about you at all. So you should talk about yourself more, because I like hearing about it."

A nervous gulp and a stiff nod. "Of course, Gilbert. I'll see you later."

He left in a hurry.

Ludwig had forgotten it was October, and therefore Halloween season, until he approached Kurstin's ground-floor apartment. the windows, doors, patio, balcony, and even part of the lawn was completely covered in Halloween decorations. Plastic Jack-O-Lanturns, orange string lights, fake cobwebs and toy spiders, and other ghoulish decorations made Kurstin's corner of the building look like the entrance to a themed ride.

While many witches and wizards enjoyed Halloween (usually as an excuse to get drunk), Kurstin celebrated in excess. She had a very strange quirk - she loved witches. Not actual witches, she would always have to clarify, but "muggle" witches.

She loved the stereotypical ones; haggard old ladies dressed in black, pointed brimmed hats, with black cat companions flying their broomsticks over a full moon or cackling over a steaming cauldron, and also witches from the modern era that muggles saw every day - Kurstin had bought a television set just so she could almost obsessively watch Bewitched, Sabrina the Teenage Witch, Kiki's Delivery Service, and whatever foolishness muggles decided to grace their world with.

Halloween was her holiday. Every October without fail, she would dress up as either the Wicked Witch of the West or the Good Witch of the East and attend children's Halloween parties, handing out candy and performing petty magic. Two years prior she had been fined by the Berlin government for being seen on Halloween night, flying on her broomstick through muggle neighborhoods and cackling loudly, tossing candy from a singing Jack-O-Lantern on the back of her broom.

He approached her door, a paper cut-out of the Wicked Witch of the West grinning back at him from her taped placement on the door, and knocked several times.

Kurstin answered after several minutes, grinning at him. "Good evening," she said, stepping aside to let him in.

Ludwig went inside, removed his shoes, and then looked around him as he headed to the living room. Kurstin had immediately ducked into the kitchen to make tea. Sure enough, as Ludwig was expecting, her house again was covered in paper and plastic Halloween decorations. "Have you ever thought about magical decorations?" Ludwig asked. Everything was stationary, bought from muggle shops and sales.

"Oh, it just isn't the same," he heard her call from the other room. "Muggle decorations just have a special...charm to them."

Ludwig approached the couch and saw a large black cat curled in the corner of one of the cushions. "Hello, Salem," he said. Kurstin had owned that cat since as long as he had known her, which was about five years now. The cat lifted his head and watched him silently with big, yellow eyes, before finding him sufficiently boring, and put his head back down to sleep.

Ludwig saw that there was a programme that was paused on the television. Just from the looks of it, it was some Halloween-themed show or film. "What did I interrupt?" he called to Kurstin.

"Hocus Pocus!" she announced, soon emerging from the kitchen with two mugs of tea. "It's a wonderful film, about these three witches who-"

"Alright, alright, I get it," Ludwig waved off the explanation with a sigh and accepted the tea.

Kurstin shooed Salem off of the couch and then sat down next to her captain, watching him intently. "So," she started, taking a sip of tea before setting the mug down. "Talk to me."

She wasn't exactly known for beating around the bush, and it made Ludwig wince. He supposed there would be no getting around the issue, at least not for long. "Something happened today, before practice," he began.

"Is that why you were late?"

Ludwig nodded, swallowing his nerves with a gulp of hot tea. He slowly explained the Boggart incident to her. "...I managed to get it back into the closet," he finished. "But he was terrified. He didn't realize that...the threat was not a real one. I eventually calmed him down but…"

"He seemed fine at practice," Kurstin said quietly.

"Did he?"

"A bit slow at first, but everyone was off their game. Max didn't have Frederick, Johann was still hung up over missing out on the last game, and you two were late...it was a good practice but, we were just all kind of off."

Ludwig took this in and nodded slowly. "I suppose he's gotten good at hiding his feelings…"

He saw Kurstin roll her eyes and look momentarily fed up. "Did the Boggart actually see you, Ludwig? Before it was back in the closet?"

"Yes…" Ludwig had a feeling he knew where this was going.

She scooted just a bit closer to him, watching him very intently. "And...what did it turn into?" Before Ludwig could react, she had leaned in very close to his face with an intense look. "And don't lie to me...you're terrible at it."

He sighed, resigned to his fate, and averted his eyes. "It started to turn into Gilbert," he mumbled. "But it was weird, it wasn't like I know Gilbert. Lifeless eyes and grey skin and just a horrible look…" Ludwig shuddered. He didn't like to reflect on it.

"Ah, so basically Gilbert's lifeless body." she nodded. "Sounds about right...you wouldn't be afraid of spiders or heights, no, but of Gilbert's tragic demise...how macabre."

Ludwig sighed. "Terrible?"

"In the most dramatic way," she added, looking excited for a moment. "You would make a wonderful Addams."

"A what?"

"Nevermind." She turned her head to stare at the far wall for a moment, sipping at her tea in contemplation. "How was he after practice? When you two got home?"

"Fine," Ludwig shrugged. "He got to work on his homework and we chatted for a bit about my parents. He was very excited about the whole story of my upbringing and discovery of magic."

