Hey kids! I took a little longer writing this one than the last one, so I hope it's better :3 Voting is closed, so hope that your pairing won, kids!~

A Broken Encounter

Arthur sat at his breakfast table with his family. It had taken a year or so, but they'd all moved on from the disappearance of their friend (though he had a feeling that Molly would never truly forgive him for turning so easily on a boy that had practically been her son). He turned the page of the Daily Profit and choked on his coffee, sputtering as he read the headline over again.

Massacre Of Simone Antov And Family

"Oh dear lord…Molly, look at this!"

Molly rushed over from her place looking at her children play Quidditch in the yard and over to her husband. She gasped and clamped a hand over her mouth, tears coming to her eyes.

"That can't be right. The Bulgarian woman from the World Cup? Why would anyone—"

"Mum?" Fred and George walked in the kitchen door, pushing Ron playfully before stopping at the look on their mother's face. "Mum, what's wrong?"

Arthur read quietly from the paper, his voice barely above a whisper, "Bulgarian witch, Simone Antov was found dead in her home next to her three-year-old grandson and twenty-four-year-old daughter. When questioned, Mrs. Antov's son, Anthony Antov, confirmed that his cousin, Vincent, had been in the home at the time of the murders and he is assumed dead—"

"What?" George yelled, appearing scared out of his mind.

"George," Fred said gently to his brother. "What's wrong?"

"I…"

"He was your pen-friend, wasn't he?" Ginny spoke up. "That Vincent boy, weren't you writing to him this summer?"

"Yeah, yeah I was…" George said, calming down only a little after Ginny unknowingly saved him from spouting out the truth.

"Well, that's awful," Arthur said. He placed a hand on his son's shoulder. "There's always a possibility he got out of the house in time, George. The paper did say that he was just assumed dead."

George sighed and tried his best to smile, though the sinking feeling didn't leave him, "Yeah, you're right."

"All right, I think we need to send a letter to Anthony with our respects, hm?"

There was a murmur of agreement before everyone went back to what they'd been doing before, slightly more depressed at the news.

George waited until he was sure that no one was watching him and jogged up the stairs to his room. He opened his door and was so happy he almost cried when he saw Balisk's owl grooming itself on his window sill. It held no letter for him, but he supposed that Balisk knew the paper would print that story and had sent him as a signal that he was okay.

"Thank God…" George sighed, giving the owl a little treat and petting its feathers before sending it on its way.

He just hoped that Balisk was safe, wherever he was.

*break*

Balisk shivered as he made his way through a small, muggle town. When he'd passed the city limits sign, it had stated that the town had a population of about eight hundred. He'd thought that maybe he'd be able to stay there for a good while before he had to move on—maybe even get a temporary job and get some money. He ran a hand through his hair with a little spark of happiness since he'd been able to spell the dye from his hair and go back to his pale blonde—though he wished he could've gone back to his eye treatments instead of keeping his glasses.

"Psst, hey kid," Someone called his attention from an alley and he followed the voice to a cleanly-shaven man standing with his hands in his pockets. "You new here?"

Balisk had no idea where "here" was. He'd caught a random Portkey with a large group of wizards that he was able to blend into. He was positive he was out of Bulgaria, but it seemed to be just as cold.

"Uh, yeah," Balisk said with uncertainty.

"Got a strange accent, there," The man laughed and Balisk scowled.

"Where I come from, you have the queer accent."

"No one said anything about being gay here."

Balisk's face showed his plain confusion, "Queer means strange and gay means happy. Speak the king's English would you? I wasn't calling you a homosexual."

"Okay, Shakespeare, I get it. What I was trying to say is that I can help you." The man said, rolling his eyes at the offended look Balisk had after being called "Shakespeare".

"Fine, how can you help me?" Balisk crossed his arms across his chest and raised an eyebrow.

"You sound foreign, so I assume you don't have a green card," Balisk had learned about green cards from an American pen-friend he'd had a few years back. He fought off the little spike of anger than came from the man assuming that he wasn't a citizen because he sounded different. Then again, he really couldn't talk since he wasn't. "I can forge you some…For the right price."

"I don't have any money, sorry." Balisk shrugged.

"I'm sure you can pay me in other ways," The man said lecherously, his eyes grazing up and down Balisk's thin body hungrily.

"I'm not a prostitute. No thank you." Balisk growled, glaring at the man and pulling his coat tighter around himself.

"Fine, let's see how far you get without papers."

