A/N: Thank you all so much for your reviews, favorites and follows after last chapter! You can follow me on tumblr (nauticalparamour) where I post sneak peeks, story updates and answer questions.

Please let me know what you thought of chapter forty-three and be on the lookout for chapter forty-four soon!

January 1970

Living with Mrs. Figg was not unpleasant, but it had Hermione vacillating between guilt and uselessness. The squib woman mostly kept to herself, though she was able to talk for hours about kneazle breeding. It made Hermione's heart ache for Crookshanks, her own bandy-legged half-kneazle. She hoped that Ron or Harry were taking good care of him in her absence.

Hermione felt completely unable to assist on any task to bring down Voldemort, save for reading endless tomes on the history of Helga Hufflepuff, which was turning out to be a rather dull affair. There was no endless lore about a lost diadem for the woman who started the badger house at Hogwarts, and it seemed that she had endless tea sets and bracelets and jewelry, all which could be used for a horcrux, but none that seemed significant enough to look for.

Even if she was able to find some useful piece that they should be scouring the wizarding world for, Hermione knew that she would be held back by her pregnancy. As the decade died, Hermione had only become rounder and rounder with child. Once a very fit girl, Hermione felt entirely hampered by her new shape, her belly constantly getting in the way of tasks that were once simple. Godric, even walking up and down the stairs left her out of breath.

She could almost hear Molly's voice assuring her that it was normal - her baby's body taking up space in her body, pushing up against her diaphragm and not allowing her to breathe as deeply as she once did. Knowing that it was normal certainly did not make it any easier to live with.

Hermione could not pretend that she was not pregnant for even one second. Her little one seemed to constantly move and push and shove, kicking against Hermione's absentminded hand again and again, trying to remind her of the life that she had created with Rodolphus.

The young witch sunk into the window seat that looked out from her room onto the street. The sun was already going down, reminding her that it was just another day that she hadn't gotten the guts to write her ex-boyfriend and tell him about the baby. So much for Gryffindor courage.

She spent more hours than she cared to admit thinking about what his reaction would be. Surely, he would be upset that she'd kept it from him, but what would happen when the shock wore off? In her daydreams, she liked to imagine that he would be thrilled, that he wanted to be a part of the baby's life. But, reality was persistent, and it always crept in. Even if Rodolphus was excited about the baby, she wasn't sure that he would be able to do the right thing for them. If he wasn't able to stand up to his father about dating her, how could she trust him to protect their half-blood child?

Even worse was the sneaking suspicion that Rodolphus wouldn't be so thrilled about the baby. In all their time together, they had never really talked about a future, and most certainly had not talked about making a family. Would he command her to remain out of his life as she had done for the past seven months? Had he moved on to some other witch, better suited to him?

Remembering her last run in with Bellatrix in Diagon Alley, Hermione recalled that the Slytherin suggested that Rodolphus was going to be betrothed to a Greengrass. If this Greengrass was anything like Daphne from her year, Hermione was sure that Rodolphus would be smitten. Daphne was incredibly beautiful and pureblood to boot. The match was certain to please his father, and doing as his father said seemed to be the only thing that Rodolphus was interested in.

Convincing herself that Rodolphus was better off with some nameless witch couldn't kill the intense guilt that she felt for keeping her pregnancy a secret from him for so long though.

"Ooh," Hermione said pressing her hand to her stomach as she was overcome by a completely foreign sensation. It felt like her belly was growing tighter and tighter, until it reached some unknown point and then relaxed. "That was unusual."

Knowing that she couldn't just spend the evening talking to herself, Hermione descended the stairs, intending to help Mrs. Figg prepare dinner. "Pot roast tonight?" she asked the older woman, before grabbing a peeler and beginning to clean the potatoes. It was unusual to go back to an entirely muggle existence after being in the magical world for so long, but it was nice to have something to keep her mind occupied. Anything to keep her mind off of the queer sensation in her belly.

Mrs. Figg nodded. "It's Sunday," she agreed, having kept a tradition of preparing a roast every Sunday for as long as she could remember.

Hermione was halfway through her pile of potatoes when the feeling just couldn't be ignored any longer. Grabbing onto the counter for support, she let out a little huff of pain, catching the older woman's attention immediately.

"Are you alright, Hermione?" she asked, pressing a hand to her lower back.

"Um, I'm not sure," Hermione answered, feeling relief when the tightening was over again. "I've got this odd pain in my stomach, but it comes and goes."

"Only...now you can't ignore it?" Mrs. Figg asked, a knowing look in her eyes.

"Er, yes, I suppose it's grown more persistent," Hermione agreed.

Mrs. Figg let out a little laugh when Hermione still hadn't cottoned on to what was happening to her. "I can't believe you need an old widow like me to tell you what's happening," she said with a roll of her eyes. "You're in labor, Hermione."

