Disclaimer: Don't own JE or HP.

"Hello?"

"Hello, this is Auror Drew Potter with the British Department of Magical Law Enforcement. I'm calling for someone named…Diesel?"

"This is Diesel. How can I help you?"

"Mr. Diesel –"

"Diesel, just Diesel, please."

"Diesel, are you aware of the wizarding war that took place just over a year ago in Britain and parts of Europe?"

"Partially. I know the players, I know what happened, and I most definitely know you. I can't say much for specific details, though."

"So then you know about the Death Eaters?"

"Yes."

"There were two Death Eaters…brothers, the Lestrange brothers, and their father had an affair with an American witch. He currently resides somewhere in New Jersey, and I need to find him."

"Then you're in luck. I'm good at finding people, especially in New Jersey. What's the name?"

"Phillip Weston. He's a club owner. If you can't get an address, that's okay, I just need the city –"

"Oh, darlin', I've heard of him. He owns the Crimson Fountain in Trenton."

"Trenton?"

If there was one thing that Drew hated more than hunting Horcruxes all over the countryside, it was the heat. So, when she Apparated into the back alleyway of the chain hotel that she had reserved a room in, she was pleased beyond belief to find that it was pouring rain.

She made her way around to the lobby and stomped her feet on the mat before making her way into the well-lit lobby.

The receptionist, a blonde, liposuctioned, Botoxed woman with red lipstick and a nametag that read 'Cherri.' "Can I help you?" she asked, looking up with a wide smile, even as her fake fingernails continued to clack away on the keyboard.

"Hi, I have a reservation." Drew dropped her bag on the floor and leaned against the cold countertop.

"M'mkay." Cherri typed away for another moment before smacking her gum and saying, "Name?"

"Andrews. Lily Andrews."

"Thanks for doing this for me," Drew said as she walked into the Crimson Fountain, arm in arm with Diesel. Crimson Fountain was…not a nice place. It was a in a building behind a closed Laundromat that was missing several windows and many of its washers and dryers, and was covered roof to ground in spray paint.

The only things comforting Drew at that moment were the wand (stashed in between her boobs…she was so proud of herself for thinking of that), the knife hooked to her thigh, the Auror badge she had in her tiny wallet (which was fitted with an Undetectable Extension Charm…of course) and the gun she'd also put into the wallet, that was loaded with silver bullets, and guaranteed to kill almost anything.

Well, except for vampires, but there was a lot of wood randomly lying around. You can stake a vampire with a table leg. Not a whole lot of silver at the ready.

"No problem," Diesel, who was incognito as a much older man with graying hair and a bit of a gut, replied. "But next time you should really warn a guy before he Apparates in that he's liable to get beat up." He glanced at the spot on his knee where she'd landed a nasty kick with one of her four inch high chrome-studded gladiator heels.

"Sorry about that. Next time call before you show up, or even Apparate outside the hotel and knock on my door. Us Aurors aren't known for our failing reflexes. Merlin's balls, it's disgusting in here."

The Crimson Fountain wasn't any nicer on the inside than it was on the outside. It was close to being empty, filled with smoke, and had traces of magic everywhere. The scent of drugs, sweat, smoke and Febreeze was suffocating, and by the number of Muggles that were interacting with wizards, Drew suspected that they used a memory-altering charm on the Muggle club goers before they left, but it wasn't something she was willing to look into at the moment. The bar was probably the least populated area of the club, and most of the occupants were on the floor, committing some of the most heinous acts of sex that Drew had ever seen committed with clothes on. And she was an Auror. Aurors saw shit like that all the time, and even she, the saviour of the wizarding world, had half a mind to turn around and walk out.

"Oh, no, you don't." Diesel let out a half-laugh as she hesitated. He grabbed her arm, saying, "Just remember the plan, okay? He's right over there."

