A/N: I just realized how much time Moira tends to spend on the phone. At least she isn't talking while driving. That's dangerous.

Disclaimer: Don't own HP or JE, only my own original OC's.

The line went dead. Moira was so tempted to throw the phone across the room in a fit of anger, but she knew that she had to stay calm for everyone else that couldn't. Stephanie was shaking in her chair, Ranger and several others had snapped their pens in half, sending ink splattering down the table and Ron looked like he was about to get sick.

And that was when troubleshooting Moira snapped to attention. She looked to Ron. "We know that they've got Greyback with them, I want you to get any sort of weapons made of silver that you can get your hands on. While you're at it, go see whatever you can scrounge up from Drew's hotel room, and while you're at that, get me Diesel –"

"You know Diesel?"

Moira turned to face Stephanie. "Unfortunately, darling, I more than know Diesel. He's my cousin. Christmas holidays were a nightmare with that one around. We –" she gestured to herself and Ron. "We are…like him. We don't work for British intelligence –"

"I could have told you that," Tank snorted.

"We're law enforcement for the magical world –"

"Like a cop?"

"Much better than that, but that's not the point. Weasley, I need you to get me Diesel, tell him to find Potter, whatever it takes, whatever the cost, I don't care. She's one of the most promising Aurors I've ever seen in my life, and I won't accept anything but a good outcome, do you understand?"

Ron nodded and left to send the Patronuses to the right people.

Moira turned back to the Muggles.

"Why silver weapons?" Ranger asked.

"It's the easiest way to kill a werewolf."

"But, aren't you guys, like...magic?" Lester added. "Couldn't you just do some witchy mumbo-jumbo and just kill the thing?"

Moira rolled her eyes at the use of language but answered him anyways. "Killing spells are far easier, but they take up a lot more paperwork and they only work about half the time. I don't want to march into something where magic ends up being unreliable. I like to cover my bases."

"Why Diesel?" Ranger had a slight look of distaste on his face when he said the name.

"You don't like him either, eh? Well, Diesel, while being a completely moronic dunderhead, has a fantastic knack for finding things that get lost. He's useful for something, at least."

"What do you want us doing?" Tank asked, leaning forward in his chair, causing the chair to creak mildly under his massive form.

"Before we get into anything in much further depth, we should get a few things straight about Drew."

"I wasn't done talking," Drew said coldly, as the Muggle man hung up the phone for Greyback. She tried to make her glare as venomous as possible, which wasn't hard, but was definitely hindered by the black eye she was sure she had coming on.

He smirked and leaned close enough to her that she could smell the stench of his breath, and she struggled not to recoil in fear at the menace in his eyes. "You were by my accounts, Mudblood. Take her back to her room."

If she could have, she would have hexed the smirk off of Greyback's face. But, her wand was gone, and she really didn't want to think about someone reaching down the front of her top to get to it.

The Muggle man, a bulky man of medium height with shoulder length, matted brown hair, grabbed Drew by her elbow, yanked her to her feet, and marched her out of the tiny office.

From what she'd been able to tell, she was being kept in an empty storage closet of an unused warehouse. Drew was reminded enormously of her time spent in the cupboard under the stairs at the Dursley's.

At least she had things to do at the Dursleys. Here, there was nothing to do except pick at threads in the nasty mattress they'd put in there and count the seconds until something actually happened.

From her time spent in the warehouse, Drew had quickly figured out that Greyback and the Lestranges and whoever else was here had somehow figured out how to block magic.

She had discovered that within the first thirty seconds of being captured.

Of course she would lose her wand. Drew scolded herself internally as she knelt down in front of the door. Her wandless abilities weren't as expansive as Hermione's, but she had at least been able to master a few spells.

She put her hand to the knob and began to focus her magic, but she found that it wouldn't come to her. She frowned and tried again.

"Alohamora."

Nothing happened.

"Alohamora."

Still nothing.

She balled her hand into a fist and began to stare at it intently, as if her stare alone could make her magic flow into her palm and open the door.

The door opened, but not in the way Drew expected. It flew open, thwacking her over the head and sending her sprawling onto the ground.

Rodolphus and Rabastan Lestrange stood there, each with a surprised look on their face as they saw her on her back on the ground.

Then they realized what she'd been trying to do, and they began to laugh.

"That won't work here, Mudblood," Rabastan growled.

The guard walked her roughly down the empty, cold hallway. His gun pressed threateningly into the middle of Drew's back, the cold barrel sending goosebumps up her spine. She tripped, once, when his incessant shoving caused her to lose her balance, and he let her fall to the ground.

And that was when she saw it.

Hooked onto his belt was a knife, glinting under the flickering lights. It was a long shot, but she had to take it.

"Get up," he grunted, grabbing her by the elbow and pulling her to her feet.

