A/N: This is a story that I got an idea for while I was in the middle of a chapter for my other story, Lola Barton. Obviously, this is a JE/HP crossover fanfic, which there are definitely not enough of on this site. It's kinda the same as Lola Barton, but it's also kinda different. I'm not giving up on Lola Barton, but I got this down on paper and just had to publish it.
Anyhoo, I sincerely hope you enjoy this!
Disclaimer: Don't own JE or HP.
Despite the buckets of rain that were pouring down on her head, fifteen year old Stephanie Plum made her way slowly up the steps to the small house on the end of the street. It was nice, small and nondescript to say the least, but Stephanie could see why James and Lily had decided to stay there.
Suddenly, halfway up the steps, Stephanie stopped, pulling her coat more tightly around her face and squinted against the rain, which had begun just fifteen minutes ago but had already soaked her clear through to the bone.
Could she actually do this? Would she do this?
Before Stephanie could further ponder her situation, the door flew open, a beam of light spilling onto the porch, interrupted only by the shadow of one Lily Potter.
"Get your arse in here!" Lily shouted over the sound of the rain. "You'll catch your death out there!"
Stephanie ran carefully up the rest of the steps and past a frowning Lily into the house.
"Can't believe I let you walk to the store," Lily grumbled, shutting the door and turning to face a shivering Stephanie. "James would have given you a ride, you know."
"Yeah, well, James had to do an emergency shift," Stephanie replied, setting a plastic bag on the floor and pulling off her soaked coat. "He wouldn't have had time. Besides, I needed the exercise."
Lily snorted as she took Stephanie's jacket and hung it on a hook to dry. "That's rich, coming from you."
"It's true," Stephanie replied indignantly, slipping off her Converse and wet socks.
Lily frowned down at the sight of Stephanie's soaked attire.
"Oh, come on; let's go find you some dry clothes. This is pathetic." Lily gestured to the wet clothing before taking Stephanie's hand and leading her to the guest bedroom.
Twenty minutes later, Stephanie emerged from the bathroom wearing a pair of blue Rangers sweatpants and a black long-sleeve, pulling her wet hair into a messy bun on the top of her head.
As she sat down on the bed, Lily extended a steaming mug of hot chocolate towards her –Stephanie took it gratefully, eyeing Lily's own mug of tea with distaste. She couldn't abide by the stuff, even if she wanted to.
"Thanks," she murmured before taking an exploratory sip.
They were silent for a few minutes, each sipping their respective drinks, not knowing what to say.
Finally, Lily folded her legs over each other, and set her mug on the night table next to the bed.
"Stephanie."
Stephanie stared stubbornly into her hot chocolate and swirled it, hoping that she could see the answers in the melting whipped cream.
"You're going to have to tell me at some point. You've been here for a month, and neither James nor I know what's going on. What happened to make your parents want to send you here?"
A single teardrop fell into the mug.
Stephanie's hands trembled as she reluctantly tilted her head up to meet Lily's green eyes.
"I'm pregnant."
As a rule, Isobel Andrew Stephanie Potter tended to avoid conversation with people she didn't know. They weren't necessarily trustworthy, and, besides, Isobel didn't often encounter someone she actually wanted to converse with. However, as soon as the redheaded boy and the bucktoothed, bushy-haired girl sat down in the compartment on the Hogwarts Express, Isobel was suddenly ready to share her life's story with the two.
"You've got dirt on your nose," the girl, Hermione Granger, was saying pedantically to the redheaded boy. "Did you notice? Right there." She pointed to a spot on the side of her own nose.
The boy, Ron Weasley, pointedly sneered at Hermione in return, before turning back to Isobel.
"You don't really look like an Isobel," said Ron observationally.
"That was quite rude," sniffed Hermione, before taking the seat next to Ron. "But he's right."
"Not in a bad way!" Ron replied defensively. "It's just that your name isn't quite epic enough to fit your reputation."
"Fair enough." Isobel leaned back in her seat, closely examining a Bertie Bott's Every Flavored Bean before tossing it in her mouth. "What do I look like, then?" She made a face, and spat out the Bean. Vomit.
"Drew."
At the questioning glances of Isobel and Ron, Hermione let out a sigh.
"Your middle name is 'Andrew', isn't it? It's different, fitting."
"It's bloody wicked is what it is." Ron grinned.
Isobel thought for a moment, then grinned conspiratorially.
"I like it. Makes me want to get into trouble."
Hermione rolled her eyes.
"A name cannot possibly make you get into trouble."
Oh, how wrong she was.
The first-years had all gathered in the Entrance Hall, and Professor McGonagall had just gone inside to make sure that everything was ready for the Sorting Ceremony.
It was dead silent, and Drew, who was towards the front of the group, knew without a shadow of a doubt that nearly all eyes were on her.
"Well, well, well."