Balisk bit his lip and—much to his horror—thought about the idea the man was proposing and trying to figure out how he would get by without certification. In the end, he decided that, while desperate, he did have a bit of pride left.

He shook his head stubbornly and stomped away from the man through the snow. He sighed when he got to a shop and looked in his pockets. He found three knuts and one galleon, but nothing he could use at a muggle shop.

"What that you've got there, son?" An older, fatherly-looking man walked up to him, looking into his hand. Balisk hurried to put the wizard money back into his pocket, but seemed too late as the man looked confused for a moment. "Where did you get that money?"

"I, uh…"

"That's very valuable money, you know. You shouldn't steal—"

"I didn't steal it!" Balisk shouted indignantly. "I brought this from home."

The man looked surprised for a moment before leaning in closer to him, "What school did you go to, son?"

Balisk looked at him, "Hogwarts. That's in England."

The man's face broke into a smiled and he clapped Balisk on the back, "What's your name, son?"

"Balisk," He shrugged, no longer caring if there was a news story on his family. He just didn't want to lie anymore. The man smiled again.

"Right wizard name, that is. I'm Jonathan and my house is right up here. I've got a son about your age and a wife. She's a fantastic cook," Jonathan looked at his stomach. "I bet you could use a good meal, eh?"

Balisk mulled it over and decided that maybe, just maybe, this was the escape he was looking for.

"I'd love to."

*break*

"So you left home?" Jonathan asked, sitting down at the circular table that Balisk was already seated at.

Balisk nodded, looking down, "I didn't want to, but the—my family was going to kick me out anyway. I was about to leave when I heard my dad tell my mum that he was kicking me out."

Jonathan reached over and put his hand over Balisk's, a look of pure sympathy on his face. "I'm very sorry, no child deserves to hear that."

"Don't I know it," Balisk sighed, leaning his chin into his hand and setting his elbow on the table. "The worst part is that I had to leave my brothers behind. George—he's my older brother—he, uh, he tried to talk me out of it. I've owled him since, but…It's hard. He sent me a letter saying our little sister almost caught him reading one of my letters. My mum would've dragged me into the country by my ear if she found out."

Jonathan smiled, "Well, at least you know they care."

Balisk nodded and smiled.

"Is there…Anyone else you want to go back for?" Jonathan asked cautiously, as if asking one of his children who they had a crush on.

Balisk flushed and looked down again, "Erm, just a bit…That's part of it too. I have a professor who's always given me good advice in the past. I just…I wish I could get his opinion on this, too."

Jonathan's eyes sparkled, "Dumbledore?"

"Bloody hell!" Balisk said in disbelief. "Why does every bloody wizard know Dumbledore?"

"He's very famous in the wizarding world," Jonathan winked. "I can set up a Portkey, get you a disguise in case you decide against staying…"

Balisk looked at him. "You'd do that for me?"

Jonathan shrugged, "I just like to make people realize that not everyone on the planet is as apathetic to other people's troubles as they seem to be."

"Thank you," Balisk breathed, amazed at the perfect stanger's kindness. "I…Thank you."

Jonathan waved him off, "It's not a problem."

*break*

"Do you want me to go with you? I can tell Anna," Jonathan said as Balisk ran a hand through his hair, a bit miffed at the red dye the older wizard had put into it. He then touched his nose, which was just the slightest bit longer.

"I looked like my younger brother," Balisk added under his breath: "I wonder how the gangly freak's doing…"

"It's all set up," Jonathan reminded him.

"I think I'll be fine on my own," Balisk said.

"All right, five seconds."

Balisk hurriedly grabbed the Portkey (an old teddy bear) and gasped when he felt something grab him just above his bellybutton.

Before he knew it, he'd landed on his knees in the middle of a school yard.

"Lord knows I missed this place," Balisk whisper in awe to himself, seeing Hogwarts in all its glory for the first time in nearly two years. It seemed to be later here than where he was, so the only light that was on was in Hagrid's cabin and a small window in the main castle.

"Dumbledore's office," Balisk muttered.

He set off for the main doors, reaching them in a matter of minutes. Carefully, he pushed one open, wincing slightly at the long creak it emitted.

"What do you think you're doing?" A chilling voice asked.

Balisk jumped almost a foot in the hair and gripped his heart, seeing only Snape in front of him, raising a dark eyebrow.

"And just who are you?"

"Francis Drake," Balisk breathed coolly. "I'm here to see Dumbledore."