He led her back to the storage closet, and made her stand against the wall next to the door while he unlocked it.

"Move," he commanded, gesturing to the closet when he'd gotten the door open.

And when she had walked inside, and he had closed the door, she let out a huge sigh of relief before bending down and sliding the sheathed knife out from the side of her underwear, and out from the bottom of her dress.

Now to form a plan.

Hermione jumped out of her chair when the door slammed open Adrian Pucey stormed into her office with a deadly look on her face. Dana, the tiny, pixie-like brunette secretary, was behind him, saying frantically, "I'm so sorry, Ms. Granger, he just came right in –"

Pucey shot her a look that could kill, causing Dana to shut her mouth in fear, before turning to Hermione. "She's in danger. Where is she?" he asked in a deadly tone.

"Who?"

"Isobel!" he cried, suddenly frantic now. "I can't sense her anymore! WHERE IS SHE?"

"Dana, you can go, I've got this." Hermione waved Dana out the door. "I don't know where she –"

"LIAR!" Pucey slammed his down on her desk, causing papers to scatter and a pencil holder to roll off the desk, sending writing utensils skittering over the floor. His eyes turned from brown to red, and he took on an aura of danger. "I CAN TELL YOU'RE LYING! STOP LYING TO ME!"

Hermione had her wand out in a second, twisting it in her hand. "Please calm down, Pucey, we can talk about this. I want to find Drew, too, but I can't do that while you're in this…state. Please, sit down."

That seemed to do the trick, as Pucey's eyes turned brown again, but instead of sitting, he began to pace the length of her office.

"How did you know that Drew was missing?"

Pucey's answer was to send her a meaningful look that meant nothing to Hermione.

Hermione waved her wand and reset everything on her desk that Pucey had knocked askew with a sigh. She set the wand down on her desk and leaned forward. "That look doesn't help anyone, Pucey. You'll have to use your words."

Pucey sent her a frown.

Hermione threw her hands in the air. "This is ridiculous!" she cried. "I'm in the middle of very important business, and you're wasting my time! Either start talking or get out of my office!"

"Isobel…" Pucey tilted his head back, squeezing his eyes shut. "I need her…"

"For what?" Hermione urged. "Business, defeating some dark force –"

"No, I need her," Pucey corrected.

"Sexual urges?"

"Did you know that you are one of the most annoying people I've ever met?"

Hermione smirked. "Yes, but you're being just as infuriating. Get to the point, please."

Pucey said something, but it was so quietly spoken that Hermione didn't hear.

"Say what?"

"…my mate…" he murmured just loud enough for Hermione to pick up on the words.

"Who?"

"Isobel…Drew…my mate."

"So, let me get this straight," Lester said. "Ranger and Bomber have a kid."

"Yeah."

"That kid is a war heroine."

Moira nodded.

"She's only nineteen."

"Yeah."

"And has been trained in…everything, more or less."

"Sounds about right."

Adrian Pucey knew that he was handsome, knew that most witches in the wizarding world wanted him. It was something he tended to pride himself on, knowing that he could just look at a woman and have her wanting him in a relatively short amount of time. Not that he did it often, despite what people tended to think.

It wasn't fulfilling. Not like he knew it should be, the way his father and his late grandfather had tended to describe life with their respective partners.

Not the way he'd dreamed about it, pleasuring a woman, a woman without a face, but one he knew in his heart belonged to him.

And, since he saw her in Malfoy Manor two weeks ago, the woman in his dreams had a face, and he knew it was her, knew that he would have her heart or die trying… He longed for her, desired her, ached for her, body, mind and soul.

He would have her. He would take her, make her writhe in pleasure underneath him, make her scream out in pure ecstasy before marking her, making her his for all eternity.

She, Isobel Potter, would be his.

Moira really wanted to say something. The Rangeman conference room had lapsed into an awkward silence, and she really wanted to break it.

But, she had no idea what she was supposed to be saying.

Thankfully, Diesel popped in with a loud, "Hey, baby cousin–oh. I assume you've told them, then."

"You could, umm…yeah, you could say that." Even as he said the words, Lester had a blank mask slamming down over his face.

"Have you found her?" Moira asked.

"…to an extent…" Diesel replied with an embarrassed look.

"What does that mean?"

"Well –" Diesel produced a piece of rolled paper. He unrolled it over the table, and revealed it to be a map of a warehouse. " –I've figured out that she's somewhere in Stark Street, or the area surrounding it, but my instincts tell me that she's in this warehouse."

"Your instincts?" Ranger asked with a raised eyebrow.

"You got any solid proof of this?" Moira inquired.

"It was the only place in the area that had wards up," Diesel answered. "I would bet an extremely large amount of money that this is where Drew is. But there's something else."

"What?"

