A/N: M'mkay, no JE/HP interaction here, but I am setting up LOTS of important things for the future in this chapter. There will DEFINITELY be interaction in the next chapter, so stay tuned!

Disclaimer: Don't own HP. Don't own JE. That's all I've got.

"This is a complicated case, Potter. Are you sure you can handle it?"

"Let me try."

"Alright. We're tracing a movement of Death Eaters from Britain into the US –and we've got next to no reasoning as to why. I need you to figure out why, track them down and…we'll go from there."

Drew was ready to throw a hissy fit that Draco Malfoy would have been proud of. She'd been on this case for days, and had been hitting nothing but dead ends, and had half a mind to hand the case over to her superiors like Kingsley and everyone else in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement had suggested.

You're not ready for this, they'd said. You should really give Silverman or Zefron (A/N: WHAT HAPPENED TO THE POSTER OF HEADMASTER ZEFRON?!) or Curtis the case.

Give me a chance, she'd told them in return. I can do this.

Drew was starting to think that maybe they had been right. But she wouldn't give up on the case. She had been told that she was one of the most promising Aurors the Ministry had ever seen –she wanted to prove it.

A knock sounded at the door, and the secretary, Jane, poked her head in.

"Mr. Malfoy is here to see you."

Drew's eyebrows furrowed together. "Draco?"

Jane tilted her head back out the door, before tilting her head back in. "The elder Malfoy. You asked me to set up a meeting, remember?"

"Right!" Drew stood, smoothing out her Auror's robes. "Send him in."

A second later, Lucius Malfoy strutted into her office, looking every bit as intimidating and haughty as the last time she'd seen him…and that had been his trial. His public trial. In front of the Wizengamot. His cane with the snake head dangled between his fingers, and a dangerous smirk was spread across his face.

"Miss Potter," he drawled. "Lovely to see you again."

"You as well, Mr. Malfoy." Drew gestured to the seat across from her desk. "Thank you for seeing me on such short notice, please have a seat."

He nodded and folded himself elegantly into the wooden chair. "How may I be of assistance?"

Drew regarded Lucius Malfoy for a moment with her fingers steepled together and her lips resting on her pointer fingers. "Let me be very clear on what I want from you today, Mr. Malfoy. May I speak freely?"

"Of course."

"I'm working on a case –"

"I hadn't noticed."

" –that involves your…former associates."

Malfoy raised his eyebrows, but otherwise gave no reaction to her description of Drew's case. "Go on," he replied slowly.

Drew rested her forearms against the top of her desk and pressed the knuckles of her fingers together. "This is a case that involves Death Eaters –some old and some new. Now, I won't pretend that we have any sort of friendship –nine times out of the last ten that we've met, insults have been traded. But this case is important, and you're no longer invincible in the minds of the Death Eaters. You're technically an enemy, and you aren't necessarily a friend to the wizarding world yet either."

"If you've brought me here to lay out my 'situation' in all its glory, Miss Potter, I can assure you that I have far better things to do." Mr. Malfoy stood to leave.

"You have a chance to do some good in the world, Malfoy," Drew said to his back. "Gain back some of your reputation. I can help you there." Her mind registered the words that Draco had used years ago to try to persuade her to join up with him. It was almost ironic now, that she and Lucius had an even larger dislike for each other than she and Draco had had at the time, but her use of the words gave the elder Malfoy reason to pause.

He didn't speak, though, so she continued. "You're a smart man, Mr. Malfoy, but you're also concerned with your reputation, and I also know you to love your son. This chance, what I'm offering you now, is an opportunity to help both."

Malfoy turned back to her, cold blue eyes boring into bright blue ones.

"Draco doesn't need to have his name dragged through the mud more so than it already has been. Please. We can help each other."

"What is it that you want from me?" he asked quietly.

"Information," she replied. "Anything on Death Eaters that you haven't already given to the Wizengamot –and I know there is some."

"And in return?"

"Your reputation. Restored, at least partially, to its former glory –once you help me bring these guys down."

He stepped forward. "And how is it that you plan on restoring my name?"

Drew grinned internally. She almost had him hooked. "Naturally, when this case is solved, you will receive much of the credit for handing the Death Eaters over to me. You'll be the hero, and I'll just be the middleman. Everybody wins. You're reputation is saved, I get taken seriously. Do we have a deal?" She held out a hand.

