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The view out the window was breathtaking, the sun glittering off the dark blue waters of the lake. A warm breeze was making the sheer curtains flutter, but Draco hardly took in any of it. His thoughts were troubled and distant, as they often were these days.
His life had taken a dramatic downturn after the war. Narcissa’s death, just over nine years ago, had been the final straw, and Lucius’ mind had begun to crumble. He was nothing like the man Draco had idolised growing up. Lucius had been reduced to a rambling lunatic in the mental wing of St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries.
Draco had been unable to face spending any time at the Manor after his mother’s painful, drawn-out death from Nagini’s fatal bite. Voldemort’s swift retaliation for her lying to him about Harry’s death in the forest. Draco had been horrified when he had learnt he had inherited the Manor upon his twenty-first birthday. There was nothing for him there anymore, and as it was his to do as he wished, Draco had made an appointment with Harry Potter and had gifted the entire estate to the Ministry with express orders that it was to be used as a children’s home in his mother’s honour, for any child who had lost their parents in the war. He’d left a sizable portion of his fortune for its upkeep and had fled England.
Lucius had ranted and raved about it, but Draco had stood firm. He hated the place, so he was glad it was going to be used for something positive. He’d relocated to his mother’s apartment in Paris, and that should have been the end of it.
However, Lucius had escaped and tracked Draco down, only to burst into his room. The wards would not keep a Malfoy out of the flat, only to discover Draco in a very compromising position with two of his male lovers. His father’s mind had finally and irrevocably snapped, and he had been re-admitted to the mental ward, for his own and everyone else’s safety. Draco still felt responsible in some way for his father’s insanity, although, in reality, it had started to manifest itself during the war.
Foolishly, Draco had thought his life could not disintegrate any further. After a few months of feeling ill and unable to keep food down, he had gone to a healer, only to be told he was pregnant. He had scoffed in disbelief. Men can’t get pregnant, he’d loftily told the healer, only to be proved very, very wrong when she had lightly run her wand over his slightly rounded stomach in a complicated pattern, and the sound of a very faint heartbeat had filled the room, and for the first time in his life, Draco was sure he was going to faint.
He had begged for it to be terminated, only for his healer to shake her head. Magical terminations were not possible, no matter how far along the parent was. Feeling trapped and ashamed, Draco had tried to flee, to have the child in seclusion so he could be rid of it.
Unfortunately, that had also not gone as planned. Blaise and Theo had tracked him down in Switzerland and had tried to bring him back to England. Draco had flatly refused. He didn’t care if he never stepped foot in England again, so Blaise had offered his Italian villa to his lovers and the father of his child.
Their blazing row last night still echoed in Draco’s mind, and he flinched as he remembered Blaise's harsh words.
“Go, if that is what you want. Leave the child with us and just go,” he had yelled, frustrated by Draco’s continued refusal to marry them before the child was born. Draco had stormed off and slammed his bedroom door, like the drama queen Blaise had accused him of being.
With their harsh words still echoing through Draco’s mind, the child gave a huge kick to Draco’s startled gasp. He still had not got used to the odd sensation of something kicking his insides. It fascinated Blaise and Theo to no end. They liked to put their hands on Draco’s belly to feel it kick, and Draco reluctantly let them even though he hated it.
Finally pulling his memories back to the present, Draco looked out the window and down towards the pool area. Blaise and Theo were enjoying the warm September sunshine. Blaise had just gone for a swim, as droplets of water glistened on his dark skin like diamonds in the sun, and his bright blue swimming trucks clung to him like a second skin. Those swim trucks were one of Draco’s personal favourites. Dark sunglasses protected his eyes from the sun’s glare.
Theo was also soaking up the sun’s rays, his red bathers a stark contrast to his lean, tanned body. The sun glistened off his sunglasses as he reached for his glass, taking a sip of the contents. He had lost this paleness from skiing in Switzerland over the winter and was well into working on his summer tan. Draco could never lie in the sun like that; with his pale skin, he would have ended up with a severe sunburn.
