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Smut Warning: I don't really believe in warnings like this, because if you've read the last 30k words you're probably not going to be surprised… but yeah, there is some boysex in this chapter.

So, to the hundred or so of you who are subscribed to this story, please enjoy the final chapter (for now.)

Part Eight: Beginnings

After Granger left, Draco rolled himself back up to his room. He'd just managed to settle himself back on the bed when he heard a light knock on the door.

"What?" he called, imagining that Weasley and Granger had decided to come back. He immediately regretted his tone, though, when he saw Teddy's face peeking through the crack in the door.

"Teddy?" he said, struggling to prop himself up onto his elbow. "Are you ok?"

Teddy nodded and smile shyly. "Dad's not home yet, can I come in?"

"Of course," Draco nodded. Teddy beamed and then immediately walked in and climbed onto the bed. Draco reached over and used the panel to tilt the bed up and help him sit. Teddy scooted over to lean against the propped up bed next to him.

"I'm sorry we won't be able to play Quidditch together," Draco finally said quietly, hoping that the bitterness he'd been feeling all week wasn't so easy to hear in his voice.

"What? Oh, that's ok! We can still play exploding snap, though, right?" Teddy asked brightly.

"Yes," Draco chuckled. "Although if you insist on winning all the time I'll have to teach you to play chess, instead," he said.

At that, Teddy's eyebrows shot up and he fairly leapt off of the bed, and up the stairs to his attic room and then back down in a whirl of energy and colour, leaping back onto the bed with a thump and thrusting a large flat leather box into Draco's lap as he sat cross-legged on the foot of the bed.

Draco was too bewildered to do anything but open the box, gasping as the flap opened to reveal a wizard's chess set. It had been years since he'd played proper wizard's chess. The board lay at the bottom of the box, and the pieces were mingling in a corner. Two of the bishops were in the middle of a brawl, but Teddy reached in and separated them.

"Dad refuses to play with me," Teddy explained, "because he says Uncle Ron has made me too good at it and it's no fun to lose all the time."

"Weasley?" Draco raised an eyebrow sceptically.

"Mmm hmm," Teddy nodded enthusiastically as he started unpacking the set from the box, laying the board out between them so that it rested on Draco's outstretched legs. "He's the best, he can beat anyone," he stated matter-of-factly, Draco rolled his eyes but refrained from comment. "You don't like Uncle Ron much, do you?" Teddy asked suddenly, though he didn't sound particularly bothered.

"Not especially," Draco smiled.

"I do," Teddy answered firmly, but there wasn't any judgement in it.

Draco nodded. "So does your dad," he said, and as he helped to place the little wiggling figurines onto the board.

"Yeah, but not, you know, like like, though, cause Uncle Ron's with Aunt Hermione," Teddy said seriously, as though Draco might not know that.

"Yes, I know," he affirmed, breaking up a fight between two tiny knights and placing them on their respective sides of the board.

Teddy turned to him and caught him in a piercing gaze, his eyes suddenly the same green as his father's, and asked, "do you like like my dad?"

Draco almost sputtered, but recovered quickly enough, and evaded the question, asking instead, "Why do you ask?"

"Cause he like likes you," Teddy answered with alarming conviction. Almost enough to believe.

"How do you know?" Draco asked, before he could stop himself.

"He told me," Teddy said simply, setting down the castle that was wriggling in his grasp.

"When?" Draco asked, trying to sound casual.

"On Sunday morning, while he was making French toast," he answered. Ah, of course. Back when there was still hope.

"Oh, not again!" Teddy said exasperatedly and Draco looked down to see the two knights who had just been fighting had now left their horses and were rolling around making out in the middle of the board. "They do this every time!" he said giggling, as Draco reached out and pulled them apart. The black knight glared at him and stormed back toward his horse, the white knight stood there watching him wistfully before turning around and going back to his own side of the board.

"Yes, well, things have changed since Sunday," Draco sighed, placing the white Queen and King side by side, where they immediately and obnoxiously linked arms.

Teddy nodded solemnly. "You don't like him anymore," he said.

"No…" Draco started, but Teddy interrupted him.