She nodded. "Ludwig, I really don't think it was him that was affected by that Boggart. I mean, after he realized he was safe - with you, might I add - he seemed fine. At practice he was fine, at home, he's fine. I mean that's Gilbert, at least from what I know of him, things bounce off very quickly." Then she turned to him. "You, on the other hand...I have known you for a lot longer, and I knew, the moment you announced that Gilbert would live with you…" she smirked, "you were a lost cause."

"What does that mean?" Ludwig snapped.

Kurstin sighed, frustrated. "How do you feel about him?" she finally said.

That question made Ludwig uncomfortable. "I...care about him," he finally admitted.

That was not satisfactory enough for his Chaser, however. "Okay, but...how? 'Caring' comes in many forms. There's like...me and Wolfgang, for example. He is a brother to me. And then, in a different form, you have...Max and Frederick."

"But Max and Frederick are actually brothers."

Kurstin simply gave him a look. "...Again, in a different form, you have Max and Frederick."

Ludwig thought this over a few moments, not quite following, but shook it off. "I'm not quite sure, honestly."

"You are though," Kurstin said impatiently. "Ludwig your biggest fear - above any childhood nightmare, above any Quidditch end-game result, or anything - is losing Gilbert. Think about how profound that is."

He did. It certainly was profound. And in nearly every way Kurstin was right. He knew how he felt about Gilbert. That didn't make things any easier, however. "It wouldn't work, at all. One, we're on the same team. Two, we're both males. Those two points right there are a PR nightmare in the making. Three, he's so very young, he's seventeen, and I am twenty-five, that is just very reckless, and four, who knows how he feels-"

"Please!" Kurstin scoffed. "I know how he feels. We all do. He adores you, Ludwig. You are the sparkle in his eye and the spring in his step! He came to you at the end of his rope - he said this himself, remember - as a last, desperate attempt to be noticed, validated, and be saved, and you did. You have given him a home, an education, an income, and a career that men and women would die for. You are his entire world, Ludwig. That is not going to change."

He shifted uncomfortably, eventually putting his down his half-finished mug of tea. "I suppose. So you're telling me...I should say something?"

"That's what you came to hear, right?"

Maybe that was what he needed to hear. That it wasn't all in his head. That it wasn't strange or wrong, that maybe he just needed a little push.

Kurstin grinned and stood up, offering her hand to him. Ludwig took it and stood up. "Now, Ludwig," Kurstin put her hands on his shoulders. "Homework for you."

"Kurstin, please-"

"Homework!" She turned him around and began to march him towards the door. "You ask him to dinner."

"But-"

"Dinner!" With that, Kurstin practically shoved him out the door. "A nice place! Suit and tie, reservations, four stars, everything! Take him, treat him right! Or I'll kick your ass. This time next week, I want all the details about your newly-awakened love life. Wear cologne!" Before Ludwig could protest or even get a word out, she had slammed the door shut. The Wicked Witch of the West stared back at him judgingly.

Ludwig sighed, slumping his shoulders. He had no idea how that had gone. A success? In some ways. But in other ways...well, he might have been further than when he started. So, after hearing the faint noise of the television having resumed its programme, Ludwig slowly trudged home.

When he arrived, it was dark, and upon entering the house he noticed that Gilbert had fallen asleep on his homework (again). Fortunately, it appeared to be finished. His arms were folded on the table over an open textbook and his head rested in them. He came up behind the boy and shook his head affectionately when he saw the essay that Gilbert had been working on - halfway through he saw that Gilbert was having trouble with the ink on his quill and had switched to ballpoint pen.

Slowly, Ludwig reached out and gently pet Gilbert's hair. It was soft and smooth, and only a bit longer than when they had first met. He supposed that Gilbert had gotten good at trimming it himself. He let go before things could get too creepy and instead nudged his shoulder, whispering his name. It took a few tries, but he finally got Gilbert to lift his head up.

"Wha?" he muttered sleepily.

"Come on," Ludwig nudged his shoulder once more. "Let's get you to bed. You had a big day today."

Gilbert stood up sleepily and fumbled to put his books and papers away before going off with Ludwig, yawning. He was dropped off in his bedroom, where Ludwig stood in the doorway and watched Gilbert get settled in. He contemplated saying anything for several moments, before finally opening his mouth just as Gilbert put his head on the pillow.

"Gilbert, do you, uh...want to go to dinner sometime this week or something?" He cringed internally. That sounded awful. What, was he fifteen again?

"Huh?" the boy perked his head up with a yawn. "Dinner together? Like make an evening of it?"

Ludwig shrugged. "Sure."

He watched Gilbert smile knowingly, contemplating for a moment before he nodded enthusiastically. "That would be nice, Ludwig. It's a date."

A/N: No, I have not forgotten about our boys and our favourite Quidditch team! I just have had a very busy life and an uphill battle against a terrible thing such as 'motivation'.

Next chapter...a date! Finally! How will it go? Will Ludwig at least get to first base? Will he confess his feelings? Who knows?!

I enjoyed fleshing out Ludwig's backstory and Kurstin's personal life int his one. I realized that I had never posted Ludwig's origins several chapters so it has been a bit of a challenge to somehow get him to open up and talk about his parents. I figured that this was the perfect time ;) Enjoy!