Autumn is the Cruelest Season

Blaise took the stairs two at a time and ran down the hallway toward Hermione's room, all the while steeling himself for the worst. Smythwecke was waiting in the corridor.

"Well?" Blaise demanded.

"I'm not really sure how to tell you this," Smythwecke said cautiously. "I've never seen..."

"JUST SAY IT, MATE!"

"Blaise?"

"In a minute, love. I'm talking to your healer," Blaise said absentmindedly. To Smythwecke, he said, "WELL? ARE YOU GOING TO TELL..." His voice trailed off as Smythwecke grinned at him and Blaise turned toward the doorway. Hermione was sitting up in bed, smiling weakly. "Hermione, are you really..." Blaise hit the floor with a thud.

He awoke several minutes later in an armchair, cold compress pressed to his forehead. He gingerly touched the back of his head and winced at the knot there. Opening his eyes, he found his wife staring at him, concern etched on her face.

"You're really all right?" he said softly. "I wasn't having a dream?"

"This is not a dream," she replied, just as softly, reaching for his hand and giving it a squeeze.

He stared at her for a long moment, but quickly became overwhelmed by the emotions of the last two months. While he was overjoyed that she was awake, part of him thought that this day would never come. Add his lack of sleep for the last two months and the stress of keeping up appearances, and Blaise could feel the tears gathering in his eyes. Dropping her hand, he stood abruptly. Just as he got to the door, he heard her say uncertainly, "Blaise?"

"I...I can't..." he choked out, voice rough with unshed tears.

"Blaise, stay here," she pleaded. Without turning around, he shook his head. "Please," she added. Another quick shake and then his hand was on the handle. "Don't leave me," she said in a small voice. That proved to be his undoing and, just as abruptly as he had stood, he settled on the bed, wrapping his arms around her, careful not to squeeze too hard. She could feel his hot tears on her neck and rocked him gently.

"I thought...I didn't want...I couldn't...we needed..." she heard between choked sobs. Suddenly, he straightened, wiping his eyes on his sleeve. "Merlin, Anthony..." he said. Smiling slightly, he explained, "We have the most beautiful little boy, Hermione. He's got a head full of beautiful brown, curly hair and two of the bluest eyes I've ever seen. He's perfect...Hold on a tick," he said, rising from the bed and heading toward the door. Right before he walked out, he assured her he'd be back soon. "I love you, Hermione."

"I love you, too," she responded. True to his word, Blaise was back several minutes later, holding their son.

"Anthony, I want you to meet your mum," he said to the baby as he settled back down on the bed. "Hermione, this is Anthony."

"He's beautiful," she said, tears streaming down her face. "Can I..." She gestured to her son. Blaise carefully laid the baby in her arms. Cradling him with one hand, Hermione used the other to gently stroke his cheek. "Hello, Anthony," she said softly.

Gazing at his mother with those big blue eyes, Anthony Salvatore Zabini smiled for the first time.

**********************************

"Get some rest," Jane said, giving her daughter a squeeze. After a week of being poked and prodded at St. Mungo's, Smythwecke had finally released Hermione and she was home.

"I will, Mum," Hermione replied, reluctantly relinquishing her hold. She watched as her mother held tightly to Harry's hand and the two of them apparated away. The rest of their visitors had left shortly before. "Alone at last," she said to Blaise.

He smiled slightly and opened his mouth to answer her when Anthony began to cry. Hermione moved toward the staircase. "You're supposed to be resting," Blaise said, bounding up the stairs. Smythwecke had outlined just what Hermione's body was going through internally as it tried to heal from her injuries; he'd been adamant about not allowing her to do any heavy lifting.

"I've been resting for the last week," she grumbled under her breath. Several minutes later, Blaise reappeared at the top of the stairs, holding Anthony.

"I think he's hungry," Blaise announced as he carried the infant down the stairs. Moving into the kitchen, he removed a bottle of formula from the refrigerator and used his wand to warm it.

"Could I...feed him?" Hermione asked uncertainly, sitting at the kitchen table.

"Are you sure you're up to it? He's getting awfully heavy," he replied. "I don't want you..." He trailed off at the look Hermione was giving to him. "All right," he said, carefully placing the infant in her arms. He handed her the bottle and watched carefully as she placed it in Anthony's mouth. Not caring who was feeding him, he eagerly sucked. When the bottle was half-empty, he waited for Hermione to stop and burp the baby. "Hermione! You need to burp him!" he exclaimed.

