Title: The Only Constant

By: literaryspell

Beta: Krystle Lynne

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and I make no money from the writing of this fiction.

Pairings: Hermione/Draco/Lucius and all permutations thereof.

Warnings: Explicit sex, het, slash, incest, double penetration. Anything extreme will be warned for per chapter.

Summary: A year after the triad marries, they find life together is not exactly simple. Things are still changing--but is it for the better? Draco's feelings for his father are intensifying, and what Lucius wants is complicated, too. How will they make it together without falling apart?

Author's Note: This story is a sequel to the completed fic i Some Things Change. As such, it might not make sense without having read that first. This story will contain details of a consensual father/son relationship. There are many things in fiction that I disagree with in real life, and I'm sure my readers are the same. Please keep in mind this is fiction.

I hope to maintain a weekly posting schedule—every Tuesday. Also, this fic will be posted on my livejournal (literaryspell) for those who'd prefer to follow there. It is easiest for me to respond to reviews/comments there—feel free to friend or just read, as it won't be friendslocked.

Huge thanks to keppiehed for being my amazing firstreader and friend. This fic is dedicated to you!

The only thing constant in life is change.


One year after the events of Some Things Change…

"You have got to be kidding me, Granger." Unbelievable. And yet so typical.

"It's my money, Draco. I'm allowed to do whatever I want with it. That's what we said in the beginning. Your income is yours, Lucius' is his, and mine is mine."

"Exactly, it's yours. So why are you giving it away?" Draco exclaimed. Six damned months and he'd never even realised she'd been funnelling her income right back into Outreach, keeping only enough to purchase new clothes and the like every now and then.

"What do I need it for? You and your father are perfectly content to take care of everything, aren't you? I'm not even allowed to help out at all."

"What, do you think we need help with the mortgage or something? Here's a hint—there isn't one and never has been! Malfoy Manor was built—"

"—By house-elves under Malfoy employ eighteen million years ago, I know. You didn't purchase it like some common person, right? I've heard the story, Draco. It doesn't matter. If I can't help out here, I want to use my money to help those who need it. You don't even have a right to be telling me what to do!"

Draco's mouth opened and he was this close to telling her what he thought about that when Lucius groaned and rolled over.

"Draco, enough. I have to be at work in two hours. She's absolutely right and you know it. It is her money. Why are you so opposed to this?"

Draco tried not to pout. His father usually sided with him, Malfoy minds thinking alike. "I don't know. It just seems wrong. She's basically working for free!"

"We're lucky Outreach even makes enough money for us to take a salary, Draco," Hermione said softly, reaching out and curling her arms around his neck. It was still very early morning and he couldn't see her clearly, but he knew her face like he knew his own. She was currently smiling in a placating sort of way, eyebrows drawn a little together in hopes that he would accept what she was saying.

Yes, he knew her very well. But that didn't change the fact that he didn't bloody understand her.

"Whatever," he said, knowing he was being sullen and bratty and not caring. "I just think you should be a little greedy for once in your life. You work for a charity—hell, you founded the charity! Haven't you given enough?"

"Your father gives me an allowance, Draco! An allowance! Like I'm eight! I could never want for anything here—I couldn't spend the allowance if I shopped for eight hours a day, every day. What are you worried about? That if this doesn't work out, I'll be penniless? Well, I won't be. Sorry, Lucius, I wasn't going to tell you this, but I haven't even touched that allowance. In the year that I've been given it, I've saved enough to live off of for years. So I'll do what I bloody well please with my own income, thank you very much!"

Now she was panting, Draco could very clearly hear it. He could also sense his father's smirk, which annoyed him to no end.

Hermione climbed over Draco gracelessly, landing hard on the floor beside him with a huff. She dressed in the dark, and Draco only hoped that her clothes at least matched. "I have a meeting with Thello on the Wolfsbane trials. I'll be home in a few hours. Lucius, have a good day at work. Draco… Ugh."

She stomped out of the room.

"Well, Draco?" Lucius voice was amused.