"You don't like him because he couldn't fix your legs."

"No… but I don't see how we can be together if I'm... like this…" Draco answered quietly.

Teddy cocked his head to the side and frowned at him. "I don't think Dad really cares."

"I'm pretty sure he does…"

Teddy seemed to feel that sentiment warranted a hug, and he leaned across the chess board to hug Draco, completely disrupting the entire table. Draco allowed himself to lean into the embrace for just a moment before he shrugged the boy off with a plastered-on smile and a ruffle of his hair and they set about rearranging the board again.

Teddy and Draco had each won a round and were trying to break the tie when the floo sounded downstairs and Potter's voice called up to them, "takeaway!"

"Wicked!" Teddy called back in answer, and grinned broadly at Draco before leaping off the bed and thundering down the stairs.

Draco debated about following him, but eventually his hunger overcame his embarrassment, and he decided he might as well go down there. Maybe Potter would be less likely to yell at him if Teddy was in the room.

No sooner had he slipped into his chair, though, did Potter knock on the doorjamb and step into the room carrying a tray with several white boxes of Chinese takeaway. The vinegar in the sweet and sour sauce wafted over and Draco found his mouth watering already. Potter conjured a little table in front of Draco's chair and pulled up a chair for himself on the other side. Draco reached out and pulled over the box of sweet and sour pork and scooped some into a box of rice. Potter handed him a pair of chopsticks, and he broke them apart and ran them back and forth against each other to brush off all the splinters before grasping them and beginning to eat. Potter, meanwhile, helped himself to the chow mein.

"So..." Potter began, "I heard about this afternoon."

Draco swallowed a mouthful and braced himself for the humiliation. "I'm sorry," he said dejectedly, "Teddy… he shouldn't have had to see that…"

"No, he shouldn't have," Potter nodded. "I would rather my son never see someone he knows and cares about getting pissed in the middle of the day. I'd rather he never find someone lying facedown in their own blood. It's not only dangerous for you, you know. You're living with a kid, now. You ought to be setting a better example."

Draco felt too guilty to even defend himself. "I'm sorry," he offered weakly.

Potter nodded. "Ron said you were a right git," he chuckled. Draco scowled but refrained from comment. Potter put down his food and cocked his head to the side, before adding, "they both seem to think you're still crazy about me, though…" he said.

Draco tried not to blush, and settled for hiding behind his box of take-out and omitting a more-or-less dignified "hmpf." For some reason, that just made Potter chuckle again.

They sat quietly eating a few more minutes before Potter spoke again, his voice surprisingly soft. "Draco… what happened last night?"

Draco tensed, and forced out a stiff, "I don't know."

"I thought… I thought you didn't want me. All week you've been avoiding me. And then you pull me into the bed and then… what happened?"

"I'm sorry. I wanted to but then… it was too much…" Draco broke off, because he didn't know how to explain it.

"Were you scared?" Potter asked quietly, and Draco didn't answer, although he felt his face glowing red in affirmation.

"I just… I hate being so powerless…" Draco confessed bitterly, turning away.

"I'm sorry," Potter offered, sounding sincere.

"It's not your fault… I just… there are so many things I can't do anymore… so it's probably stupid to care about any one thing… but… I don't know… it used to be different," he said, looking up and willing Potter to understand.

Potter raised a sly eyebrow, "you used to top more…" Draco choked on his food, but nodded. "So… what's stopping you?" Potter asked, batting his lashes absurdly, and Draco rolled his eyes.

But Potter was not to be dissuaded, apparently. "Look, what you would do if you could stand up out of that chair right now?" he asked. Draco sighed and thought he should probably stop this right now, but a sudden pleasant swelling in his crotch was interfering with his better judgement at the moment.

"I would bend you over the nearest available surface and fuck you into next month," he said dryly, but was thrilled to see the flash of fire in Potter's eyes.

"I might take you up on that later," he said quietly.

Draco shook his head. "How can you even see me like that after…" he started, his face already blushing, "I mean, you have to change my sheets like a bloody child, how can you still…?"