"Oh really?" Snape countered. "What do you have to discuss with him."

"None of your business, that's what. Just take me to his office."

Snape rolled his eyes and turned, his robes sweeping around him. Balisk followed him up and down the shifting staircases before they came to a door being guarded by a gargoyle.

"Lemon drops," Snape said in a bored tone.

The gargoyle lept aside and Snape stepped away, waving a hand for Balisk to continue on. The newly red-head nodded and started climbing the stairs, hearing a faint humming that grew louder the closer he got to the office he knew awaited him at the top.

"Um, Professor Dumbledore?" Balisk asked when he approached the door to his headmaster's office.

The humming paused followed by a cough and a faint, "Come in."

Balisk turned the knob and pushed the door, revealing an office he'd been in far too many times in the past. He saw Dumbledore sitting in his chair, leaning forward on with his elbows on the desk.

"It's been too long, Francis," Dumbledore smiled knowingly and motioned for him to sit down before waving his wand and shutting the door. "To what do I owe this rare visit?"

"I have, er…" Balisk coughed uncomfortably. "A rather personal matter to discuss with you."

Dumbledore smiled again, "Well, you know you can tell me anything. I'm always willing to give advice."

Balisk breathed and closed his eyes, "Have you ever been in love?" His voice was barely above a whisper, and when the words were out he found he didn't feel much better than when he'd walked in.

"Once, when I was very young—about your age I'd say."

Balisk looked up, slightly surprised, "Really?"

"Oh yes," Dumbledore chuckled. "If I were more technical, I would say I was in love twice—but I'm fairly certain one of them was just youthful admiration. I'd never felt that way before, so I suppose I assumed."

"Who was your second love?"

Dumbledore's eyes sparkled, "Someone who shall remain nameless. We are still in contact with each other."

"Are you…Like, married?" Balisk asked, trying to find a way to sound less awkward.

"Ah, I suppose we could be, but circumstance has made it impossible for us to be together. He visits often enough, but it feels like an eternity between each time. I'm sure you know the feeling?"

"All too well," Balisk sighed. "They…H-He, he's almost like a brother to me. I've offered advice like a brother and then…This. It's awful, I hate it."

Dumbledore smiled and, for the first time, Balisk felt slightly annoyed with him, "You shouldn't hate the feeling, Balisk—" Balisk flinched a little at being called the name he hadn't been known as for so long. "It is rare and not many have the joy to experience it."

"I just don't know what to do anymore. I think I should try to find Ashton."

"Balisk, I'm afraid to say that…Your brother was found by some wizards who'd been travelling near the place where you were held. He was kept in St. Mungo's, but…"

"He's dead?" Balisk guessed, his voice breaking.

"Not quite. His mind is broken far beyond repair. There is nothing our medicine can do for him. He will never recover. I'm very sorry."

Balisk nodded. He had yet to decide if he'd rather his brother be in the state he was in or just dead. He though he preferred the latter, because Ashton had once been a lively person and would hate to know that he could no longer do anything on his own.

"So that's one thing I don't have to go around the globe for," Balisk sighed. "What else?"

"Education?" Dumbledore suggested. "You could start back here under an alias."

Balisk wrinkled his delicate nose, "The twins would recognize me. Plus, Anthony taught me a lot while I was in Bulgaria. I think I'm at graduation level, anyway."

"All right…" Dumbledore thought for a moment. "Would you like a job?"

"What?" Balisk looked up at him. "Someone would still recognize me."

Dumbledore shook his head, "You misunderstand. I mean a job in, say, the kitchens. Working with house elves that see no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil, etc…"

Balisk bit his lip in thought, thinking about Dumbledore's offer.

"Well, it's better than doing nothing," Balisk said. He stood and grinned, shaking his former-professor's hand. "I'll take it."

"Fantastic. We're happy to have you, Mr. Drake."

Balisk laughed and did something akin to a curtsey, "And I am happy to be here, Mr. Dumbledore."

The two shared a laugh and Balisk smiled to himself.

While he wasn't exactly at home, he was at least in his homeland, in the school that had nurtured him through his hellish childhood with Ana and Becker—the same school that had introduced him to all the friends that he had had such a painful parting with.

It was close enough.

*OWARI*

…HE LOVES NEVILLE.

I'm kidding, but I decided to keep it a mystery, even though for some people it might not be. It'll be definitely revealed next chapter.

Love you children!