Drew turned, and watched as a skinny, pale boy with slicked white-blond hair came to stand in front of her.
"It's true, then. What they were saying on the train."
Drew's eyebrows raised. "Oh?"
He nodded, a smirk gracing his gaunt features.
"Isobel Potter has come to Hogwarts."
"Actually, I go by Drew, now," Drew replied coolly.
Murmurs of excitement went through the crowd, and the blond gestured to the fat boys behind him.
"Fair enough. This is Crabbe, and Goyle. And I'm Malfoy."
He stuck out his hand.
"Draco Malfoy."
Ron snickered, and Malfoy shot him a disdainful look.
"You think my name's funny, do you?" he asked with raised eyebrows. "No need to ask yours." He looked Ron up and down demeaningly. "Red hair, and a hand-me-down robe? You must be a Weasley."
He looked back to Drew. "You'll soon find out some wizarding families are better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there."
Malfoy's hand was still extended, and Drew reached out a hand to daintily push it aside.
"Your name is just as funny to me as it is to him," she deadpanned, gesturing with her head to Ron. "And you look more like the wrong sort to me than he does."
There was a gasp from some of the students, and Malfoy looked affronted.
"You'll regret that, Potter," he spat, stepping forward in an attempt to intimidate her. "I'll make sure of it."
"You can sure as hell try," Drew replied venomously, staring defiantly into his ice cold eyes. "In fact," she spat, "I dare you."
Malfoy looked like he could've thrown a punch, but McGonagall clamped a hand down on his shoulder.
"Where to put you, where to put you...You are a difficult and complicated one, indeed, Miss Potter...A heart full of bravery, loyalty and honor...Very smart, no doubt about that, not a bad mind at all...But there's cunning in your mind, a thirst to prove yourself...Resourceful, cunning, ambitious...Determined, highly determined...You would do well in-"
"Not Slytherin," Drew pleaded in her mind. "Not Slytherin."
"Not Slytherin, eh? Are you sure? You have all the makings to be great, you know, and it's all here in your head -And Slytherin would help you on your way to greatness, no doubt about that."
Drew was adamant. "Not Slytherin."
"Well, if you're sure...Better be Gryffindor!"
It was the end of first year, and the trio had just made their way through the Devil's Snare.
"That was a lot of work," Ron panted, voice slightly hoarse from screaming so much.
"Lot of trouble is what it was," Drew replied.
Hermione eyed the pair.
"Perhaps we should have picked a different name," she said warily.
It was the end of fourth year, and the trio had just watched the Durmstrang and Beauxbatons students leave Hogwarts.
They were walking down a corridor, when Ron suddenly asked, "D'you think we'll ever have a quiet year?"
"Never!" Drew replied with a laugh. "You are best friends with me, after all."
Ron shot a worried glance at Hermione.
"We should have picked a different name!" Ron cried in mock-outrage. "Maybe we could have avoided all this!"
Hermione and Drew burst into giggles, and Ron just grinned.
Suddenly, Hermione stopped walking.
Drew shot a glance to Ron before turning to see Hermione staring out a window.
"Everything's going to change, now, isn't it?"
Drew took a step towards her.
"Yes."
It was the middle of the summer before fifth year, and Sirius was pulling Drew around Grimmauld Place by the hand.
"Come on, Bambi," Sirius teased, using his pet nickname for Drew as he tugged her up to the fourth floor. "I've got something to show you."
Just off the staircase and at the beginning of a long hallway was a door that Sirius threw open without hesitation.
"It's a bedroom," Drew commented as she followed her godfather inside the seemingly unremarkable space. Curiously, she eyed the big oak desk in the corner, which had a large amount of paper strewn over it. Running a hand over a dresser at her side, Drew pulled her hand away to find it grey with dust. "Not a very clean bedroom."
"Not a very clean house," Sirius replied from the doorway. "But this isn't just any old bedroom, Bambi."
"Oh?" Drew noticed the telltale Gryffindor-red comforter on the queen-sized bed in the middle of the room. "I'm guessing this didn't belong to any of your family," she said as she sat down on the edge of the bed.
"Actually, they were the closest thing to a family I ever had."
Drew looked up at Sirius questioningly as he sat down on the bed next to her.
"Your parents, Bambi," Sirius told her softly.
Drew shot off the bed, and began pacing the room. It was as if the air had been sucked out of the room, and had been replaced with lead.
"I thought it might be fitting if you were to have it."
Drew's eyes fell on the photograph next to the nightstand, and her pacing slowed. It was the one of Lily and James Potter dancing next to the fountain, and the smiles on their faces suddenly seemed unfitting to the mood of the room.
"Are you asking me to move in with you, Sirius?" she asked, eyes lingering on the photo.
"If you want," Sirius replied.
"Yes," she said instantly.
Sirius nodded, but said nothing as he watched Drew move to the desk and stare down at the papers.
