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An anguished cry sounded throughout a cold, barren room, lights flickering from the amount of magical force that came from the women that laid on the only furniture that seemed to belong there – an old, nasty bed that had seen better times. 

She was all alone as she wailed from the state of misery that she was in. 

“Damn you, Nott.” The woman spat out as another wave of pain coursed through her body, crying out as she tried her damn hardest to push, push, push. 

But it was just so hard. It was so hard doing this by herself. If only she wasn’t holding Tobias Nott’s future bastard child inside of her, she would have gone straight to St. Mungos. A scandal that would have been – the diagnostic spell that would have been cast would shed light to the entirety of the Wizarding World that she gave birth to a bastard child that belonged to one of the Sacred Twenty-Eights. While she would have loved to see that man crumble, she didn’t have the strength inside of her to be petty right now. 

She heaved a heavy sigh, her face glistening with sweat, her lips swollen from the amount of biting she inflicted on them with her teeth. The pain eased up momentarily, allowing her to briefly remember how she even got to this predicament. 

It was many nights ago – the night that he fell into her bed. In his state of intoxication, his breath reeking of Firewhisky, he had forgotten all about his oh so lovely wife after she refused to be fucked by him and instead fell into the arms of the beautiful Italian snake that was more than willing to open her legs for him, in hopes of him falling into her clutches and leaving his wife for her, allowing her to have access to his vaults. 

The mistake in her (usually) flawless plan, you might ask? 

He didn’t leave his wife for her. If anything, he went on back to the clueless girl, somehow manipulating her in forgiving him and his rough and aggressive manner towards her – and now, the foolish bint was having his baby. An heir. A boy. Of course, the harlot was all cozied up in her bedroom, surrounded by Mediwitches – receiving the best care there is for the sake of a safe birthing of the heir of the house of Nott. 

An aggravated puff of air fell from her lips. 

If you were to have told Emilia Zabini that she would be giving birth to the bastard child of Tobias Nott Sr., she would have laughed in your face. For one, she would have never willingly gotten pregnant - not only for the sake of her beautiful body but also because there was absolutely no true gain from this mistake, as much as it pained her. 

When she had originally told Tobias that she had fallen pregnant, he had barked at her – commanded her – to get rid of the child – to kill it before it reached full term. 

While she had no true desire to be a mother, one that came with no gain and only shame, she would never have obeyed the man after treating her (her!), Emilia Zabini, like some common street whore. No one ever ordered her around. Much less by a dirty Death Eater scum like him. He should consider himself lucky that she would speak nothing of this. After all, she was just having a daughter. A bastard daughter at that. No true value. Not enough to be an heir. Not a boy. 

Another cry of pain escaped her lips as she pushed, her hands firm on her protruding stomach. All that she could hope for is that her body would recover from this. 

She had exhausted herself trying to hide this pregnancy from a Pureblood prince from Africa. He had been courting her for the last few months. He already made plans to marry her and have her bear his heir – can’t exactly do that if she was currently pregnant. She never would have agreed if it weren’t for his vast vaults that would put the entire Malfoy family in shame. She needed to gain access to those vaults. She would do anything to get her hands on it. Even if it meant destroying her body once again with pregnancy. She just couldn’t let that opportunity go. It was for her only. 

It took another hour for Emilia – another hour of pushing, crying out for no one in particular before she finally felt a giant weight leave her body. A few seconds of stunned silence filled the air before a loud, horrifying wail left the child’s lips. Emilia’s nose wrinkled at the sound – this is why she didn’t want children. They were a nuisance. All they did was cry and ruin your figure. Another mouth to feed. Another obstacle from the monetary obligations that should have been all hers. But alas, it wouldn’t matter in a few hours. She needed to get the bastard ready for the Muggles. 

With a soft wheeze, the Italian witch got to work. While she wasn’t entirely sure about taking care of a baby who was just born, she knew enough to prepare her. The small child was soon wrapped in the disgusting bedsheet that she had just given birth in, the only thing visible was her face, all scrunched up and pale. A sneer appeared on her lips. At least the bastard didn’t look anything like her. No one would ever question her. 

She had the face of Tobias Nott. 