Hermione felt as if the rug had been pulled from under her. "Merlin, it's too early!" she exclaimed, grabbing onto her bump.

"You're only a week off of your due date," Mrs. Figg said with a grin at her panic, seeing only the excitement of the situation.

"I know, but...I'm not prepared," she answered lamely, embarrassed at her nerves. How was it possible that she'd gone her whole pregnancy without properly preparing for the actual labor? She was Hermione Granger for fuck's sake! Feeling her knees go a bit weak as another contraction hit, she was even more disappointed that she hadn't realized she was having contractions. Of course that's what the oddly rhythmic pain was. "I don't have a bag to take to the hospital."

"I am sure that they will have everything that you need there," Arabella said, still sounding far too amused with Hermione's panic.

Hermione bit her lip, trying to remind herself to breath through the contractions. "And I don't even know where I am supposed to go? Can we just got to St. Mungo's or..."

Arabella patted Hermione on the lower back. "You know that we can't go to St. Mungo's," she said. "You'd be found out immediately... and Dumbledore's tasked me with keeping you safe. No, I will ring for a taxi to take you to hospital. Why don't you go prepare a bag while I do that?"

Feeling better with a bit of direction, Hermione returned to her room and began to throw together a few things that she might need, trying to remember all of the details from the books that she read. Of course it was better to go to a muggle hospital, but she wished more than ever that she would have someone she knew to help her through. In her mind, her husband would be there while she gave birth, and maybe her mum, but unfortunately that was just not going to be a possibility for her here in this time. No, she would have to be strong for her baby and do this on her own.

When she was as collected as she could be, Hermione went down the stairs, pleased to find that the taxi was already waiting out front to take her to hospital. "Thank you, Arabella," Hermione said giving the other woman a squeeze of her hand. "Do you think you could...see if Dumbledore could bring Molly Weasley to me? I'd really like to have her there."

"I'll get him the message," Arabella promised, before shooing her out the front door.

The drive seemed to go by in the blink of an eye and before she knew it she was waddling her way into labor and delivery. Hermione was overwhelmed by the beeping and the noise of all the muggle technology, trying not to worry about the advances that had not yet been made. Instead, she tried her best to follow the instructions of her stern muggle nurse as she stripped down into her hospital gown and got into the uncomfortable bed that she would labor in.

Her nurse was quite annoyed to find that Hermione didn't have a chart there, chastising her for not having gotten regular prenatal care. Hermione tried to protest, to promise that she had, but the nurse was simply not having it. Soon, the contractions became too intense for her to even worry about what the nurse was saying.

The pain was somehow more than what she'd imagined, easily the most difficult thing her body had experienced. Time slipped by quickly, but she knew that it was sometime in the middle of the night when it was finally time for her to push. Holding onto her legs, she could do nothing but focus on the doctor's instruction to bear down.

It was such sweet relief when she finally felt the baby leave her body and the doctor proudly pronounce that it was a girl. Hermione felt tears spring to her eyes when she heard the tiny wail of her baby taking its first breaths. "Hearty and hale!" the doctor promised, before the little girl was taken away to be examined and weighed.

After what seemed like an eternity, Hermione finally held her little bundle of joy in her eyes, taking her first look at the baby she and Rodolphus had created. Dark little eyes stared up at Hermione from beneath dark, impossibly long lashes. She was pink and perfect and underneath her cap was a full head of brown hair, wispy curls and all. Sighing, Hermione knew that it was the same color that Rodolphus had...just the slightest hint of red in the right light.

"Do you have a name, mum?" the nurse asked, holding a clipboard, ready to write it down.

Hermione couldn't hide the smile from her lips. "Daisy," she said proudly, looking at her daughter's perfect little lips. Her mouth opened wide in a yawn, apparently content with the name she'd been given.

"And the father's name?" the nurse asked pointedly. Clearly she had been suspicious of Hermione and her unwed status from the minute that she walked into the unit.

The witch blushed. "I'll file it myself," she promised the nurse. "Please just leave the paperwork on my table." She wasn't sure how safe it would be for her to register the birth, even in the muggle world. And, if she left the father's name blank, she would feel even more guilty than she already did for not telling Rodolphus about his daughter. More than ever, her heart ached for him, wanting to tell him about the little creature that had entered their lives. How could he possibly hate someone as perfect as Daisy? She knew that she couldn't keep avoiding her boyfriend for the rest of her life. She needed to speak to Rodolphus.

Disappointed that Molly had not appeared to help her with her labor, Hermione wondered if Arabella hadn't been able to get in contact with Dumbledore, or if he'd simply decided that it wasn't safe for him to bring the witch into the muggle world. In any case, she knew that she would need to speak with Dumbledore soon.

It was time for Hermione Granger to come back from the dead.