"You remember the plan," she hissed back as they managed to snag two empty barstools a few seats down from a tall, thin man with blond hair and a Snape-like nose. Drew knew from a picture Diesel had been able to show her that this was Phillip Weston, and by the way the man was leering conspicuously at her from the moment she'd set foot in the bar, she had him hooked.

But then he noticed that she was with another man and frowned before finding another woman to attract.

The bartender, who had previously been flirting with a couple of whorish looking Muggle women with big boobs and even bigger hair, held up a finger for them to wait a moment before attending to Drew and Diesel. "What can I get you guys?"

"Simison Steaming Stout please, if you've got it," Drew requested. The bartender stared at her for a few moments as if he knew her from somewhere (he might have, but he probably didn't recognize her with her scars under a glamour) before turning expectantly to Diesel.

"Blishen's, neat," Diesel said, taking on a slightly disgusted and haughty tone as he did so.

The bartender paused. "Odgen's okay?"

Diesel sighed as if being served Odgen's Old Firewhiskey instead of Blishen's Firewhiskey was the worst thing that could ever happen to him. "Fine."

"Must you be so rude?" Drew hissed loudly as the bartender sat their drinks down in front of them. "We're here to celebrate, darling, not sulk."

"I just don't understand why I can't get the damn drink I want," replied Diesel.

"Because, darling, we can't always have our way. Come on, lighten up –your divorce was just finalized, wasn't it? And now we can be together like you said we would!"

By now, Phillip Weston had looked over from where he was flirting with a redheaded witch, and was paying close attention to their conversation.

Diesel pulled out his wallet and began to pull bills from it. "Come on, I want to go."

"Well, I want to stay," she replied, folding her arms across her chest. "You can go if you want."

"Lily, we talked about this, remember?" Diesel said pedantically. "You have to stop acting like a child if you want us to be together."

"Well maybe I don't want us to be together," Drew replied, her voice rising. "All you ever do is sleep! And tell me that I have to act my age and be smarter and do as I'm told –well, you know what? I'm tired of it! I don't want you anymore!"

Drew was surprised at how little attention their argument had attracted, but she wasn't at all surprised when Weston stood, walked over to them and asked, "Is there a problem here?"

"No problem," said Diesel at the same time as Drew replied, "Yeah, and it's him."

"Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to leave," Weston requested instantly. "You seem to be bothering this young lady."

"Who are you to ask me to leave?" sniffed Diesel.

"The owner," Weston replied, puffing out his chest. "Now, you can either leave quietly, or I will call security on you and make you feel really stupid when they drag your ass out of here with everyone watching. Your choice."

Diesel looked like he was about to protest, actually opening and closing his mouth a few times, but decided against it. He sent Drew a "look" before turning on his heel and walking to the exit of the club.

Drew sat stunned for a moment, and when Weston turned to her and asked, "Are you alright, my dear?" she burst into what she liked to call the 'hysterical post-breakup girl'. She began to take heaving breaths, and let out a sob.

"I –I though we would be to-togeth-er for-forever!" she wailed, burying her head in Weston's tailored shirt. "H-he told me we would b-b-be together fo-forever!"

She knew without looking that she would be drawing attention to herself, and Weston wouldn't want that.

"Let's go to my office," he said quietly.

"It's not much," Weston noted as he showed Drew into the office. "But it's private. We can talk in here."

His hand was low on Drew's back, and it felt disgusting and wrong and gross and Drew wanted with everything she was to pull away. But she let him keep it in the disgusting perverted position it was in, and she let him show him into the office.

The walls in the office were obviously thin; Drew's fingers tapped lazily at her side to the beat of some guy rapping about not saving a girl who didn't have any "money in the bank", and the bass thudded lowly in her ears.

"What's you preference?"

"Haven't got one," Drew replied, fishing the knife from her thigh while Weston wasn't looking.

She moved to stand beside him, and when he looked up, she drew back her fist and punched him hard enough to break his nose. The drinks he'd been preparing fell to the floor, and Weston let out a howl of pain as he stumbled backwards to lean against his false-wood desk.
"You 'tupid bithhh! You boke by dose!"