"I know, all right?" Draco threw on his dressing robe and ran after Hermione, not pleased with the turn of events but knowing waking her up to ask about the Outreach donations that suspiciously matched her own paycheques hadn't been the best idea. He'd intended to wait until morning, or even dinner, but he'd slept poorly and didn't want to be the only one awake and cranky—not that he'd ever admit that.

"Hermione!" he called.

She paused at the bottom of the stairs and waited for him, arms crossed over her chest.

"I'm sorry, all right? It really isn't any of my business. And I didn't know you weren't spending the allowance. I guess I just thought… because my mother…"

"I'm not Narcissa. I won't spend your family's money just because I married into it. Lucius won't take it back, but I'm keeping it for our kids, or else the donations would probably be even larger."

"It's your family, too," Draco said, deeming it safe to take her into his arms. She was stiff at first, but resistance was futile against the Malfoy charm. She melted into him, and he held her tightly against his chest.

"I know… It's just been a huge adjustment. I know it makes Lucius feel better to give me that money, but I don't like it. And because I can't and wouldn't tell you two what to do with your money, I don't appreciate it when you try to do that to me."

"I understand. And I know you're simply being the good person you are. I guess I just want to see you happy, you know? I want you to be able to buy nice things and not worry about the cost, or get your hair done or something. Pamper yourself."

"Are you saying my hair needs help?" But she was smiling.

Draco shook his head. He loved that crazy nest. He did hope she planned on brushing it before she went out, however. But he didn't dare say that.

"I do pamper myself, Draco. Or rather, I let you and your father do it because it seems to make you both happy. But I've never been interested in that sort of stuff. It's fun, but only when it's rare. It becomes a chore, otherwise. And I know that my donations help make a difference. I know some of it goes to Thello's research, and that helps werewolves, and that's more important than manicures and deep pore cleansing."

"You're not wrong," he conceded. "Though gaping pores are very unsightly."

"Draco!" Hermione smacked his arm, but he grabbed her hand and pulled her in again.

"Go to your meeting. I won't say anything else about what you do with your money."


"On my honour. But I expect the same from you. You can't tell me not to spend money on you, and that goes for my father, as well."

Hermione frowned before apparently deciding it was the best deal she was going to get. "Fine. Go back to bed."

"Love you," he whispered, kissing her still-pouting lips.

"Love you, too. And tell Lucius I love him, too." She kissed him again. "And that's for him."

"See you soon."

Crawling back into bed after being awake wasn't exactly a chore. He still had a few hours of sleep owed to him, and he planned on collecting on that debt.

"You know," Lucius drawled as Draco climbed under the duvet. "When we agreed to this bed-sharing arrangement, I wasn't informed of your penchant for starting fights while certain people are still sleeping."

Draco laughed. "And I wasn't informed that you are a colossal blanket hog, but have I said anything?"

"Only every single night for over a year."

"Well, we all have our quirks." Draco tugged pointedly at the blanket, and Lucius relinquished a few more inches.

"Still, I wish you didn't fight so."

"It's perfectly healthy to argue, Father. It's not fighting. It's just how we work things out. And you can't act like the two of you haven't had matches I could sell tickets to. And Merlin knows you and I bicker. So what's the problem?"

Lucius turned onto his side, facing Draco. His face was serious, but Draco was struck by his eyes. He was concerned; Draco hadn't realised the argument had warranted that much consideration.

"I worry, sometimes, that…"

"That?" Draco prompted. It wasn't like his father to hesitate.

"That you'll push her away when you try to control her life like that."

"I'm not trying to control her!" he objected immediately. But he wasn't unaware of how the argument would have looked to an outsider. "All right, you're right. I pushed her too hard. But she's not upset with me. It was just a tiff."

Lucius nodded, seeming content to drop it. Grey dawn light filtered in through the crack in the curtains, lighting his father's eyes as the sun peaked behind Draco's back.

"She said to say she loves you," Draco whispered. He liked the warmth his father's face took on at the words. He leaned over and kissed Lucius—very lightly, barely a brush—on the lips and said, "That was from her, too."

Draco couldn't look at the shock that was undoubtedly painting his father's features. He closed his eyes and just… tried not to think about it.