Potter shrugged but remained silent, and Draco wanted to hit himself for spoiling everything, like he always does, by bringing up all the many good reasons for Potter not to want him.

But at length, Potter answered him. "Ginny snores, you know. Worse than Ron." Draco blinked. "Plus, her feet smell," Potter added, as though an afterthought.

Draco looked at him, frowning. "I fail to see your point."

"All of this," Potter waved his hand in the vicinity of the chair, and the bed, and the loo behind him, "it's just like snoring or smelly feet, it's just part of what makes you… human."

Draco hmpfed into his rice.

Potter sighed and sought out his eyes, "you're not perfect, Draco, but you know what? You probably never were," Draco made an affronted noise, but Potter just rolled his eyes. "No one is. It's just not as easy for you to hide it any more."

"Indeed," he answered ruefully.

"But knowing that… this…" he waved in the direction of Draco's legs now, "it doesn't change the way I feel… the way I've always felt. Maybe it's just harder for you to accept now."

They ate the rest of their meal in companionable silence before Potter excused himself to see Teddy off to bed with a quiet, "goodnight."

They didn't meet again until Friday night. Draco heard them leaving in a rush of pounding feet and slamming doors, but didn't get up until much later. He did not, however, return to the library liquor cabinet.

Potter didn't come home until late in the evening, and Teddy never came home at all. "Sleepover at a Muggle friend's house," Potter explained. "Had to pick him up and bring him a new dose of his suppressant. Have you eaten?"

They had pasta in the kitchen, Draco reading the Prophet and Potter reviewing case files. It was all very… domestic… Draco thought. And that seemed like a good thing, for some reason.

Potter excused himself after levitating the dishes into the sink, and Draco sat downstairs a little while longer, gazing around the kitchen, and marvelling at how at home he felt after only a couple of weeks here. Sighing, he decided to head up to bed.

Back in his room, he changed into a t-shirt and shorts to sleep, brushed his teeth, washed his face. He was just about to close the door and go to sleep when he stopped himself. Across the hall he could see Potter's bedroom door stood half-open.

He rolled out into the hallway. He could hear running water and the sounds of brushing teeth.

Through the open door Draco could see the room: it was a blue and white replica of Draco's own. A blue and white Persian rug, dark wood furniture, drapes that matched the bed hangings. Candles in Dutch-looking porcelain sconces on the walls lit the room in a soft glow.

On impulse, he rolled himself through the door a little, and called out, "Potter?"

He heard a loud spit and rinse and then the tap turned off and Potter stepped into view wiping his mouth with a washcloth and smiling. He sat down on his large, four-poster bed. He was in an undershirt and still wearing his trousers from work.

"Come in," he nodded, and Draco rolled a little closer.

To his enormous surprise, the bed suddenly shortened, and the bedside table with it, just like the kitchen table and chairs always did.

Draco raised an eyebrow, "you had an adjustment charm put on your bed?"

Potter blushed beautifully and shrugged, "wishful thinking, I guess…"

"Oh really? Wishing for what, exactly?" Draco asked, backing away from the bed and trying to look incredulous through his own blush.

Potter shrugged again, and swallowed, apparently summoning his courage. "I seem to recall something about bending me over the nearest available surface…?" he asked, and Draco watched as he stood up and turned around, bending over the edge of the bed. "How's this?" he asked, turning around to look at Draco through his messy brown bangs.

"At this point I'd probably order you to take your trousers off," Draco smirked.

Surprisingly, Potter promptly, almost hurriedly, obeyed. Draco watched him fumbling with his belt buckles and buttons before dropping them to his ankles.

"Shorts, too," he drawled, and thought he might have seen Potter shiver before he hooked his thumbs into the elastic and slipped his boxer shorts down to his ankles, too. His bottom, pale and soft, lay exposed in the soft light of the bedroom.

Draco's mouth was suddenly very dry. And he was also unbelievably hard. And Potter… he could hear that Potter's breathing had become shallow, too.

He wheeled closer. "Open yourself up, let me see …" he said in an imperious tone, and he watched as Potter shivered, unmistakeably this time, and reached back to pull the soft mounds of his bottom apart and expose his waiting entrance. Draco watched the blue spark of a cleaning charm pass over the exposed flesh and knew Potter was already reading his mind.