"I can do a lot worse than that," Drew replied coldly as she took him by the collar of his shirt and pressed the knife to his throat. "But I don't have to. I really don't want to, but I will if I have to."

"Who da thuck are you?"

"My name?" Drew let out a cold laugh. "My name is Isobel. But most people call me Drew."

His eyes widened as he realized who she was.

"I have a few questions for you, Phillip, and I want you to answer them all. I don't want to have to hurt you," she said in a sickly sweet tone.

"I'll ander anyting you want," he sputtered, voice muffled through the blood dripping out of his nose.

"Good," Drew replied. "Let's get started, then, shall we?"

Drew really couldn't believe she had been so stupid. How could she have just waltzed into a club that Death Eaters were known to frequent, give the owner, a known brother of two notorious Death Eaters, and expect to walk out and not have any trouble.

Bloody, bloody, bloody, bloody, buggering, fucking hell!

And on top of that, she'd told Diesel to go home, which, in hindsight, had been a really bad idea. He'd told her that, too.

And, on top of that, it had started to rain. Again.

And then Drew became aware of somebody watching her, and she whipped around, pointing the knife at the man's throat. He was a really big guy, obviously a Muggle, with a shaved head, decorated by a huge flaming skull tattoo. He could have easily taken her and her knife, judging by the size of his arms and the fact that he had an assault rifle attached to his body, but he didn't retaliate when she put her knife to his throat, only held his hands up in defense.

"Woah, whoa. I'm not going to hurt you."

"A lot of people tend to say that to me, and they're usually lying. What do you want?"

"I just want to help you," he replied.

Drew's eyes narrowed. "Who are you?"

"My name is Cal. I work with a security company, I'm a Navy SEAL –"

"That explains the gun," Drew replied, dropping the knife down to her side. "What do you want, I'm in a bit of a hurry. There are these people that want to get to me, you see, and I'm trying to make sure that doesn't happen. It's been nice meeting you Cal, but I really can't stick around, and I can't put you in the middle of this –"

"At least let me drive you somewhere."

Drew could feel her resolves breaking down, and she hastily used the back of her hand to wipe water off of her face. "Where?"

"Anywhere you need to go. Come on, it's raining, and I can help you."

"What's your name?"

Drew stared out the window. "Lily. Lily Andrews," she replied quietly.

"You're lying." It wasn't a question, and Drew didn't reply.

Cal tried again. "Why are you in trouble?"

"Can't tell you."

"Can't, or won't?"

Drew rolled her head against the seat to look at him. "Can't, as in, can't. As in, it's classified. Do you military guys always ask so many questions?"

"Yeah, but you're changing the subject."

It had been over two weeks since Drew had left for America, and Hermione was starting to worry. She never went this long on a trip without calling at least twice, and even if she couldn't call, she always sent a Patronus or a letter, even if only to appease Teddy.

Hermione sighed and picked up her cell phone. It was frowned upon to call Drew while she was away, but Hermione had a really bad feeling that something was about to happen.

Drew picked up on the third ring with a scratchy, whispery sounding voice. "Hello?"

"Is that all I get? Hello? Where have you been that you couldn't at least call to tell us that you're okay? What's going on?"

"I'm sorry Hermione, I really am, but I just got this break in my case, and I think you'll want to hear this. It's a brilliant plan, really, and it answers a lot of questions."

Hermione perked up. "Tell me now," she commanded.

"I think they're trying to bring Voldemort back."

"O-kay," Hermione replied, confused. "Why would they go to America to do it?"

"They're Death Eaters, Hermione, and they know we're watching them. Better to go somewhere no one knows you to conduct business if you've already got a record. And, get this, they're using Muggles."

"How does using Muggles help their cause?"

"I think they're looking to cover all of their bases. The Muggles that the Death Eaters are using are special cases of Muggles –the kind that are completely and wholly unaffected by magic, like the 'pristinely ungifted' people in that one series that you seem to love so much."