Because the kiss hadn't really been from Hermione at all.


"Oh, stop, stop!" Hermione cried, smacking the crushed sage from Draco's hand.

Draco looked at the mess and gave a baleful glare to his wife, unimpressed.

"Don't you look at me like that, Draco Granger!" Despite her scolding tone, Hermione's wide smirk elicited one of his own.

The last name challenge had come down to I will if you will, which essentially meant that neither would. Hermione kept her last name, Draco and Lucius theirs, and it was a running joke between all of them, though Draco knew it was something of a sore point for his father.

"You were about to put sage—sage!—in Wolfsbane. Don't even get me started on the utter ridiculousness of that, seeing as how all the ingredients were right in front of you and you had to actually go out of your way to get sage. What is going on with you?"

Suddenly the sage mess looked a lot less annoying when compared to the disaster that would have come from tainting the huge vat of Wolfsbane.

He dropped his head into his hands. "I don't know. I've been feeling like crap for weeks. I can't focus, I can't concentrate, I'm irritable—don't say it!" he added quickly, warding off Hermione's agreement.

"Maybe you're pregnant," she offered, a fount of aide in troubled times.

"Well, at least Father would be pleased," Draco quipped, but the look on Hermione's face made him regret his thoughtless words. "I didn't mean that. You know he understands. You're still young."

Hermione propped her hip against the table and stirred the potion. They were using the lab attached to Michael's apothecary. Thello usually didn't let them back there without his supervision, but he was delivering the potion to those who couldn't make it to the shop. The week before the full moon was pure hell as far as brewing went. The demand was increasing every month, but Thello refused to hire help, so it was the three of them with Michael's well-meaning but inadequate assistance, and it just wasn't enough.

"I know he understands, but he doesn't like it. I want to have a family, I do. I just want us to enjoy our marriage first."

"Do you think we won't enjoy it once we have kids?"

"That's not it. It's just that a family dynamic is different than a marriage dynamic. Our focus won't be on each other any longer."

"I'd never thought I'd hear you worried about not getting enough attention," Draco joked, dodging the ladle that flew at him.

"Maybe I'm worried about how my poor little blonds will bear it," she retorted with a haughty look.

"Us blonds will stick together, don't you worry. And the kids will be blond as well, so maybe you're afraid of being left out."

Even though it was a joke, Hermione's tight smile revealed more than her words, even sincerely spoken, could.

"Oh, love," he crooned, pulling her against him. "You know it'll never be like that. You're the head of this triad, after all."

"But Draco… I don't think it's supposed to be like that. All points of the triad should be connected."

Draco pulled away, not looking at her. "That's a pretty fancy way for saying you think my father and I should fuck."

"Do you have to be so crude?" she chided, wincing.

It made him smile. The things she said and did in their bedroom would shock the most twisted pervert, and yet in the baring light of day, she had trouble even saying curse words.

"Yes. It is crude. It's crude and wrong and it can't happen."

Hermione hummed and stirred the pot—and not metaphorically, for once. The Wolfsbane took their attention for a while, but it wasn't long before she started up again, a variation on the theme she'd been harping on for almost six months when he'd first told her about the dream.

He should have known that was where she'd planned on going next.

"Did you sleep well last night?" Her voice was deceptively sweet. She was lucky he loved her so damn much, or he might have given her a smack—on the arse, of course—to shut her up.

Actually, there was no reason he couldn't do that anyway. But the timing didn't seem right.

"You know I didn't, so you might as well just say it."

"You dreamt about the other man again, didn't you? I wish you would pull your head from your admittedly fine arse and just admit it's Lucius."

"And what if it is?" he cried, frustration getting the better of him. The kiss he'd given Lucius was weighing heavily on his mind. He almost felt like he'd cheated on Hermione, even though she'd probably be thrilled to hear it, the kinky bint. "He's my father."

"Yes, and you're married to him! You are, Draco. Maybe not in the eyes of British law, but in spirit, and in magic, you are."

