So this came about with a drabble request. Anon wanted an adult-Ludwig and teen-Gilbert AU where they aren't brothers, and I added the crossover aspect just for fun. There will be eventual Germancest, because that's my OTP. That is, if Ludwig doesn't throttle Gilbert first. Enjoy!

Ludwig had just finished an 8-hour practice session, and now he was relaxing in a pub, enjoying time with his team and, for once in a while, not having to think about Quidditch.

That was until someone came up to him. And spoke.

Usually when people saw him and his team together they didn't say much unless they were in Quidditch robes and obviously accepting the attention of adoring fans. And usually when that happened, they didn't go after the Beater.

Except when that Beater was also the team Captain.

Ludwig didn't mind discussing strategy and logistics with those who had a certain level of intelligence, but when it came to the screaming fans and autograph-seekers he was usually in the back, relishing in his relative obscurity compared to the rest of his teammates. He wasn't very charismatic, didn't really have any answers to interview questions beyond his plans for his team, and didn't do well in front of a camera. Despite this (or perhaps because of it), he had boosted his team, the Berlin Badgers, to unprecedented levels of success. In no time, it was speculated, they would make it to the World Cup for the first time.

That's why what people thought about him or his team wasn't even a shadow of thought in his mind, until someone spoke to him.

"I want you to teach me to play Quidditch."

He put his beer down, slowly, and he turned to look at the figure standing next to him.

Some kind of kid, with white hair and red eyes and what looked like hand-me-down clothing. The kid wasn't even wearing robes - but yet, it was the summertime.

"Excuse me?" Ludwig said.

"I want you to teach me to play Quidditch." he repeated. His eyes were bright and determined and he stood stock-straight and unwavering.

Ludwig looked for a loss at a moment, but one his teammates fortunately came to his rescue. "Look, kid, I don't think-"

"I wasn't talking to you," the kid said sharply, with nothing but a passive glance at who had spoken. His gaze returned to Ludwig.

Ludwig sighed and closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. He didn't need this. "I'm preparing my team for the European Championship. I don't have time for you," he said simply.

"That's alright," the boy said, "I will make time for you."

The rest of the team snickered, and a sharp look from Ludwig shut them up. He then looked back to the kid. "What's your name?"

"Gilbert."

"Do you even have a broom, Gilbert?"

"Yes. I have a Dynamo."

His Seeker scoffed from the far end of the table. "A Dynamo? That's an East German model. They stopped making those in 1985…they would stop working in the middle of a game and just drop. A Dynamo is hardly even worth sweeping with-"

"Mine works fine!" Gilbert snapped, giving him a fierce glare before he looked back at Ludwig. "I know your training grounds. I will be there tomorrow at 6 o'clock in the morning. I want to learn." With that, he turned and left the pub.

Ludwig stared off at him for a moment then turned back to his team with a lost look. His fellow Beater, seated next to him, patted him on the shoulder. "You don't have to do it. Practice starts at 8 tomorrow. If he's still around, we'll just chase him off."

Ludwig nodded, and the night continued. Despite his teammates laughter and (eventual) drunken shenanigans in the pub, Ludwig restrained himself. He could not stop thinking about that boy, with the dirty clothes and the Dynamo broom and those fierce, determined eyes. He had never seen eyes like that. How interesting.

It seemed strange that Ludwig would be awake at five thirty the next morning. He had slept fine, but had awoken and been unable to go back to sleep. He could always continue to try to sleep, of course, but…

Gilbert in the training field. Alone. It was a crisp, dewey morning with a hint of chill - a good day for practice.

And for lonely boys to loiter where they shouldn't.

With a groan, Ludwig cursed how nice he was. He would feel terrible about letting some stranger wait for hours just to see him.

Strangers shouldn't have such control over you, he told himself as he pulled his practice robes on. He's just a boy and he's stupid and naive, he told himself as he pulled his gloves on and headed to the door. He doesn't even know how to play and he's wasting your time, he told himself as he made sure his door was locked for the third time and headed out to the practice field.

Sure enough, as Ludwig arrived at 5:55am, dragging behind him the chest of Quidditch balls, he saw Gilbert there, dressed in large, dingy robes and his trusty Dynamo broomstick. It was in sad shape - the fibers were broken or bent, and he could see several cracks in the handle. The screws were rusty and the metal was bent in some places and had lost all color.

Ludwig winced at the sight. "Good morning," he said.

"Good morning, Captain!" Gilbert said enthusiastically. He was about to say something else, but Ludwig cut him off.

"I'm not your Captain. Now, net's get started. Do you know the basics?"

"Yes."

"Do you learn quickly?"

"Yes."

"Good. I'm going to teach you two years of Quidditch in two hours. Have you ever been on a broom in the air?"

"Yes."

"When?"

"A year ago, sir. I hit a tree after being airborne for about ten minutes."

Ludwig sighed. It would be a long morning.

Two hours later, Ludwig sat in the locker room whilst his team around him prepared for daily practice. He was bent forward, elbows on his knees, fingers laced together and his chin resting upon them.

"Well good morning," His Seeker came up next to him and sat to lace up his boots. "You retired early last night. The groundskeeper said that he saw you here before anyone else."

"I was training Gilbert," Ludwig said without moving his eyes from the far wall.

His Seeker gasped and grinned, slowly crossing his shoulders. "Did you now? And how did that turn out? Did you have to mop up his remains off the lawn?"

Ludwig shrugged. "He fell off in the first five minutes and again halfway through the morning. His eyesight is terrible - he couldn't see the Snitch unless it was five yards in front of him. His upper arm strength is dubious at best - I've seen an angry toddler hit a Bludger harder than he could. His broom is slow and wonky and constantly flies slightly to the left - a hungry sparrow could grab a Quaffle from him." He sighed.

The Seeker laughed. "As I thought. Anyone like that-"

"…But…" Ludwig took a deep breath and narrowed his eyes. "I fired over thirty shots with him at the goal post." He slowly looked at the man next to him. "He blocked every single one of them."

The Seeker's brow raised. "Really now?"

"Every single one. I used every angle, every position, every technique I knew, and not a single one went through. He knows how to use that broom in a small space and his reflexes are extraordinary."

"You think he could be a good Keeper?"

"No," Ludwig said. "I think he could be an amazing Keeper."

Silence between the two. Finally, Ludwig spoke again. "I don't know anything about him. I don't know where he lives or where he came from or how he knows about us. But he likes Quidditch, and he has some old broomstick that doesn't work. I don't even know if he goes to school. But I do know that he has an extraordinary amount of potential." He stood up then and grabbed his broomstick, looking back at him and motioning for his team to leave to the field.

"What did you say to him?" the Seeker asked as they walked out together.

"I told him to go home," Ludwig said. "I told him I didn't have time to play coach to anyone but my own team. So I told him to go home and I left." Already he could feel that twang of guilt creeping in on him. Letting a kid like that go…no, letting potential like that go. That's all it was. His raw talent.

"Well good. We don't need distractions. We're so close to the finals, after all."

"Well…" Ludwig looked across the field and he could have sworn he saw a white head duck behind the opposite hall to the second locker room. "I have a feeling I haven't seen the last of him."