Mr. Malfoy stared her down for a moment. "Deal." He shook her hand politely, if rather reluctantly.

"One more thing before we begin," Drew added as he sat back down.

"Yes?"

"Despite my Gryffindor tendencies, I am also known for being a logical and fair-minded person. I try not to judge off first impressions, and I'm usually somewhat unbiased when it comes to other Hogwarts houses." Drew leaned forward in her chair. "But let it be known that I am not one to give second chances very often –you are one of the lucky few. IF you should choose to cross me, Mr. Malfoy, you should also know that I make a very unpleasant enemy. People hold me in high regards for a reason. I am taking a huge risk with you, and your livelihood is not the only one on the line here. Despite our past, I am choosing to trust you –break that trust and I will come down on you with the wrath of the gods. And there will be no pureblooded ideals, Dark Magic, wards, rocks, graves or places that can hide or protect you from me. I will hunt you down and tear you to shreds. And trust me when I say that I will make Lord Voldemort look like a simpering, whining, crying bitch. Understood?"

Malfoy smirked. "You threaten me?"

"Absolutely. I am the Chosen One, the Saviour. If I can't threaten you, then who can?"

He remained stoic, but Drew swore she could have seen his Adam's apple bob up and down once. "Shall we begin, then?"

An hour later, Drew was showing Malfoy out of her tiny office with a very happy look on her face. She hadn't really been paying huge amounts of attention to the words coming out of his mouth as she'd been writing them down, but he'd assured her that he would be available for more questioning if need be.

She hurried back to her desk, and began shifting through her notes, separating the seemingly useful from the actually useful until her notes had been boiled down to two basic points:

Rodolphus and Rabastan Lestrange fathered by Alexander Lestrange –also fathered a pureblooded Squib by am American witch in a one-night stand named Phillip Weston.

Phillip Weston – Owns a seedy club that borders the Muggle world and the Magical world. Lives underneath the radar of the American MoM.

Drew pulled the letter from her parents out of her pocket and read through it until she found what she was looking for.

… Your mother's name is Stephanie Plum, an American Muggle…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.

Thank God for having the foresight to put a laptop into her office, and having taken the time to make sure that she could actually access the Internet. She really didn't know why she was researching this –it wasn't as if the two could be connected…could they?

But of course Phillip Weston had no useful results when she searched his name. With a sigh, Drew stood and made a Floo Call.

Narcissa Malfoy had to admit that she was highly surprised when Tibby came to her and told her that 'Mizz Potters' was making a Floo Call. But, being a noble woman who was highly learned in the arts of pureblooded etiquette, she stood from her chair in the tea room and Apparated herself into the library.

Now, Narcissa was a polite, albeit somewhat cold, witch, but she would never, ever, announce to anyone that she wasn't pleased to see them. It wasn't that she wasn't pleased to see Isobel Potter, but she was highly uncomfortable around the saviour of the wizarding world.

"Ms. Potter, what a lovely surprise," she greeted as she approached the fireplace.

Isobel offered her a small smile that did nothing to calm Narcissa's nerves. "Thank you, Lady Malfoy, it is a pleasure to see you again. I trust you are well?"

"I am, thank you. To what do I owe this…surprise visit?"

Isobel inhaled a deep breath. "I'm actually looking for your husband. He graciously assisted me with a case I am currently investigating, and I had some follow up questions that I needed to ask him. Might he be available?"

"I am afraid not; I haven't seen him for most of the day. However, if it would help your case, I would be happy to answer any questions that you might have."

Narcissa really had no idea why she was inviting the young Ms. Potter into her private life –it wasn't as if she really wanted to spend time around the girl.

However, she did owe the Potter girl her livelihood. Perhaps this would be her way of settling the score.

Eyebrows shooting in the air, Isobel appeared to choke on…well, nothing actually. "I –I don't know if that's a good idea, Lady Malfoy, I – I –mean no disrespect, I just don't want to intrude upon your privacy."

"Nonsense." Narcissa waved a dismissive hand. "Are you busy right now? I could use the company, and I can give more answers to certain things than my husband can. Come through when you are ready."