He hated when Hermione brought that up. He knew it; there was no need to dwell on it. He loved his father. But it wasn't how he loved Hermione. He didn't want it to be… he was pretty sure.

Draco rubbed his eyes wearily and sighed. The fumes always got to him around this time of day. The potion was starting to smoke, which signalled its near-completion.

"Go home," Hermione said, leaving the potion to wrap her arms around his waist.

He held her against him. She was so soft, so supple and sweet-smelling. It would be strange to be held by a man like that. Not his father, just any man. Strong arms folding him against a hard body. No breasts to press against, no flaring hips to grip. Someone as tall as him, but broader. Firm lips forcing him to bend, to take the kiss instead of give it.

Draco'd never really thought of his relationship with Hermione in terms of giving and taking, but he supposed she really was in the passive position. She wasn't submissive, exactly, but she did let them do pretty much whatever they wanted. And they wanted a lot.

When it came to being with a man, would he be passive or active? He tried to imagine it. Him pushing a man onto a bed. Crawling over his fit form, straddling him. Holding him down. That was dominant, wasn't it? He'd then make the man feel good… those thoughts were more abstract… and then he'd bury his hands in long, blond hair and lower himself onto the man's thick, steel cock…

"Oh, fuck."


After his rather startling revelations, Draco had agreed to go home. He was of no use to Hermione, especially after he'd confessed the kiss to her and she'd become nearly incoherent in his presence. She'd said she couldn't concentrate with him there, and he wasn't exactly in the mood to argue.

Now he was sitting in his room—their room—and thinking about why things in his life always had to be so fucked.

Follow his father blindly into service to a madman? Check.

Nearly kill the headmaster and indirectly cause the deaths and maiming of his schoolmates? Unfortunately, check.

Hide like a scared little first year while the heroes fought and won the war? Yeah, that too.

Fall in love with possibly the only person besides Potter for whom he'd felt real acrimony for almost a decade? Why the hell not.

Marry his father? He was so fucked up.

And now… He's realised three things. He wasn't sure which shocked and horrified him most, but they all tumbled together in a big mass of shock and horror so he didn't really need to choose.

First, he was sort of all right with the idea of being with a man.

Second, he wasn't entirely opposed to the idea of taking it up the arse from said man.

Third, and yes, definitely worst, there was a part of him that very much wanted the man—whose cock would be up his arse, lest we forget—to be his fucking father.

"I thought I heard someone Apparate in."

Draco looked up at Lucius, who was leaning against the doorjamb, looking at Draco with concern.

"Sorry, I wasn't in the mood to go through the door the old fashioned way."

Lucius sat on the bed and put his arm across Draco's shoulders, unaware of the turmoil that raged inside his normally unflappable son. "Did you have another fight with Hermione?"

"You make it sound like we fight all the time," Draco snapped, projecting his anger and knowing it.

"I'm just trying to make sure everything is all right with you, Son."

Oh, Merlin, don't call me Son in that voice when I want to kiss you. That is so wrong.

"I'm a little… confused," Draco admitted. He couldn't say why, but he always felt better after talking to his father. He liked the safeness he felt with Lucius, the way it seemed like he could take care of everything, that Draco could just let him be the adult.

Lucius' hand squeezed his shoulder. "What's the problem?"

Dropping his head into his hands, Draco groaned. "I've been having… strange dreams. And… feelings." That was probably enough information—Lucius could just do his fatherly magic and make him feel better now.

"When did the dreams start?"

That was something Draco didn't even like to admit to himself. "Since before Hermione," he mumbled. That was how they divided their lives. Pre-war, during war, post-war, and Hermione.

"And the feelings?"

"More recently."

Lucius nodded, his hair, so familiar, brushed Draco's shoulder. He turned to look at it, entranced by how it was so like his own. The action brought his face close to Lucius', much closer than he'd like. Closer than was safe. Normal.

"What are the dreams about, Draco?" Lucius said very quietly in the tone of a person who knew exactly what the dreams were about.

Draco opened his mouth to tell him, Lucius would understand. He was Draco's father, he—

He was Draco's father.

"I can't do this," he blurted and ran from the room.