Feeling the baby kick, Draco subconsciously rubbed his stomach, trying to calm it as he watched its fathers sun themselves.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
“Draco is watching us,” Theo muttered from behind his glass. He had noticed Draco standing at the window watching them about half an hour ago. After their explosive argument last night, one of many, Theo and Blaise had left him alone. They all needed space, needed to work out where they were going, what would happen when the baby arrived. Theo couldn’t speak for Blaise, but he’d loved Draco since they were boys. Their teenage fooling around in the Slytherin dungeons had developed, and Theo had found himself falling deeply in love with his housemate.
Theo never would have imagined that twelve years later he would be in a committed relationship with not only Draco but also Blaise Zabini, and that they would be expecting a child together. They would both have married Draco in a minute, but the stubborn man was holding out, who knew what for. It was a recurring argument; Draco claimed they only wanted to marry him because of the child. They had always wanted to marry him, but yes, they wanted to be legally married before the child was born, to have their names on its birth certificate, but they had loved him for years. The same argument went around and around, and last night their tempers had exploded.
“Go, if that is what you want!” Blaise had roared, fed up with trying to get Draco to see reason. “Just leave the baby and go. We will raise it; we will love it. If we are not enough for you, then go.” Blaise had choked on the last part, but Draco had remained unmoved. Or so it appeared, but Theo had spent years studying the man; the uncontrollable twitch under Draco’s left eye and the throb in the vein in his neck were sure giveaways. He was not as unaffected as he wanted to appear.
More than anything, Theo had wanted to pull Draco into his arms and tell him it would all be alright, they’d work through it, but would they? Draco’s pregnancy had been a shock to all of them, and Theo hated to think of what might have happened if they had not tracked down their runaway lover. He had been too far along to hide the fact that he was carrying their child. Theo had never considered that the child was not theirs, but which of them had fathered it was the question.
They had convinced Draco to see a healer who specialised in male breeding. He had been excited about meeting them all and had learned a great deal about how Draco’s pregnancy came about. Only pureblood wizards could carry a child fathered by another pureblood. Something that went back hundreds of centuries to maintain blood purity, but it was very rare. Draco had asked who had fathered it then, for the astonishing news they both had. The child carried the DNA of all three men. It would be the blending of the Malfoy, Zabini and Nott family lines.
Theo wasn’t sure about the others, but that thought was rather terrifying. All of their bloodlines in one small child. Merlin help them. They had a challenging time ahead of them.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
At Theo’s warning, Blaise pushed his sunglasses up, wincing against the bright sunlight, and scanned the windows of the top level of the villa. He could just make out Draco standing in the window of his corner bedroom, just behind the curtains, watching them. His immediate instinct was to wave, to acknowledge his lover in some way. Covering his eyes again, Blaise deliberately did nothing.
He had loved Draco since they were boys, from about their fifth year, but things had developed in their sixth when a few seventh-year boys had plied them with some smuggled Muggle alcohol. Blaise still had not forgotten that hangover. All others were measured against it.
Snape had shown them no sympathy, not that they expected any. Thankfully, Professor McGonagall had a softer side and allowed them to sleep it off in their dorm room. They had all slept until late and woke still feeling hungover. Feeling grubby, Blaise had hardly woken up before heading for the bathroom, not paying any attention to his roommates, and had barged into the bathroom, pulling the door shut and dropping his pyjama pants to the cold tiles before realising the room was not empty.
Blaise’s brain had gone into free fall at the sight in front of him. A wet, naked Draco Malfoy was enjoying his own company by the faint groans coming from the shower. Being horny teenage boys sharing a dormitory, they had all caught each other wanking more than once. Who was more surprised by Blaise’s bold “Need a hand with that?” he still wasn’t sure, but it had started a spectacular chain of events. Blaise had boldly stepped into the shower, pushed Draco against the tiles, kissed him, their very first, and took him in hand, bringing his friend to a climactic ending. For as long as he lived, Blaise would never forget that spaced-out look on Draco’s face.
That was thirteen years ago, and if anyone had told Blaise at the time that they would be in a committed relationship, well, he would have laughed, but here he was, not only with one partner but two and expecting a child. It had been a bumpy path; the war had started, and they had fought to stay alive. Luckily, they had all made it through, like everyone else; they had lost loved ones, and Blaise was determined that Draco was not going to be another one.
“We have to get him to see reason,” Theo muttered to Blaise’s grunt of acknowledgement.