"But I still don't understand how that helps them."

"How did we defeat Voldemort the last time?"

"Mostly logic and a faulty wand."

"But we fought with magic. What if I told you that the Muggles they're using came from militaries from all over the world?"

Hermione finally understood. "Are you saying that they've recruited Muggle military men to make sure that we can't fight them?"

"That's exactly what I'm –" A loud crash cut Drew off, followed by shouts and a lot of violent noises.

"Drew? DREW!"

The line went dead.

There was a huge commotion going on when Ron and Drew's supervisor Moira Curtis showed up at the hotel they'd known she was staying at. It was surrounded by cops, bystanders, ambulances, fire trucks, firemen, EMT's and a ton of big men dressed in all black. The ground was littered with broken glass, and there was a gurney next to one of the ambulances that held what Moira suspected to be a body underneath a sheet.

A plainclothed cop stepped in front of Moira, saying, "Ma'am, you're not allowed –"

She put up a hand, pulled out the badge the Ministry had acquired for instances such as these, and replied, "Moira Curtis, British intelligence. One of mine was staying here, and I've got reason to believe she's been kidnapped. Now move before I take your job and put it in my trophy case."

He raised his eyebrows in alarm before recovering and giving her a dazzling smile. Ron, who was very aware of the fact that his job when accompanying her to crime scenes and the like was to mostly stand behind her and look tough, barely managed to hide a snort by a cough. "Now, why would a gorgeous woman like you want to –"

"Save the antics, Officer Casanova." Moira folded her arms across her chest and cocked a hip haughtily. "Tell me what happened."

He sighed. "Got a call about an hour ago from one of the hotel clients saying they'd heard gunshots and screaming coming from the floor below. Says she heard a bang, followed by some shouting, gunshots, and the breaking of glass, and then everything went quiet again. Obvious signs of a struggle, and a lot of blood, plus a dead assailant and a dead hotel clerk."

Managed to kill an assailant before they got her? Definitely sounds like Potter. "Who was it that they grabbed?" Moira asked, raising her eyebrows.

Just then, a man with a head tattoo (the hottest guy she'd ever seen in her entire life), wearing in black cargoes and a black t-shirt, walked by. "Excuse me, but would you happen to know Lily Andrews? She's the one that they took."

Ron inhaled sharply, and Moira wanted to laugh at Drew's choice of a fake name. The cop looked like he wanted to hit the guy in black, but Moira spoke before Officer Casanova could react. "I do, but who are you?"

"Ma'am, my name is Cal Parker, and I work for Rangeman. We provide security for this hotel. I met Ms. Andrews a few days ago –"

Moira was already pulling a card out of the breast pocket of her blazer, and handed it to Officer Casanova without looking at him. "Moira Curtis, British intelligence. Obviously, your security is lacking in efficiency, Mr. Parker. Call me if you find anything useful, Casanova."

She walked away with Parker, leaving Officer Casanova frowning, and Ron smirking as he followed behind her.

"My boss, Ranger Manoso, will want to talk to you."

Parker led her over to a sleek, black Porsche, where two large men and a smaller woman were in the middle of a conversation. Parker stood a respectful distance away, waiting until the shorter of the two, a Latino man who was shorter, but by no means small, looked over and grunted, "Cal. Ma'am."

Before Cal could introduce her, Moira pushed a piece of long black hair behind her ear and stuck out a hand. "Mr. Manoso, my name is Moira Curtis and this is Agent Weasley. We're with British intelligence, and it was my agent, Lily Andrews, who was taken. I have some things I'd like to discuss with you regarding this incident."

Manoso took her hand and shook it briefly. "Ranger Manoso, I run Rangeman Securities, and this is my second-in-command, Tank."

Moira raised her eyebrows at the large African-American man who stood next to Ranger. "Your mother named you 'Tank'?"

He smirked, but shook her hand and nodded to Ron, who looked a little uncomfortable in the company of so many men who were way larger than he was.