She had barely made her way halfway across the room before the fire roared and Isobel Potter was stepping gracefully out of the fireplace, Scourgifying herself before she stepped onto the carpet.

Narcissa eyed the younger witch for a moment. She was a pretty girl, very tall, with dark brown curls that stopped just above her chin. Wide brown eyes, nearly black, surrounded by a swarm of long lashes, with a wide face, plump lips, smooth, tanned skin that gave her the look of being more Spanish than British (and, of course, gave away the fact that she was not the biological daughter of Lily and James Potter.) and…of course, that lightning bolt scar that rested just above a sculpted eyebrow. And the long, white scar along her cheek that Narcissa knew was courtesy of Fenrir Greyback.

All in all, Isobel "Drew" Potter had the makings to be a highly attractive witch. Even with the Auror robes and the scars, which really only served to give a highly intimidating aura about her.

"Lady Malfoy," Isobel said a little awkwardly. "Thank you…for allowing me into your home. And thank you for offering to help me with my case. I only really have one question, it is in regards to –"

"Let us adjourn to the drawing room before we discuss our business."

Drew wasn't really sure what to expect from Narcissa Malfoy, but the drawing room? Of all places?

"Are you sure that is a good idea?"

Narcissa nodded, and for the first time, Drew saw a sliver of remorse shoot across the normally stoic witch's face. "We've permanently blocked off that room," she replied. "We don't go in there anymore. This room is on the other end of the house."

Drew liked this drawing room a hell of a lot better than she liked the last one. This drawing room was brighter, the spacious area decorated tastefully (of course, these were the Malfoys, after all.) in cream and Slytherin green (of course, these were the Malfoys, after all.) with leather furniture and paintings of several prominent historical figures hung on the walls. The figures eyed Drew, some with curiosity, some with disdain, and, surprisingly, some with blatant admiration.

"Please." Narcissa gestured to one of two plush chairs separated by a shiny coffee table, that was, knowing Draco's family, made of the finest wood money could buy. "Sit."

Drew sat down at Narcissa's command, and immediately didn't ever want to leave. It was an utterly fabulous chair, and Drew was sure that her sigh of comfort was heard by the lady of the house, if the small smirk that spread across her face was any indication, but Narcissa was far too composed to say anything about it.

"Would you care for some tea?" Narcissa asked as she sat down.

"No, thank you," Drew replied, injecting as much grace as she possibly could into her answer. "But might I trouble you for a glass of water? I've had a long day without much of a break."

Narcissa smiled. "Tibby?" she called out.

A house-elf dressed in a yellow frock appeared with a crack. "What's can I's be getting for yous, Mistress?"

"A cup of tea for myself, and a glass of water for Miss Potter. Ice, Miss Potter?"

"Please." Drew nodded to the house-elf. "And thank you." She found Hermione's SPEW to be ridiculous (there were certain things that purebloods weren't willing to change about their lifestyles, and this was apparently one of them.), but she was well-practiced in the art of manners and basic diplomacy.

Tibby nodded, and Drew could have sworn that the little elf blushed before disappearing again.

The elf was back in a second, though, and handed Drew and Narcissa their respective drinks. Narcissa thanked the elf, and she Disapparated again.

"Now." Narcissa settled back into her chair. "What questions do you have?"

Don't screw this up, Potter. "I'm currently involved in a case that has to do with a recent movement of Death Eaters –" Narcissa cringed. " –from Britain into the United States. Your husband wasn't able to give me much on the actual movement, but he was able to give me some…interesting facts."

Narcissa raised an eyebrow. "Such as?" she drawled, in much the same manner as her husband tended to.

"The Lestrange brothers –your sister's husband, Rodolphus and his twin, Rabastan… they were fathered by AlexanderLestrange and his wife, Eleanora, yes?"

Narcissa nodded.

"But," said Drew, suddenly uncomfortable with the situation, "Mr. Malfoy informed me that Alexander fathered another child. With an American pureblooded witch."

"Yes, that is true."

"Can you possibly tell me anymore about that?"

"Alexander Lestrange," Narcissa sighed, "Was…not a faithful man. I met him a handful of times, and though he seemed to be a good father to both Rodolphus and Rabastan, he made several inappropriate comments in the time that I and my sisters spent in his company. I, like Andromeda, held little respect for him, but Bellatrix… Bellatrix was infatuated with the Lestrange family, Alexander in particular.