He shook his head. "Whoever's there…they've figured out how to create a magic sink –"

"What's that?" Stephanie leaned forward.

"It's when you drain an area of magic," Moira replied. "You technically wouldn't be affected because you're a Muggle –a non-magical human being. But, if I or Diesel were to walk in there, we would lose most of our magic for the length of time we were there. Depending on how long you're in one, aftereffects can include temporary dizziness and drowsiness. In a way, it makes things easier because the enemy can't use magic either –"

"But it also makes it a lot harder," Diesel corrected. "Because the enemy isn't using magic. And we can't Apparate in and out of there –"

"What do you mean, the enemy isn't using magic?"

"Greyback and the Lestrange brothers have somehow managed to get their hands on some…very special Muggles."

Hermione's eyes went wide as she suddenly understood what was going on.

"You're a –you're Veela?" she stuttered in disbelief.

"Oh, well done, Granger, thirty points to the bushy-haired Gryffindor," Pucey replied sarcastically. "Half, if you really must know."

"Unless you're going to be helpful, I'm going to have to ask you to leave. In case you haven't noticed, my best friend, and your supposed mate, is missing, and I don't have time to play mind games with snobby, egotistical, asinine Slytherins such as yourself. You either help, or you get your ridiculously nice arse the hell out of my office, do we have an understanding?" she asked, leveling a questioning look at him that she'd been told would have made Snape himself proud.

"Moira Curtis."

"Ms. Curtis, this is Hermione Granger."

"Nice to speak to you again, Ms. Granger, but I wish it was under better circumstances."

"As do I. I've got information to add to this investigation."

"And that is?"

"Adrian Pucey is half-Veela…and he's named Drew Potter as his mate."

"That could be bad."

"The other… there's a hunch I've gotten since I spoke to you last.."

"And that is?"

"Rabastan and Rodolphus Lestrange have a bastard half-brother. When Drew went to speak with him, she told me later that he said they were trying to bring Voldemort back from the dead –"

"I know this already, Ms. Granger."

"Right, well, I've recently questioned a few werewolf Death Eaters in Azkaban. I have been led to believe that Greyback's going to try and use Drew to spawn the next great werewolf population."

"Bloody hell! Are you serious…wait, Potter can't have children."

"But it was Greyback who rendered her infertile with some sort of dark magic. My guess is that he knows how to undo the magic. It makes sense –she is virtually the most powerful witch in the world, and he's keeping her alive? They could have already killed her –they don't need her alive to bring Voldemort back."

"But Voldemort would be the one to want to kill her. And if Greyback used dark magic to render Drew infertile, he'd have to use magic make her fertile again. For that, he'd have to take her out of the sink and risk her escaping –why would he do that?"

"They've already figure out how to take the magic out of a whole area. What makes you think they can't do it to a person?"

Moira hung up and was tempted to throw the phone at the wall again. It wouldn't have really mattered, because she had a Stone Age Nokia, but it would have made her feel a lot more in-control at that moment.

She looked to Ranger, who had a questioning look on his face.

"We need to go, and we need to go now."

Drew had her back against the wall right next to the door, and she was barely resisting the urge to begin connecting her occipital lobe with the wall as hard as she could.

Think, Potter, think! What can you do?

And then she heard the door begin to open and she saw her chance. The guard had barely stepped foot through the door before Drew was moving around the door and putting her knife to the back of his neck.

"Freeze," she said coldly.

Drew was superbly proud of herself when the guard pushed her arm away, swung around and made to point his gun at her. Before he'd even managed to turn all the way around, she had put a foot into his groin.

The guard made to yell, but the sound hadn't even made its way out of his mouth before she was hitting him in the neck right where the pulse was. He slumped to the ground, unconscious.

Too easy.

"Really should have sent two," she muttered, dragging the body into the closet and shutting the door. "Probably three. Oh, you've got some nice stuff here. I'm really sorry about this, but I might have to borrow your gun. And your vest. And you probably won't be getting either back anytime soon."

She walked out of the closet, making sure that it was locked from the outside, five minutes later, with a bulletproof vest, a hat with the brim pushed down over her face, and a guard chained to the inside door of the closet. Drew was tempted to laugh at the sight she must have made; torn LBD, mussed, frizzy hair, a black eye, wearing a military vest and carrying a extra nine-millimeter.

On top of that, she wasn't wearing shoes, and she really couldn't figure out when she'd lost them, but –

"Hey! Where do you think you're going?"

Drew stopped her thought process and began to run.

"What's the story with the American DMLE?" Moira asked as she and Ron followed the Muggles towards the garage. Stephanie, despite their pleas, had refused to stay behind, so she had been directed to remain near the truck with Ron, Woody, Hal and Bobby. Even getting her to promise that much had been a struggle.

"They're refusing to send backup," Ron replied, eyes narrowed. "They won't even consider it unless you talk to them personally."