The woman, who had previously been standing quietly behind Ranger, pushed around him, saying, "That's what I said! Stephanie Plum, nice to meet you."

"Merlin's balls!" Moira heard Ron hiss, at the same time Ranger said in a slightly exasperated tone, "Babe." Moira shot Ron a disapproving frown over her shoulder. He, in turn, walked over to whisper in her ear, "That's Drew's biological mother."

Moira's eyes widened, and she stood ramrod straight at the announcement, but quickly recovered. "Ms. Plum, an honest pleasure," she replied, shaking Stephanie's hand warmly with a smile.

Stephanie smiled in return and stepped back to stand next to Ranger.

"Ma'am, you might as well give up the act," Tank said, looking her up and down. "We've already figured out that 'Lily Andrews' is a fake name, and we don't like to play around."

Moira nodded. "Alright, but it's nothing I'm going to discuss in public. Too many people around, and I'm really not enjoying the way Officer Casanova over there is staring." She tilted her head in the cop's direction.

Stephanie's eyebrows furrowed. "You mean Joe Morelli?"

"Yeah, I don't like him. He gives me a case of the shivers…and I don't mean the good kind."

Moira thought she saw a flicker of a grin cross Ranger's features, but it was gone as quickly as it had come.

The conference room at Rangeman was filled with the buffest, biggest, sexiest guys Moira had ever seen. They all exuded ex-military, they all filled out their t-shirts like pros…And she held all of their attentions.

Moira inhaled sharply and tilted her head back. This wasn't going to be good. It was obvious to her that every single one of these men loved Stephanie Plum, and she really had no idea how to react to the fact that she had had a child at fifteen that no one knew about.

Moira met Stephanie's gaze, and she said slowly, "Before we begin, I have a question I need to address."

Stephanie narrowed her eyes in question. "Shoot."

"Ummm…" Moira turned to Ron for help. "I might need you for this one."

Luckily for her, Ron had no sense of tact unless he'd been specifically told how to act (and even, half the time he didn't listen) and took right over. "Does the name 'Isobel Andrew Stephanie Potter' mean anything to you?"

Stephanie began to choke on nothing as the attention in the room swiveled to her at the speed of light. "Where…did you…hear…that…name?" she gasped between coughs.

"Babe."

Stephanie stopped choking and looked over at Ranger. An indiscernible visual discussion seemed to take place between them in the time frame of a second before she looked back over at Ron and Moira with wide eyes.

Ron, with surprisingly steady hands, slid a folded piece of paper out of his pocket, unfolded it and began to read. "Your mother's name is Stephanie Plum, an American Muggle… 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."

"We call her 'Drew'," Ron finished, sliding the letter to Stephanie. "And she is my best friend."

The room was dead quiet as Stephanie picked up the letter and began to read, Ranger reading silently over her shoulder. He got about halfway through the letter before he stood and walked out of the room, anger radiating off him in waves.

Lester stood halfway out of his seat to follow him, but was stopped by Stephanie. "No, I'll go. We've got…things to discuss."

Stephanie found him in the gun range, doing some serious damage to a target.

She knew he knew she was there by the way his shoulders tensed when she walked in, but he didn't acknowledge her, he didn't say anything (nor did she), but she didn't expect him to.

She sat down in a chair and waited for him to be finished. When he ran out of bullets, Stephanie didn't even bother to say anything as he picked up another magazine, reloaded the gun and kept shooting.

Magazine after magazine, clip after clip later, when she finally sensed him to be done, and he slid the headphones off his head, she still sat and waited for him to speak.

And, of course, the first word that came out of his mouth was, "Babe."

But there were so many emotions conveyed in that single word.

You didn't tell me, you hurt me, I'm angry, I'm worried, I'm hurt, why didn't you tell me?

"I can't make excuses, Ranger."

"Don't make excuses, then. Why?" He turned to her, leaning against the counter, folding his arms against his chest.

"I –we were young, Ranger –"

"Doesn't make the –her any less real."

