A/N: Who's a proud papa? Voldemort's a proud papa! (Also, yes, I did say it was just going to be a three part fic but I've decided that fluff deserves more...so more it shall be.)
Ternion of Trouble
When Hermione came waddling out of her appointment ten shades paler than she had been going in and her husband with a self-satisfied smile ten times wider than she'd ever seen it, she was sure she'd landed in some alternate universe. Somewhere where she was being sufficiently punished for the decisions she'd made to alter her path to walk through the valley of shadows and roll up to knock on the door to the Devil's flat. She had been certain she'd already paid her most unpleasant dues but, as her husband, the Dark Lord-of-the-Shit-Eating-Grin, guided her along the streets toward the covert entryway into The Ministry and she goggled down at the sonogram of her BABIES, she realized she was sadly mistaken.
"Triplets, Hermione. TRIPLETS. Three!" Voldemort barked out a laugh that could only have belonged to one of those disgustingly proud fathers. "And here we were surprised to conceive at all, but three!"
"Yes," Hermione groaned. "I heard you the first thousand times you said it."
He ignored her grouchy disposition and huffed out another laugh. Rubbing affectionate circles between her shoulder blades, he pressed a kiss to her temple and murmured in her ear, "I've got to have another pair of cribs made. And expand the nursery." He straightened, his cheek still brushing fondly against hers even as he walked them through the Muggle streets and pondered further renovations aloud. "Shall we have a separate room for the boy and one for the girls? Or will they just share the one?"
Hermione's glazed eyes were still stuck on the fuzzy images of her unborn children, though it wouldn't have mattered as he simply continued on.
"We'll need to just rethink the colours of the one perhaps. I believe they may be too bold for two girls even if our son is in the mix. I shall have to change the wallpaper—"
"NO!" Hermione said, suddenly aware and wholly opposed to the thought of him pestering her with MORE wallpaper suggestions. She startled the disturbingly still human looking Dark Lord and he was so taken aback by her outburst that he even stopped to look at her with a quizzically raised brow. Her cheeks pinked and she shook her head, trying to pretend that the few Muggles nearby weren't looking at the pair of them rather oddly. "I mean…" She began more quietly, "I believe the wallpaper is perfect for all three of our children, Tom."
Voldemort looked at her skeptically. "You don't think it is too bold? They are the Slytherin family colours after all. I was thinking something with more…pink for their side of the room? Something rose coloured perhaps to compliment a fluffy pink Pygmy Puff for each of the girls?"
She was all at once caught up in a huff over the very suggestion. A bit of her righteous energy swelled and spread into her limbs enough that her hip now jutted to one side and she'd taken up a very stern stance. One fist was balled up and on that sassy tilted pelvis and the other had taken to prodding him right in his sternum. "I won't have you gender typing our children with ridiculous wallpaper ideas or preposterously pink pets and stuffies, Tom Riddle! You hear me right now! The current colours, the furniture, even the bloody snake mobile you've already put up are as fine for girls as they are boys! You will not be spending more of your eerily sleepless nights waffling about papers and colours – the room remains the SAME!"
Voldemort blinked at her with a handful of long, slow blinks before his lips curled upwards once more in a sly smile. "Of course you are right, my wife. Of course you are always right," he purred and pecked her on the nose. "Slytherin colours it shall remain."
This time Hermione's mouth popped open, shocked at how easily she'd just been bamboozled and he wrangled her into the shelter of his arm once more to resume their walk to The Ministry.