Before she could forget, she took her wand out and started to mutter a small incantation, red runes leaving the tip of her wand, watching as they landed on the child’s face, which soon absorbed into her skin. That should keep her little secret safe for a while. For once the child turned eighteen, her true heritage would be revealed. By that time, she would be of age and the bastard would no longer be her problem. 

She left the child on the barren bed for a moment, taking her time to adjust her robes on her, before drinking an experimental potion that is supposed to help mothers who have just given birth to regain their health at an extraordinary rate. A few minutes passed before it took effect, leaving the woman feeling as if she never gave birth whatsoever. She made a mental note to stock up for once it was time for her to give an heir to the African prince. Not that he cared whether it was a boy or girl. He just needed one heir and that was it. 

A charmingly sweet giggle left her lips as she went to grab the bundled-up baby, her robe flowing gracefully as she suddenly disappeared from the room. 

A soft ‘pop!’ echoed throughout the abandoned alley as a figure seemed to appear out of nowhere. The hood of the robe was up, shielding the person’s face from view. Piercing indigo eyes roamed around the alley for a brief moment, looking almost bored. 

“Let’s see…” came a whisper from the robed person, the clicking of their heeled boots echoing in the night. 

Emilia walked through the alley and down the street, one that she had been keeping an eye out on – despite not really caring for the child, she also wasn’t that much of a monster to take her to an orphanage or to any dirty little Muggle. No, the child came from two purebloods, the least she could do is leave the child in the care of seemingly well-off Muggles. Give the girl a chance, if anything. A sick giggle left her lips at the thought. 

It took her only a few moments to finally arrive at the doorstep of an ordinary house, on an ordinary street. Nothing as spectacular as the Zabini Manor, but this would have to do. The pair of Muggles inside this house would do. She knew that they desperately wanted a baby. One that they couldn’t birth themselves. The pity. 

She took her time going up the steps, the child miraculously asleep in the bundle of dirty sheets. “A horrible thing, you are.” She whispered as she stared down at her, watching the child’s face as she bent down to place her near the door. She felt a slight sting inside of her. Is this really the smartest idea? 

Emilia shook her head. This was the best thing that she could do. She stood no chance if she allowed Tobias Nott Sr. to know that he had a living bastard child roaming around in the world, while his own wife paraded around with their new heir. He wouldn’t let the news of this child break his family, even if it was his stupid mistake – thinking only of his cock, instead of his wife. He would kill the child first, before coming to kill Emilia himself for not getting rid of it in the first place. 

Yes. 

Yes, this is the best option. 

This would be the only choice – the only chance that this child would have of surviving in this world. 

She nodded her head, tugging down at the hood of her robe further down her face. She hesitated for a moment before pulling out a piece of parchment and letting it fall on the bundle, before taking her wand out from her sleeve and pointing it to the door. She mumbled softly under her breath, a loud ’bang!’ against the door suddenly filling the air. 

The reaction was immediate. The lights flickered on. There was a shout coming from inside the home. Footsteps could be heard rushing down the stairs. With one last look at the child, Emilia Zabini apparated on the spot, just in time as the door flung open, revealing a frantic Dan Granger, who looked around with a confused expression on his face. 

“What in the world?” Dan muttered under his breath, taking a step out the door before a soft whimper caught his attention. 

“Helen!” He called out to his wife, who had finally made her way down the stairs to see what the commotion was. 

“Dan? What’s wrong?” Helen Granger winced at the shrill in his voice, still half-asleep. She stopped short as her husband made his way inside their home, closing the door behind him with his foot. 

“Dan…” She whispered softly in shock, looking at him with wide eyes. In his arms laid a little bundle of joy, who kept whimpering from the cold of September in London. “Oh dear…” was all she could say as she took tentative steps toward her frozen husband. 

“What do we do?” Dan mumbled to his wife, looking up at her for the first time since she came down. “Someone… someone left a note on her, Helen.” He thrust the parchment into his wife’s shaking hand, who then read it out loud. 

“Take care of her.”

The Grangers stood there for what seemed like hours, before making a silent agreement to themselves. They would take care of this child from now on. This was a sign, surely. Fates brought this child to them, after years of infertility, and they would do everything in their power to take care of this little child. 

They finally completed their little family.

From here on, this little girl was their own. 

Their Hermione.