“You don’t say?” Blaise replied sarcastically, easily dodging Theo’s lazily cast spell.
“Not helpful, Zabini. We have four months to convince Draco to marry us, either be useful or shut up,” Theo snapped. He wasn’t easily riled, by far the most laid back of the three men, but this was far too important to be flippant about.
“I have an idea, but it all depends on whether he is really serious about distancing himself from the Malfoy name.” Theo sat up and spun around to sit on the side of the sun lounger, facing Blaise.
“Well, come on, tell me,” he wanted to shake his boyfriend, but long experience had taught him that Blaise would reply when he was good and ready.
“If he does not marry us before the baby is born, then it bears the Malfoy name, not Zabini or Nott. He claims he wants nothing to do with his family’s legacy. Well, we will see if he means it.” Theo could only stare in shock. It was so simple, but could it work?
“Are you willing to take that risk?” Theo asked, laying his hand on Blaise’s knee. He knew how important it was for Wizarding families to carry on their family line; to take the risk of your child not carrying your name was a huge gamble.
“I don’t know what else to do, Theo. Of course, the baby is important, but Draco is even more so. I just don’t know how else to get it through to him. I love him, I always have, I want to be able to stand up in front of our friends, hell, in front of the whole world and tell them that I’m hopelessly in love with Draco bloody Malfoy, but he keeps stalling us.”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
“You’re going to blackmail me into marrying you?” Draco stared up at his partners, shock written all over his face.
“Blackmail?” Blaise shook his head, “No, Draco, we’re just putting across our side of the argument. You can’t have it all your own way.” Blaise hated to be so blunt, but far too much was at stake. Draco was due to deliver their child in a few months, and they were no closer to being legally bound than when they’d found out he was pregnant.
“Theo?” Draco implored his other lover, normally the most laid back of all of them; however, he just shook his head.
“He’s right, Draco, it’s our child too. We have as much right to have the child legally registered in our name as you do.” Theo sipped his tea, refusing to back down.
Draco glared at both of them. He hated being backed into a corner; however, his lovers had given him a perfect way to accept their proposal, without appearing to. He hadn’t been known as the Heir of Slytherin while at school for nothing. Admittedly, that had been for a different reason, but Draco could be as cunning as anyone when it suited him.
“Is that so!” he snarled at them, not wanting to appear to give in.
“Yes, it won’t be a Malfoy, we’ve decided on Nott-Zabini,” Blaise said, hoping he didn’t sound as terrified as he felt. Backing Draco into a corner had never been a particularly good idea. However, he wasn’t prepared for the sight of the father of his child curled up in helpless laughter. “What the hell is so funny?” Blaise demanded; Theo was as confused as he was.
“You are not… naming my son… that!” Draco managed to stammer between bouts of laughter.
“Why the hell not?” they both demanded at once, ignoring Draco’s bombshell that he was carrying their son.
“Seriously?” he managed to calm down, “Have you listened to how ridiculous that sounds?” At their puzzled looks, he continued, “Nott-Zabini, it sounds like he’s not a Zabini. By the looks on their faces, it had just been pointed out to them.
“He will be a Zabini-Nott, and that’s final,” Draco said, deciding the matter for them all and taking care of the issue of them being married before their son made his appearance, and, even though he would be continuing the Malfoy line, he’d bear his other father’s names.
“So, you’ve finally decided to marry us, have you?” Blaise asked, unable to hide the delight in his voice. “You took your time about it,” he said, leaning down to give Draco a sweet kiss, before being shoved out of the way by Theo.
“I don’t want a huge circus, just us and an official,” Draco demanded. He still felt self-conscious about his belly, and there was no hiding it now.
“Well, he’s due early January, so we had better hurry up,” Theo said, also unable to hide his delight at finally getting Draco to agree to marry them.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Their wedding a month earlier had been a small, quiet affair. An old wizard who had known the Zabini family for years had married them. Their only guests had been their old Italian cleaner, her gardener husband and their French chef. They had decorated the downstairs garden room for the occasion; it had been covered in every bloom available, the benefits of being the home of three powerful wizards, and they had served up a decadent lunch that had been set out in the shade of the trees. Even though the day had been cold, it was a beautiful, clear, sunny day. Nona had promised to make him beautiful, and Draco had no choice but to put himself in her hands. The beautiful silk tunic she had made was a work of art and hid his eight-month pregnant belly as well as could be expected.
