Autumn is the Cruelest Season

"Mr. Zabini?" a man said hesitantly.

"That's me," Blaise replied, jumping out of his seat.

"I'm Healer Smythwecke," he said, shaking the dark-haired wizard's hand.

"How is Hermione?" Blaise was almost afraid of the answer.

Smythwecke kept his face carefully neutral. "We've finished healing her physical injuries. However, she's still unconscious."

Blaise sat back down heavily, unsure of how to interpret this information.

"But she'll wake up, won't she?" Ron asked bluntly.

Smythwecke looked from Blaise to Ron and back to Blaise again. Shrugging, he finally answered, "Honestly, I don't know."

"Isn't there a potion or something you can give her?" Ron demanded loudly. Susan reached for his hand and squeezed gently. "I just mean that there must be something you can do," he finished in a quieter tone.

"We're doing all we can," Smythwecke said.

"C-can I see her?" Blaise blurted out.

Smythwecke smiled wanly. "Of course. Just give us a few minutes to finish up."

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Blaise took a deep breath and entered the hospital room. He took one look at Hermione and stopped dead in his tracks. Her skin matched the stark-white bedsheets. Her beautiful brown eyes were closed. Her normally wild hair looked dull and limp spread out over the pillow. Her face was a mass of purplish bruises. He felt his eyes fill with tears.

"Oh, Hermione," he whispered.

Pulling up a chair, he sat next to her, wanting take her hand so very badly, but unsure of whether he should. The medi-witch must have seen the confusion because the next thing Blaise knew, a voice was telling him, "It's all right to touch her."

He gingerly took Hermione's hand and was shocked at how cool it was. He'd been holding her hand for eight years now and never had it been so lifeless.

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As she began to unknot Blaise's scarf, his hands covered hers, stilling them. "Please leave it on. I'll be fine." She nodded in agreement, but only one of his hands returned to his side. The other one held on to hers as they walked. Hermione glanced shyly from their joined hands to Blaise's face and back again. He must have noticed because the next thing he said was, "Is this all right?"

She nodded, face lighting up in a smile. "Shall we go to the bookstall?"

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He brought her hand to his lips in the hopes that he could warm it up.

Blaise swallowed hard. "H-hermione, I..." Shaking his head against the tears, he continued, "I need you. Anthony needs you. You should see him...he's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. Takes after his mum, I daresay. He's got your hair and my ears..." He swallowed the lump that was reforming in his throat. "I...can't do this alone...I don't want to do this alone...we need you..."

He sat there for what seemed like an eternity with her hand pressed to his face.

"Um, Mr. Zabini?"

Blaise turned to find the same medi-witch from before holding something out.

"I thought you might want to hold onto these for the time being," she said as she held out her hand. Hermione's engagement ring and wedding band were sitting in her palm.

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The music began and the joking that had gone on between Ron, Harry, and Frank in an effort to keep Blaise calm immediately ceased. Blaise smiled as his sister glided down the aisle, resplendent in the red robes Hermione had chosen for her attendants. Frank was smiling goofily at Therese. Susan was next and Ron wore the same goofy smile at the sight of his wife. Ginny came down the aisle shortly after, grinning at Blaise. He returned the grin, not entirely sure why she was doing that.

The music changed and, as the strains of Pachelbel's Canon in D began, Hermione appeared flanked by her parents. Blaise felt his chest constrict at the sight of her. Although they were having a traditional wizard wedding, she'd insisted on wearing a muggle wedding gown. At the time, he'd thought she was being silly, but, now, seeing her wearing it made him reconsider his objections. The cream colored gown brought out her tan while the cut showed off her shoulders and accentuated her bust. Hermione had always been beautiful to Blaise, but today she looked spectacularly gorgeous. Her hair was swept up and tamed with what he was sure was more than a few charms and her makeup was subtle, playing up her best features--her large brown eyes and full lips.

Before Blaise quite knew what had happened, Jane and Anthony were hugging first Hermione and then him. Anthony gently placed his daughter's hand in the hand of the boy he considered a son and smiled at both of them.

The ceremony was a blur to Blaise. He remembered staring into Hermione's eyes the entire time, remembered things becoming slightly blurry as tears filled his own eyes, remembered sliding the ring on her finger, and, most importantly, remembered Minerva telling him he could kiss the bride. He drew Hermione to him and, when he kissed her, he tried to express everything he felt for her and couldn't quite find the words to say. Clutching her hand in his own, they dashed up the aisle amid cheers from their family and friends.

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"Blaise?"

The sound of Jane Granger's voice brought him out of his reverie. Rising, he bent down to embrace his mother-in-law.

"She looks so fragile," he said, still hugging Jane.

"You and I both know that she's much stronger than she appears," the older woman said, drawing back to glance down at her daughter. "How are you?" He shrugged in response. "That's not an answer."

"I...I'm frightened," he admitted in a small voice.

Jane hugged him again. "I know."

"Have you seen the baby?"

"I came straight here."

"I'll take you to him."

She nodded. "Give me a moment with Hermione."

The dark-haired wizard nodded and left the room. Jane sat in the chair Blaise had recently vacated and took Hermione's hand in her own. "You're all I have left," she said softly before resting her forehead against their hands and weeping silently. Finally she collected herself and went to find her son-in-law.

He was in the nursery, standing by a bassinette and watching a tiny baby sleep. She crept over and touched Blaise's sleeve. He turned. "Jane, I'd like you to meet your grandson," he said softly, "Anthony Salvatore Zabini."

She felt the tears spring into her eyes. "You named him Anthony?"

Smiling for the first time since she'd seen him, he replied, "What else would we name him?"

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Blaise sat at one end of the leather couch in his study while Hermione occupied the other. She had several sheafs of parchment covered with her neat script. He was empty-handed. "I fail to see why..." he began.

"We need to choose a name fairly," she interrupted.

"Honestly, Hermione, there's only one name for our son," he replied.

"So I don't even get a say? That doesn't sound..."

"Anthony Salvatore Zabini," he broke in before she went on a full-fledged tirade.

"Very fair..." she stopped. "Pardon?"

"Anthony Salvatore Zabini," Blaise repeated. "It's a good Italian name, wouldn't you agree?"

"Do you mean it?" she asked softly, tears welling in her eyes.

He smiled. "You don't like it?"

"Of course I do," she squealed, throwing herself at him. She still wasn't used to her shifted center of gravity and they would up tangled together on the couch. "But I don't want to tell anyone until he's born."

"Hermione, you're being superstitious..." Her mouth swallowed up the rest of his sentence and soon his objection was forgotten.

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Blaise stared at the medi-witch in disbelief. "You want me to do what?"

"Your son needs to be discharged. A hospital is no place for a healthy newborn," she replied matter-of-factly.

"Are you daft?" he asked incredulously.

"I fear she's right. This isn't..." Jane began to say.

"My wife has been unconscious for the last three days. Healer Smythwecke isn't sure she's going to wake up. And now, this bint," he pointed to the medi-witch, a plump woman in her fifties who looked horrified by Blaise's language, "is telling me to take my son. Where in the bloody hell am I supposed to take him?"

Jane put a reassuring hand on his arm and smiled apologetically at the medi-witch. "He's upset," she explained.

"Upset? Upset? Upset is when you ruin a pair of shoes in the rain, upset is when your wife doesn't like that you've gone out with the boys for a few pints. I AM NOT UPSET!" he roared.

"Blaise..."

He shook off his mother-in-law's hand. "Where am I supposed to go, Jane? What am I supposed to do with him? What if she never wakes up?"

At that last question, he dashed down the corridor and disappeared.