"She seduced Alexander," Narcissa continued, standing to stare out the window with her hands clasped behind her back. "She seduced him at the age of fifteen while Eleanora was seven months pregnant with their third child. Eleanora loved Alexander desperately, but the child was stillborn, and their marriage became…strained."

"She never left him?" Drew asked, already knowing the answer.

"Of course not. It is understandable, leaving a marriage in your Muggle society for something such as infidelity, but in a pureblooded, pre-arranged marriage, the highest, most heinous crime one can commit is to leave the marriage. No, they simply stopped interacting with one another unless it was required of them. Alexander, he traveled to America one year for business."

"He met a witch," Drew concluded.

"Isn't that how it always goes?" Narcissa threw a smirk over her shoulder. "But, yes, he did, and it was short-lived, but by all accounts, it was highly passionate. She was…free-spirited, and very educated in the ways of the Muggle world. However, she became pregnant, he left her and came back to Eleanora and his sham of a marriage, and the witch gave birth to a Squib."

"Phillip Weston."

"Despite being born a Squib and a bastard child, he was raised by his mother until she died when he was a teenager."

"Mr. Malfoy said that he runs a nightclub now."

"Bellatrix and Rodolphus spent several weeks in America once," Narcissa replied, turning away from the window. "When she returned, she spoke disdainfully of a club called 'the Crimson Fountain' and its location on the brink of some Muggle city in a place…oh, what did she call it…"

Drew didn't know why she offered the place that she did, but with a sickened voice, she weakly offered, "New Jersey?"

"That's it! And it was in some city…it started with a 'T', I believe?" Narcissa exclaimed. "How did you know?"

"I have no idea," Drew replied as she stood. "Mrs. Malfoy, I cannot thank you enough for your assistance today, it has been a tremendous help, but I really must be going –"

The door suddenly swung open, and Draco Malfoy, followed by Blaise Zabini and a whole slew of Slytherin's Drew recognized from her Hogwarts days, sauntered in, looking extremely grubby and like they had just played a massive game of Quidditch in the rain.

Well, she could see that they had been playing Quidditch. Each of them carried a broomstick, and a few of them were holding beater's bats and Quaffles.

Draco stopped midway into the room. "Potter?" he cried in disbelief.

Drew nodded. "In the flesh, Malfoy, it's nice to see you. You're looking…well. And dirty."

There was a collective smirk amongst the boys, and Narcissa eyed them with displeasure. "You all are disgustingly filthy! What happened?"

"Quidditch game, Mother," Draco replied, still distracted by his sworn enemy standing in the middle of the room. "Not a big deal."

Narcissa uttered something along the lines of, "Not when you're on my new carpet," before turning to Drew and saying, "It was lovely to see you again, Miss Potter," and Disapparating on the spot.

Drew stared at the spot where the woman had been for a moment, before a voice like silk spoke.

"Draco, I don't believe you've introduced us. Who is this fine creature?"

And instantly, Drew knew who was speaking. Pivoting around, she replied coolly, "Zabini, you sure as hell know who I am, and we have definitely been introduced."

Blaise Zabini stepped forward and gave her a sweeping bow. Drew failed to bite back a snort at the sight. One of the most handsome wizards in the wizarding communities, covered head to toe in mud, and he was giving her a bow?

"Really, Zabini? Stand up straight, you look like an idiot. Anyways, I've got to go; loads of paperwork to finish and very little time to actually do it in. Malfoy, Zabini, nice to see you. Nott, Flint, Pucey –I'll see you…whenever."

With that, she Apparated away without giving any of the Slytherins a chance to respond.

When Marcus turned his head to smirk at Adrian regarding the Potter's sudden departure, his smirk quickly disappeared when he noticed Pucey looking like he was about to throw up.

"Whoa, Adrain, mate –you alright? You look like you're going to be sick –all over Mrs. Malfoy's lovely carpets, may I add."

"She's the one," Adrian muttered under his breath.

"What in the bloody hell does that mean?"

By now, all of the Slytherins had turned to watch the exchange with interest.

Adrian stared at Marcus with a meaningful look on his face until Marcus got it.

"Oh."