They were letters, mostly; some in Lily's elegantly sloped handwriting, and some in James's furiously slanted scrawl.
Drew traced her fingers over the thick paper, feeling the tiny difference in texture where the ink had marked the paper.
She could almost feel them sitting there with her, could almost see them writing these letters to various people. It was a time capsule, this place, where everything had been left alone, waiting on her, for her arrival.
When Sirius stood and quietly strode out of the room, Drew glanced momentarily over her shoulder, but quickly turned her attention back to the desk.
Cautiously, Drew sat down in the worn leather chair; she was unsure if it was an action she should have taken, but her gut was pushing her to do it, leading her by the hand as if to take her to something important. With slow motions, Drew pulled open the top drawer of the desk.
It was full of pens, inkwells, paperclips, everything office-oriented, and nothing that appeared to be special.
Drew dug deeper, her instincts screaming at her to find what was at the bottom of this drawer.
Sliding her hand underneath the plastic organizer, Drew's fingers enclosed around an envelope. She tugged it out, frowning when she noticed the name on the front of the envelope.
Isobel Andrew Stephanie Potter.
Her thumbs slid trembling under the seal, breaking it with ease.
With shaking hands, Drew pulled out a few pieces of yellowed paper and a photograph of her parents with several people. Drew unfolded the papers with one hand, and held the picture in the other as she began to read;
Dearest Isobel,
If you are reading this right now, it means that we are already gone, and you are of an age to make your own decisions. There are several things we have to tell you, and they are of the utmost importance.
First of all, you must know that we will always love you, no matter what. It is so incredibly important that you know that now, and that you always remember it.
Secondly, now that you are older, we thought it would be time for you to know who your birth parents are. Know that you are also our daughter, and it will remain that way.
Your mother's name is Stephanie Plum, an American Muggle. She's the one with the wild hair in the picture. When we knew her last, she resided in a small city in New Jersey called Chambersburg, and it is doubtful that she would have gone very far outside Chambersburg.
Now, your story begins when Stephanie was around fifteen years old, and working at this little bakery called the Tasty Pastry. One day, a boy came in and asked for a bottle of water. Stephanie gave it to him, with the comment that he could go to the water fountain down the street and get water for free. His response was to say, "I know," and leave.
Apparently, this proceeded to happen for every single one of Stephanie's evening shifts for the next two weeks. Well, one day, he came in later while Stephanie was closing up the shop. She said, "If you order another damn bottle of water, I'm going to hit you."
His response was to say, "Babe," and kiss her.
Long story short, they had sex had relations "knew" each other behind the cupcake display, never even knowing each other's names.
The most we can tell you about your birth father is that he was tall, Cuban, and set to leave to begin Army training the next day.
Well, somehow, your mother's parents found out, and were not at all happy. In fact, they were livid –for future reference, the Chambersburg mindset has probably not evolved past the mid-twentieth century.
Stephanie's father, Frank Plum was, at the time, good friends with a British man by the name of Andrew Evans. By that time, however, Andrew and his wife Lucy had already died, and frank ended up reaching us. He remembered me (your mother) from when I was growing up, and begged us to let Stephanie come stay with us for awhile so that she could escape the rumor mill in Chambersburg. We lived in a tiny house on the fringe of Muggle London at the time, so we agreed, and Stephanie arrived within two weeks.
A month and a half later, Stephanie found out she was pregnant. Stephanie, being the person she was, couldn't bear to have an abortion, but also knew in her heart that she could never give a child the life it deserved when she herself was still a child at heart.
Well, seven months later, Stephanie had a beautiful baby girl she named 'Isobel'. We took one look at you, and knew that it was meant to be.
Stephanie left soon after, and it wasn't hard to see her heart shatter as soon as she set foot on that plane. It wouldn't have been surprising if Stephanie had gone home and never told a soul about what had happened while she was in England.
Between seeing Stephanie's heart break and getting you, it was the most bittersweet moment of our lives. We spent hours upon hours trying to come up with a middle name for you, and we woke you up more than once with our shouting matches.
It hit us one night, while we were putting you down for bed.
Isobel Andrew Stephanie Potter.
It was perfect.
You were perfect.
So, now, darling, you can do with this information what you want. You should know that we told Remus and Sirius, but never Peter Pettigrew. He never took much interest in you to begin with, so we didn't think he really had a right to know.
We swore Remus and Sirius to a Wizard's Oath to not tell you unless you approached them first. We wanted you to be ready to talk about it, so we're leaving the decisions up to you.
Whatever you decide, Isobel, we will always support you. Blood daughter or not, you have the courage of generations of Gryffindors running through your veins –follow your instincts and you will not go wrong.
We love you darling, with all our hearts.
Be safe, but above that, always be strong.
All our love,
Mum and Dad.
Drew dropped the papers, and slid out of the chair into a ball on the floor.
Should I keep going? Review, por favor!