"Fine," she said mildly, pulling the bottle from Anthony's mouth and lifting the baby to her shoulder. When she winced, Blaise leaped forward and took Anthony from her. "Blaise!"

"You can finish feeding him in a tick," he replied, patting the baby on the back until he heard a loud burp. "Good boy," he said before handing the baby back to Hermione.

"Would you stop hovering?" Hermione demanded. "We're fine."

*****************************

"I'm going to bed," Hermione said with a yawn.

Blaise glanced up from his desk. "Good night," he said, pulling his reading glasses off his face.

"You're not coming to bed?"

He shook his head. "I've got some things to finish." Standing, he went over and helped her up from the couch. Planting a gentle kiss on her cheek, he said, "I'll be up soon, I promise. Do you need some help?"

She shook her head. Blaise watched as she left the room and buried his head in his hands. All he wanted to do was grab her and shag her senseless, but she moved slowly and grimaced every time she stood or walked or held the baby. It was too soon for them to do anything like that so it was safer for him to keep his distance.

Hermione woke several hours later to the sound of a baby crying. She wasn't sure where she was at first, but soon remembered that she was home with her husband and her child. Turning over, she found the other side of the bed was empty and cold; Blaise hadn't come to bed. As Anthony continued to wail, she threw back the covers and swung her legs over the side, slowly standing. Shrugging her dressing gown on, she shuffled down the hall to the nursery.

"Shh, Anthony," she said softly, lifting her son out of his crib. "Mummy's here. Are you hungry?" Anthony continued to cry as she carried him down the stairs and into the kitchen. Holding him with one arm, she opened the refrigerator with the other and removed a bottle. As she stood there, baby in one arm, bottle in the other, she wished she had a wand. Shifting Anthony onto her hip, she turned on the tap and let the water run. When it was hot, she ran the bottle under the water.

"Hermione?" Blaise asked sleepily. His hair was sticking out wildly as he ran a hand through it. "What are you doing?"

"Warming up Anthony's bottle."

Taking the bottle from her, he pulled his wand from his shirt pocket and uttered a spell. "You should get back to bed," he said, trying to take the baby from her.

"Once I feed Anthony, we can all get to bed," she said firmly. Blaise sighed and handed her the bottle, watching as she fed and burped Anthony. Once the bottle was finished and Anthony burped one final time, he motioned for the baby.

Taking him, Blaise said, "Go up to bed. I'll be up there when he's down."

"I'll wait."

"Hermione," he warned.

"You told me you'd come to bed earlier, and you didn't," she accused.

"I fell asleep on the couch." She rolled her eyes at this admission. "I haven't slept in our bed since you..." His voice trailed off as he stared at Anthony's curly head.

"Why?"

"Because you weren't there!" he blurted out, striding out of the kitchen.

Hermione stood for a moment, astonished, before hurrying after him. Halfway up the stairs, a pain ripped through her side and she stopped, leaning against the wall for support. When Blaise came out of Anthony's room five minutes later, she was still standing here, trying to catch her breath.

"Are you all right?" he asked, rushing down the stairs.

"I'm fine," she huffed, pushing his hand away.

"You are not fine," he replied, scooping her up in his arms and carrying her to their room.

"Blaise Zabini! Put me down!"

"Shh, you'll wake the baby," he said, pushing open their door and gently setting her on the bed.

"Where have you been sleeping?"

"On the couch," he replied with a wry smile.

"Because I was..."

Blaise shrugged. "The bed was too big without you hogging it."

"I do not hog the bed," she said haughtily until she realized he was teasing her. This felt right, normal. "Are you coming to bed now?"

"On one condition," he agreed, "when Anthony wakes, you let me get up with him."

She nodded and watched as he quickly unbuttoned his shirt and shucked his trousers. When he bent over to open the drawer containing his pajamas, her eyes darkened and a small grin spread across her face. Pulling on his pajama bottoms, he hastily dove under the covers.

"'S cold in here," he complained.

Without warning, Hermione turned on her side, curling against his body and laying an arm across his chest. He stiffened for a moment before relaxing and encircling her with one arm and tucking the other behind his head.

