Autumn is the Cruelest Season

Blaise Zabini hated autumn. It always reminded him of death. And not just because of the turning of the leaves or the sharp bite that the air always took. No, Blaise hated autumn for the simple reason that almost every bad thing that had happened in his life occurred in the autumn.

When he was 8, his father had died in the middle of the vineyard. Salvatore Zabini had always been sickly and, on the chilly November day, he'd been pruning branches. Blaise had hurried out when darkness fell and it had been he who'd found his father's cold, lifeless body. Yes, he still had Mama and Therese, but he still missed Papa terribly.

When he was 11, his best friend had decided to befriend two complete oafs, Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle, because their fathers were loyal to Voldemort and Blaise's family could have cared less about the whole mess. Yes, he'd met Millicent Bulstrode and Theodore Nott soon afterward, but Millie and Theo couldn't totally make up for the loss of Draco's friendship.

When he was 17, the girl he was beginning to fall for disappeared during their first date in October. When Blaise had returned to the bookstall they'd visited earlier, sending Hermione on to The Three Broomsticks alone, she'd been snatched by Lucius Malfoy. Yes, he'd help to rescue her, but the thought of her alone and scared for those two days left an indelible impression on Blaise Zabini.

When he was 23, his father-in-law was killed in a head-on car crash in late September, leaving Dr. Jane Granger at widow at age 46 and leaving Hermione fatherless at age 23. She'd explained to Blaise about drunk drivers, but he'd only shaken his head about those 'stupid muggles.' Yes, he still had Hermione and Jane as well as his own mother and sister, but in the five years he'd known Anthony Granger, Blaise had grown to love the man like a second father.

Hermione, however, loved autumn. She'd told him once that the brilliant reds and oranges made her feel alive. The chill that gradually crept into the air invigorated her, and signaled that winter was on the way. The fact that autumn was when she'd begun to fall for him only added to its appeal for her. And, now, of course, they had the best reason to love the autumn: little Anthony Zabini was due at the end of November.

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"Hermione, I don't understand why you're going," Blaise said slowly and deliberately, trying to keep his temper in check.

"There's been a mix-up and I have to go in," she replied patiently, "I'll be home in a few hours."

"You're supposed to be on maternity leave!" he shouted, forgetting about keeping his temper.

Knowing better than to get drawn into an argument with him, she pulled his head down to her level and kissed him once. "I'll be fine," she said. Right before she grabbed the Portkey, she turned to him and, smiling, added, "Go to the match."

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Blaise was exulting with his students about Slytherin's defeat of Gryffindor when Snape rushed up to him, ashen-faced.

"Blaise, a moment, please," Snape urged, drawing Blaise off to the side.

"Severus, what's the matter?" he asked worriedly.

"There's been...an attack...at the Ministry," the older man managed to get out.

"An attack?" Blaise repeated dumbly. Understanding dawned across his face. "H-Hermione?"

"She...was...hurt..."

Without waiting for another word, Blaise took off running to the castle.

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Blaise stepped out of the floo into St. Mungo's and shouted at the welcome witch, "You brought my wife here."

"What's her name, sir?"

"Hermione Zabini." It had surprised Blaise tremendously when she changed her name; some things about her were old-fashioned.

The witch checked a parchment. "If you'll have a seat, sir, the healer will be out to talk to you."

Blaise sat down in the waiting area and covered his face with his hands. If anything happened to her or the baby...he shook his head, not allowing himself to complete that thought.

"Mr. Zabini," said a voice. When Blaise looked up, he found a young-looking healer peering down at him.

He nodded and stood up. "Where's my wife?"

"Your wife was involved in an explosion. She's suffered serious injuries. She's being healed now."

"And the baby?" Blaise closed his eyes and prepared for the worst.

"Was delivered already. You have a son; he's up in the nursery."

Blaise's blue eyes snapped open. His son was alive?

"Why don't you go up and see him? I'll have someone come find you when they're done with her."

"Is she..." Blaise could hardly bring himself to ask. "Is she going to be all right?"

The healer shrugged. "I don't know. They're doing the best they can."

On his way to the nursery, Blaise passed the floor. He supposed he should call someone, let them know that he was here, that Hermione was hurt. Jane was out of town at a dental conference and Blaise's mother was too far away to do anything. So, he stuck his head in the fire.

"Hello?"

"Harry, I'm at St. Mungo's..."

"What, did Hermione pop early?" he asked cheerfully.

"No, there was an accident," Blaise's voice broke.

"I'll be right there. Where will you be?"

"The nursery."

"The baby?"

"I'm on my way up to see him now."

"All right, I'm flooing now."

Blaise didn't bother to wait for Harry and made his way to the nursery. The medi-witch at the desk took Blaise to meet his son. Entering the nursery, Blaise was unsure he could do this without Hermione. "She's not here. She may never be here." Blaise pushed that thought out of his mind, took a deep breath and followed her in. There, swaddled in a blanket, was Anthony Salvatore Zabini. He was so very tiny, his face was smushed up and wrinkled and his eyes were closed; Blaise thought he was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen aside from Hermione.

"Would you like to hold him?" the medi-witch asked Blaise.

"Yes," he replied, trying to hold back his tears.

Blaise sat and she lowered his son--his and Hermione's son--into the dark-haired wizard's arms. He was so tiny. Blaise stopped trying to hold back the tears. Despite holding his baby, all he could think of was how much he hated autumn.