Draco had blamed baby hormones on his teary “I am” when the wizard had asked if he was bonding with Blaise and Theo of his own free will. Of course, the baby decided to wake up and give Draco one almighty kick.
The last month had been a blur, what with the wedding, their first Christmas as a married triad. They had planned a quiet New Year as well; however, their son had different ideas, and after a hurried and panicked call to their healer, he had ordered them to get to the local medi-clinic, where Draco was already booked in immediately.
After a hurried admission and calming down his two panicking husbands between contractions, Draco had been wheeled into the theatre while Blaise and Theo had been detained and forced to gown up before they were allowed to follow him. He couldn’t help his delighted grin at their loss of composure.
Twenty minutes later, the angry cries of their newborn son filled the room to Draco’s joy. He was sore and feeling dozy from the potions they had given him, but it had all been worth it.
“Say hello to Scorpius Zachary Bartholomew Zabini-Nott,” Blaise had carefully carried the baby, thankfully cleaned up, over to Draco so he could see his son for the first time. Scorpius did not appear to be very happy about the whole situation, and Draco could not blame him. Tender lips pressed a kiss to his temple, and Draco groggily turned his head to smile up at Theo, whose eyes were suspiciously wet.
“He’s beautiful,” Theo had whispered to Scorpius’ continued wailing.
“He has a fine set of lungs on him,” the healer said, “He’s perfectly healthy, close to nine pounds, and he is going to be tall like his daddies.” Stroking his hand over Scorpius' hair, the healer smiled. “The medi-witches will be here shortly to take you up to your room. I’ll let you get acquainted with your son.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Their villa had soon exploded with the cries and laughter of a baby and a toddler. Two and a half years later, Scorpius had been joined by his brother Nathaniel. After a very drunken anniversary night, Draco once more found himself pregnant, and their third son, Benjamin, had arrived a little early in the middle of the following summer.
They had decided three was more than enough, and they’d be far more careful in the future. Watching Blaise wrangle their eldest away from the Christmas tree, Draco had to grin. Life had been a series of ups and downs since Scorpius' birth. Draco could hardly believe it had been nearly nine years since he had come screaming into the world on a cold January day. He’d turned into a tall, handsome boy who could often be found in his room, head buried in a book, or chasing his brothers around the estate or dive-bombing the adults in the pool.
Nathanial was Scorp’s little shadow, always following behind his idolised older brother around. He was their little artist, and the fridge was in danger of collapsing under the weight of his drawings. Draco couldn’t help his sly smile at the huge art set that was under the tree, waiting for the boys to rip into it in the morning.
A dog’s bark and the sound of a small boy running, even though he had been told a hundred times not to run in the house, signified Benny’s arrival. The boy was animal mad, and at three he already owned a dog, two cats, a couple of rabbits which he’d taken to feeding and a huge fish-tank.
The house was rarely quiet these days, so at the soft kiss on his head, Draco looked up from where he was reclining on the lounge in the weak winter sun and smiled up at his husband.
“How are you feeling?” Theo asked, concern lacing his voice.
“I’m fine, stitches are a bit sore, but it was for the best,” Theo had to agree as he handed over their fourth and final son, two-month-old Timothy. They had decided at Timothy’s birth that Draco would be sterilised, as clearly by the baby that Theo was holding, being careful just wasn’t going to work for them.
At thirty-eight, Draco had enough of creating a family; he just wanted to sit back and watch them grow, to watch their magic develop, to send them off to Hogwarts, that thought already broke his heart, but it wasn’t the school he went to; it was safe now, and the best magical school in Britain.
Carefully sitting up, Draco stole their youngest son from his husband, smiling down at the now sleeping baby. Of all their boys, Timothy was the easiest. Right now, he had a full belly and was fresh from his bath.
Blaise and Theo had hardly let him lift a finger since he and Timothy had come home from the medi-clinic, which Draco was very grateful for. Most wizards only managed to carry one or two children; four was unheard of.
“Merry Christmas, Misters Zabini-Nott,” Draco whispered, pulling Theo and Blaise into a kiss.