"Warmer?" she asked softly. She felt him nod against her head. "Love you."

"I love you, too," he said before sleep claimed them both.

She was again awoken by the sound of a baby crying. Glancing at the clock, she realized that they'd been asleep for almost three hours. Blaise was turned on his side, back to her, snoring softly. Smiling to herself, she rose from bed.

"H-Hermione?" he called out groggily. "You all right?"

From the door, she answered, "Anthony's up."

"You promised me that you'd let me get him," he said, flinging back the covers.

"When was the last time you slept through the night?" When he didn't answer, she continued, "That's what I thought. Please go back to sleep."

"B-But..."

"Go back to sleep," she commanded.

He knew better than to argue with her and, muttering under his breath, watched her leave the room.

*******************************

Blaise was having the most amazing dream, involving him and Hermione tangled together on the couch in her common room. Dream Hermione had slowly unbuttoned her shirt as Dream Blaise watched, eyes widening. Her hands slid around to the back of her bra and she undid it, throwing it across the room. Her hands went to his trousers and undid the button. Just as she was moving her hand into his trousers, she changed tactics and kissed his neck.

"Mmm," he said, quite inarticulately.

The kisses continued and then Dream Hermione's hand was under his shirt. Looking down, he wondered when he'd put his shirt back on. Last he remembered, Dream Hermione had removed it for him.

"Mmm," he mumbled more loudly.

"Why, Mr. Zabini, you're such a smooth talker," Hermione said, laughing lightly, as her hand slid lower. Blaise's eyes snapped open as he realized this wasn't a dream and that Hermione was really brushing her hand against the front of his trousers. He yelped and jumped out of bed while Hermione sat up suddenly. "You're...you're..." She gestured toward his lower half. "Just from...that," she said, astonished.

He felt his face heat up. "Well, it is morning," he managed to mumble.

"Is it always...like that...when you wake up?"

"Depends what I've been dreaming about," he admitted. 'Which is you every night,' he added silently.

"And last night?"

He rolled his eyes; she didn't expect him to just say it, did she? Better to turn the tables on her.... "What do you think?"

"Who was she then?"

Blaise picked up on the hurt tone her voice had taken on. "Honestly, Hermione, after our discussion this morning, whom do you think I was dreaming about?" he said, shaking his head.

She blushed bright red. "Really?" she squeaked out. Blaise nodded once, but couldn't bring himself to look her in the eye. "What were we doing?" she asked, sounding quite interested in the whole thing. When he rolled his eyes again, she clarified, "I mean, specifically, what...um...were we doing?"

"You really want to know?" he asked, incredulously.

She patted the bed next to her and nodded. Blaise, still too embarrassed by this subject, missed the eager look on her face as he took a seat on the edge of the bed. Although Hermione had tucked her legs under her, he took care to keep both feet planted on the floor. Otherwise, he was afraid he might just grab Hermione and show her what he'd been dreaming about. "Well," he said, staring resolutely at his feet, "you and I were on the couch downstairs and we were...kissing...and all that...and you took off your shirt...and..." He mumbled the last bit.

"Pardon?"

His head snapped up and he locked eyes with her. "You also took off your bra."

"Oh." She paused. "Is that all?"

'And then you started to put your hand down my trousers,' he thought. There was no way he was telling Hermione that. Instead, he said, quite simply, "No."

"Then what happened?"

Blaise stood up abruptly and shook his head. "No. I can't do this. I'm not discussing this with you. It's too odd." He cleared his throat. "I'm going to go back to my dormitory."

As he opened the door, she blurted out, "I'm sorry that I kissed Seamus." In the discussion this morning, he'd forgotten that Hermione had kissed Seamus last night. Without turning, he nodded once and left.

************************************

Three days had passed and Hermione was becoming impatient with Blaise. He barely let her get out of her chair without clucking over her like a mother hen. Whenever she tried to do anything with Anthony, he hovered as if he were afraid she'd break the baby. And, most frustratingly of all, he hardly touched her and hadn't kissed her properly since she woke up.

She read Anthony a story after lunch (The Velveteen Rabbit, her favorite childhood story) and, ignoring Blaise's pointed look, carried the baby upstairs and put him down for a nap. On the way back down the stairs, she paused to catch her breath.

