A/N: Hi, folks! This is a little Dramionarry drabble I wrote. Why? Because I dreamed parts of it. This sounds crazy, I know! But...no but.
Rated M due to scenes of sexual nature.
Disclaimer: The characters aren't mine, and I'm not making profit with this thing.
Thank you to my awesome beta and friend, MrBenzedrine. She and LondonsLegend are true friends to me.
Hermione had just found the perfect position to fall asleep when the bedroom door opened.
The tapping of small feet hit the dark wooden floor, then - "There's a something in my room. A disgusting something." Hermione lifted her head from the pillow and looked at the child. The tiny blond boy addressed the room in general, voice small and fingers fidgeting with the hem of his Quidditch themed pajamas.
"It's alright, Scorp," she soothed her son. "How many legs?"
The six year old grinned, very reminiscent of his father, and ran back to his room.
"Eight!" he shouted about twenty seconds later.
"Eight means it's a spider," Hermione shouted back, ignoring the wincing sounds next to her. She nudged the half-asleep wizard to the left of her. "So, Harry, this is your show." The raven-haired Auror groaned but scrambled out of the bed after kissing the brunette on the cheek.
The blond on the other side of Hermione chuckled but opened one sleepy eye to ogle Harry's backside while he left the room.
They had a simple arrangement when it came to 'somethings' in Scorpius' room - up to eight legs: Draco; eight legs: Harry, because he was the most experienced with spiders, or so Scorp thought after listening to (child-adapted) stories of his parents' Hogwarts times; more than eight legs: Hermione. The latter category included caterpillars that only looked like they had more than eight legs.
Draco pulled Hermione closer to him, her back to his front. She sighed contentedly, engulfed in his warmth.
"Your son is such a Hufflepuff, you know?" she teased him.
He gently bit her earlobe as an answer. "He's also your son, by anything but blood."
"You're spoiling him the most! He's going to end up a pampered brat like you were!"
"That's not going to happen. By the way, the broom was Harry's idea, so you have him to blame for that. And you're spoiling Scorp with books and reading."
"Well, you know, despite sharing fifty percent of your genes, Scorpius is rather intelligent." Hermione didn't mention the other fifty percent of Scorp's inheritance, and that with good reason. Actually, it was one of the reasons Draco and Hermione had grown closer in the first place.
Astoria had tucked tail and run mere weeks after her son's birth, having fulfilled her part of the marriage contract by providing the Malfoy family with an heir. In his desperation, Draco had turned to his co-worker in the MLE for advice, Hermione Granger. The witch's heart had melted into a puddle upon seeing Draco holding his newborn, and even if she had close to no experience with handling babies, she had stepped through his Floo with a pile of books and Molly Weasley in tow. After Molly had left, Hermione had stayed, inexplicably drawn to Draco's caring and softer side adding to his usual wit and snark. One thing led to another, and soon enough, Hermione spent her nights at Malfoy Manor, helping Draco with his baby son and mending his broken soul.
Six months later, on a very rainy November night, Harry had knocked at the manor's doors, dripping, crying, and overall miserable. Without asking, Hermione had taken him inside, placed him in front of the fireplace, and handed him a hot cocoa. Shortly afterwards, Draco, clad only in his pajama trousers, had joined them, replaced the cocoa with firewhiskey, and got Harry talking. Ginny had left him after a hefty row, when the reality of what they wanted in their relationship came crashing down. Ginny wanted to play Quidditch, explore her career in that field; Harry wanted - craved a family of his own.
When Hermione came back from feeding Scorpius, the fussing infant still cuddling into her shoulder, she was greeted by an unusual sight: Draco held Harry in a tight embrace, murmuring gentle words of comfort into the other man's neck. Harry had his arms around Hermione's boyfriend, the fingers clinging desperately to Draco's naked skin. Hermione and Draco's eyes connected over Harry's shoulder, and what she saw in those grey depth caused warmth to spread in her heart and below her naval: adoration, love, and hope.
It was no secret to her that Draco had enjoyed exploring his sexuality with women and men in his youth, and she always teased him about his fixation on Harry in their school days, but this situation was different. It was raw, and intense, and new. With a broad smile on her lips, Hermione left two of the three most important men in her life to their own to take the littlest one back to the nursery.