"I get that!" Stephanie stood and began to pace. "I get that!"

"So why, then?"

She rubbed a hand over her face. "I haven't told you, because I haven't told anyone else! Not even my parents know, Ranger! How the hell was I supposed to tell you?"

"Babe?"

Stephanie threw her hands in the air in full-on Italian mode. "I was alone when I came back from England, don't you get it?! And it sounds so easy to just stand there and make out like I didn't want a child –I did, I wanted it so bad I thought my heart was ripping out of my chest! But I was a kid, I was fifteen years old! And you had Julie, and you were always talking about how your life wasn't equipped for kids and I couldn't take that sort of rejection again!"

Ron was suffocating in uncomfortable silence. It had been quiet for the last ten minutes, and normally he was the one to break silences like this, but he would refrain.

It simply wasn't his place.

"So, Bomber's got a kid…" Bobby noted slowly.

"Yeah…"

And it was utterly fascinating, and really twisted, to see all of these ex-military men who seemed to have all of their shit together rendered speechless…by a single woman.

"I have a question," Woody spoke up. "Who's the father?"

The Weasley kid shrugged. "Letter said something about a tall Cuban guy who was headed to the military and called her 'babe' –"

"Holy fuck!" Lester stood and began to pace the room. "Jesus Christ!"
"Ranger has another kid?"

The room erupted into noise, with each Rangeman employee trying to talk over the other, and Lester pacing the room in a fit of surprised fury.

"Guys," Moira said, trying to get their attention.

The chatter and general mayhem continued.

"Gentlemen."

More noise.

"OI! Shut it!"

The noise stopped, and Moira sent a confused look in Ron's direction.

"How did that only work when you did it?"

He shrugged.

"Six siblings…had to be the bloody loudest to be heard at all."

"…good to know…" Moira turned back to the men, putting her game face on. "I know that you all are surprised…some more than others," she announced. "But that doesn't mean that we get to stop focusing yet. The goal remains the same; Drew is still missing, and we still have to find her."

"Exactly what I was going to say," Stephanie replied as she walked back into the room, followed closely by a silent Ranger. She nodded to the people in the room before turning to Moira.

"Where do you propose we start?"

Before Moira could reply to her eager question, her phone rang. She pulled it from the clip on her belt and frowned when she checked the caller ID.

Drew, she mouthed to the occupants of the room as she answered the call and put it on speakerphone.

"Drew? Drew, are you okay?"

Then, a voice that sent chills up Moira's back and caused her to almost drop the phone replied, and it was most definitely not Drew. "Hello Moira. Miss me?"

"Greyback. I'm surprised you've figured out how to work the phone."

"Oh, I won't pretend to have figured it out. It's amazing what you can get Muggles to do when the price is right. I just wanted to let you know that I've got your precious Potter," he spat. "And I've got plans for her. Big plans. And unless you want her to come back to you in pieces inside a box, I'd suggest you stop looking. You know of the things I can do, Miss Moira. You've seen the work I've already done to Potter, so don't believe for a moment that I won't finish the job."

Moira's eyes narrowed, and the entire room tensed. "I wouldn't believe that you would send her back unharmed either. How do I know you haven't already killed her?"

Greyback laughed. "You know that I have need of her yet, but I'll appease your innate need to mother your subordinates. Come say hi, Mudblood."

In the next moment, a collective breath was let out in the room as a shaky yet defiant voice came on, "Moira?"

"Drew? Are you okay?"

"A little worse for wear, but nothing I can't handle. Been giving 'em hell too, but that made them upset so they've been using me as a punching bag for the past little while."

Anger flashed in the eyes of every single person in that room.

Moira drew in a breath. "Listen to me, Drew. I need you to stay strong, I'm gonna get you out of this, I swear –"

A scream came over the phone that sounded eerily like Drew, and had half the room's occupants on their feet even though there was nothing that could be done.

"We're done here," Greyback growled. "End the call."

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