Moira sighed in frustration as she pulled her phone back out again, dialing as she spoke furiously, "Do they not understand that there are lives at stake here? Particularly one of a war heroine?"

The secretary picked up immediately. "Department of Magical Law Enforcement, how may I –"

"This is Senior Auror Moira Curtis, calling for Johnson."

"I'm sorry ma'am, Mr. Johnson has requested that he not be disturbed–"

"Listen, then," Moira said dangerously, catching the attention of Ranger as she climbed into the shotgun door of a huge, black SUV. "I don't care that Johnson doesn't want to be disturbed –my issue takes precedence over his little session with one of his Junior Aurors. There are lives at stake here, and I mean lots of lives, do you understand? You either get him on the phone, or I will have your entire department on its knees before the WWC before he has time to prematurely ejaculate. And I will come for your job first. Got that?"

Ranger was smirking as the secretary asked her to hold.

"Impressive," he noted. "What's WWC?"

"'World Wizarding Court,'" Moira replied. "Sort of like your 'Hague'."

A scratchy, irritated voice answered the phone. "This had better be damn important, Curtis. If it isn't, I will have your job –"

"Drew Potter has been kidnapped, and I need backup. There's been a plot to resurrect one of the darkest wizards of all time, and you refuse assistance to my Aurors? What the hell is wrong with you?"

A sigh. "Look, Curtis, my entire department is tied up in different affairs; I don't have the resources to pool to send a backup team. The best I can do would be for me to get you a couple of ward dismantling specialists, but that is honestly it –"

Moira hung up in the middle of one of his sentences.

Drew's bare feet slapped against cheap linoleum as the roar of her pulse thudded heavily in her ears. There were heavy footfalls close behind, and Drew knew that she had to get away quickly or be captured once more.

The hallway ahead split into two different directions. On a whim, Drew sped ahead much faster than she thought herself able to, and hung a right.

Bad decision.

She slid into a broad chest, felt a pain in the side of her head, and was out.

"Are you sure this is it?" Moira asked Diesel as she climbed out of the SUV and surveyed the area.

It was surprisingly well-kept, with freshly painted parking lines in the lot, and a wide field of short, green grass that separated the parking lot from the actual building. The building itself was maybe two stories high, and gave off a far more intimidating aura than most of the other buildings Moira had investigated.

"Have you ever known me to be wrong?" Diesel replied indignantly. "Can you see that ward?"

Moira stared for a few moments, until a bright, shimmering purple surrounding the building revealed itself to her. "Yeah."

"That's the edge of the sink. It won't block you out, but it will probably alert them that we're -"

"It's too late for that," Santos interrupted, glaring with a deathlike intensity as several figures made their way out of the door.

The last five people to come out the door were the two Lestrange brothers, Greyback, and a guard holding up a slumped figure.

"Drew!"

"What is it that you want, Greyback?"

"Isn't it obvious, my dear?"

Drew's eyes opened, and the first thing she noticed was the way her toes curled into the dewy grass. To her utter annoyance, the body armour was gone, but, to her relief, the sheathed knife was still hooked to her underwear. Her head hurt, and her legs felt like they'd fallen asleep. She wanted to lie down, but there was an arm wrapped too tightly around her waist, and a gun pressed under her chin.

A noise of protest made its way involuntarily from her throat.

"Look who's awake."

Drew lifted her head and wearily surveyed the scene in front of her.

There were a lot of people with guns. A lot.

And then there were Ron and Moira, right in the middle, with masked looks of tension and anger.

"Your friends came to get you, Mudblood," Greyback growled lowly in her ear. "How…touching."

Drew fought the urge to spit at him. "Fuck. You."

Greyback backhanded her then, and angry noises were suddenly being emitted from across the field. Drew's head, and most of her body as well, whipped to the side and were dragged back by the guard who held her. He adjusted his grip on her and continued to press the gun more firmly under her chin.

"We're going to get you out of this, Drew," Moira called out.

Drew turned her gaze to meet Greyback's yellowed eyes. Next to him stood Rodolphus and Rabastan, both looking equally intimidating.

"I'm not particularly worried," she spat.

Greyback laughed. "Ah, but you are. I can smell it." As if to further prove his point, he leaned closer to her, running his nose through her hair, and sending the coldest of shivers up Drew's spine as her nose was assaulted with the stench of blood and rotting meat. "There will be more, I promise you, little Mudblood–"

Drew threw an elbow into the stomach of the guard holding her. He grunted, and she smashed the back of her head into his nose hard enough to make him loosen his grip. He didn't completely let go of her, but took her with him as he fell.

She landed on her back in the grass, and all hell broke loose.

A/N: Be sure to press that little review button below! Reviews (and cliffies!) are my drug of choice, and I am a stone-cold addict!