Of course, Harry needed time to heal from his break up first, and he took that time, moving out of Grimmauld Place and into Malfoy Manor because he wanted to escape the memories of Ginny and him. Months went by, and the relationship between the three of them slowly morphed into something different.
And while it was ironic how easy it was between Harry and Draco to prolong the lingering touches, to change the sighs in their embraces to lusty moans, it was a wholly different thing between Harry and Hermione. It wasn't as if the possibility had never arisen to transform from friends to lovers, but they had clung to their friendship, erected firm walls between what was and what could be.
That was, until Hermione opened the bedroom door and found Draco on his knees in front of Harry, the latter sitting on the bed, head thrown back in ecstasy, as the blond between his legs had his lips wrapped around his cock. Hermione didn't feel betrayed; she and Draco talked about everything, and she knew there was more than enough love to make this work, to make a couple a triangle. But it took this situation to make something snap in her, to acknowledge her own sexual urges concerning Harry. Heat overcame her, and she stepped towards Harry, buried her hands in those messy black tresses and pulled him in for a passionate kiss. Harry's green eyes opened in shock at first, but then he grew aware of who was kissing him and groaned deeply. One hand around Hermione's neck, kissing back like there was no tomorrow, and the other sunk into blond hair, urging Draco on. Harry came seconds later with a feral, inhibited, and liberated moan.
That was five years ago. Naturally, there had been some whispers and rumours about the three of them together, but they simply ignored them. People could think and gossip all they wanted, as long as they were happy. Naturally, they fought. Mostly about common things - whether it really was necessary to take Scorpius into the dragon reserve at age three (Draco and Harry won against Hermione here), or if it was appropriate to send Lucius a Christmas card with the four of them to Azkaban (it was, Draco decided), or if Hermione really needed another ancient edition of Hogwarts: A History (of course, she did).
Scorpius called Draco 'Dad', Harry by his name, and Hermione 'Mum', even if he knew she wasn't the woman who had born him. She was always there for him, and thus, she was his mother. But in a temper tantrum, he had once declared that he was certain that Harry was his father by blood, because he would never chastise him for tripping Rose Weasley because the girl had called him 'geeky'.
Harry came back to the bedroom with a smile on his face.
"Did he go back to sleep?" Hermione asked.
"Yes, we brought the spider to the garden. When I asked him if he wanted me to stay with him, he declined."
"Really?" said Draco, surprised.
Harry grinned, raising his eyebrows dramatically. "Yes, because, apparently he's preparing to be a big brother soon, and big brothers sleep alone."
Draco gasped; Hermione groaned.
"Is there something you want to tell us?" The blond couldn't hide the excitement in his voice.
The witch shook her head vehemently, her curls bouncing wildly. "No. But Scorp must have overheard Pansy and me talking the other day. Apparently, Rose caught Pansy and Ron in the bedroom. While Pansy had a laughing fit, Ron explained to his daughter that they were exercising for the Adult Quidditch World Cup, and the prize would be a sibling for Rose."
Draco broke out in laughter then, but Harry only added to the fun by saying, "Scorpius told me that his Dads were the best players in the world, and thus, the two of them would win the Cup and a sibling for him."
"Child logic," the blond wizard commented while Harry climbed back into the bed, facing the other two. When he casually trailed his fingers over Hermione's thigh, her heartbeat accelerated considerably. Draco joined in the other side, and she wasn't only wide awake, but thoroughly aroused by then. Some wandless magic like a one-sided Silencing Charm to prevent an incident like in the Weasley household, and she could concentrate on what sensations the two men caused on her body.
"So, what do you think, Princess. Are we in for the World Cup?" Draco wanted to know, rubbing his fingers over her already slick folds in her knickers. Hermione nodded faintly. They had sporadically talked about having another child and how they wouldn't influence whether it would be Harry or Draco biologically fathering it. Maybe it was indeed a good time to start 'exercising' now.
Harry looked up from where his tongue had teased her nipple through her thin shirt and hoisted himself up to one arm. "You know I always beat you to the Snitch, Malfoy," he said, his voice husky and seductive. Hermione's loved that timbre.
Draco, without stopping to rub her clit, ended the teasing by leaning over Hermione's shoulder and silencing Harry with a kiss.