"I told you not to..." Blaise began when he saw her leaning on the railing.

"Shut it!" Disregarding the pain in her side, she drew herself to her full height and stomped down the stairs and past Blaise.

He shook his head. Didn't she see that he just wanted her to get better? Sighing, he followed her into the study, where she had curled up on the couch with Hogwarts: A History. If he remembered correctly, that was her third copy of the book. The others had simply disintegrated from being read so much.

"I suppose that I'm overtaxing myself by reading," she said, voice dripping with sarcasm.

Lifting her legs up and onto his lap, he collapsed onto the couch. "I'm just worried about you," he admitted.

Face softening slightly, she sighed. "I know. It's just that you're always hovering. Honestly, you're worse than Mum." Jane had called several times every day since Hermione's homecoming.

Blaise grinned sheepishly. "I'll try to hover less."

"It's not even that," she said, putting her bookmark in and setting the book on the side table. At his arched eyebrow, she explained, "You're treating me differently. And I don't like it."

"Differently how?" he said, frowning. Had she picked up on the lust that he was sure was rolling off of him in waves now that she was home?

"Y-You haven't even kissed me properly!" She flushed as she said it, feeling like the schoolgirl she once was.

"I haven't?"

"NO!" she shouted.

"Oh." He leaned closer to her until their lips were mere millimeters apart. "I'm sorry," he said. Hermione shivered when she felt his breath on her lips. "I do hope you can forgive me." And with that, he closed the small space separating them and brushed his mouth over hers, unconsciously imitating their first kiss. Pulling back, he scanned her face for a reaction.

She grinned. "I'll think about forgiving you," she said before pressing her mouth to his. His tongue traced over her lips and she opened her mouth to him, seeking out his tongue with her own. Several seconds into the kiss, she found herself flat on her back with Blaise partially draped over her. He was propped on one elbow while his other hand clutched her hip. "Blaise," she groaned when he began to place butterfly kisses along her neck.

"Hermione, I've missed you so..."

"Hullo, Blaise, I just wanted..." a voice called from the floo.

Blaise leapt off of Hermione and straightened his jumper. "Harry," he said nonchalantly. "What can I do for you?"

"I can speak to you later," Harry said uncertainly, glancing from Blaise to Hermione and back to Blaise.

"Nonsense. What is it?" Blaise said.

"I was wondering if you were still coming out for Boys' Night."

"Um, I don't think..." he began to answer.

"He'll be there," Hermione interrupted.

"Hermione, I don't think..." Blaise said, turning to her.

"Harry, he'll be there," she said firmly.

"We're at Ron's this week. Bye!" he said before disappearing.

"I don't think I should go. You've only just gotten back."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I thought you said you wouldn't hover."

"There's a difference between not hovering and leaving the house!"

"You're going. And that's final." She picked up her book and, opening it, went back to reading.

*************************************

Blaise knocked on the door to their bathroom. Hermione had gone up about twenty minutes before for a soak. Getting no answer, he knocked a little louder. From behind the door, he could hear the wireless playing something. Shaking his head, he grasped the knob and turned.

There, climbing out of the tub like some Greek goddess (to Blaise's eyes, at least) was his wife, naked and wet. He stared for a long moment, trying to remember why he'd come up to the bathroom. Finally, when his trousers had tightened rather uncomfortably, he averted his eyes and blindly handed her a towel. After she grasped it, he waited several seconds before looking at her again. The dark blue towel was wrapped around her, one corner tucked in to secure it. Her hair sat heavy and wet against her bare shoulders and Blaise involuntarily squeezed his eyes shut.

"Blaise?" she prompted.

Eyes popping open, he answered, "Right. I wanted to let you know that I was leaving. If you need anything..."

"You can apparate home in a second, I know," she finished his sentence.

"Well, then, I reckon I'll be off," he said, pecking her on the cheek and fleeing the bathroom. Once he'd shut the door behind him, he leaned against the wall, breathing heavily. He hadn't seen Hermione naked in two months. And the last time she was naked, she certainly hadn't looked like that. Shaking his head to empty it of all thoughts of a naked Hermione--possibly writhing underneath him--he forced himself down the stairs. Grabbing his wand, he apparated away with a 'pop.'