"Wider," he said, his voice hoarse, and Potter whimpered and he widened his stance, stretching himself apart. "Look at you," Draco breathed… "spread out for me… I could do anything to you…" he growled.

"Ohgodsyes," Potter whimpered.

Draco wheeled himself closer still, and reached out to replace Potter's hands with his own, kneading the soft flesh and spreading him wide. He leaned in to exhale a long, hot breath on the tender ring of muscle. Potter whined. Draco kissed the shallow dimples of his lower back, then began to flick and nibble his way slowly, tortuously slowly, down, down, down… but stopped before he reached the quivering pucker spread out in front of him.

Potter released a pathetic little, "please…"

Draco smirked, and then dragged his tongue in broad, wet strokes over the exposed flesh in front of him, pressing but never breaching him, pausing now and then to puff cold air or draw tantalizing circles with the pointed tip of his tongue.

Potter writhed, and pleaded, and pressed back against him, until Draco pulled away entirely, slipping the fingers of his right hand into his mouth,

He drew them out, wet, and pressed them against Potter's twitching entrance, with enough pressure to be tantalizing. Potter whimpered hoarsely, "please… Draco please, please, gods I need it…"

Draco slipped first one, then two fingers in and Potter began to move against him, meeting his thrusting hand. Without his missing fingers, Draco was able to bury the remaining two down past the knuckle, and Potter groaned when he crooked them just right.

Potter was panting now, and rutting against the edge of the bed, his cock trapped in front of him, and he started begging, "Draco… I need to… oh gods" he practically sobbed, "I need to come now please, please, please…"

A brilliantly bright rush of power surged straight to Draco's own aching erection, and he answered silkily, "alright… come for me, Harry."

Potter reached around to stroke himself and almost instantly came, the walls around Draco's fingers rippling and sending him into such a state of desperate arousal that even knowing he couldn't do this quite the way he wanted to couldn't spoil it.

Potter collapsed against the bed, panting, and Draco started to pull open his shorts to bring himself off, but then Potter turned around, his eyes gleaming with something frighteningly, thrillingly fierce, and in a single, graceful swoop he lifted Draco up out of the chair and onto the bed, and stepped out of his trousers before climbing up and straddling him.

Draco pulled him in for a bruising kiss and reached down to stroke himself but Potter swatted his hand away. "I want you inside me," he whispered, the hot breath against Draco neck sending shivers down his spine. His fingers were running up under Draco's t-shirt and brushing over his skin. Draco moaned and arched into the touch.

Potter pulled the shirt up over his head and sank down to lick and bite a nipple. "I want you to fuck me, Draco," he growled, grinding his already-spent cock against Draco straining erection. All Draco could do was nod, dazed.

Potter moved off of him just long enough to tug Draco's boxer shorts off, and pull off his own shirt, before settling over him again.

And then, suddenly, a flood of liquid warmth coated his cock and Draco reached down and held the base firmly in place as Potter lowered himself slowly onto him. Dear gods why hadn't he thought of this? Potter was so bloody tight and oh gods Draco had thought he would never have this again and fuck was it good. Potter was settling himself now, pulling him in slowly, and Draco allowed it, reaching back to arrange the pillows so that he could sit up enough to comfortably watch.

And then Potter grabbed his hands, and placed them on his own hips. "You're in control," he said, and Draco nodded, and began to lift him up and down slowly, very slowly. Potter groaned, rising and falling perfectly at Draco's command, obeying the pressure from his hands as he moved him faster and faster, driving his cock ever deeper into that tight hot channel. At some point he adjusted the angle, twisting Potters hips slightly, and Potter cried out, his face wearing something like surprise, and Draco saw that Potter was hard again, jutting out at him, red and swollen and perfect.

The sight of Potter riding him, head thrown back, strong muscular thighs gripping his torso, cock hard and aching… it was perfect. He could feel his climax coiling down inside him, rising slowly, and he reached out to stroke Potter's cock, and Potter cried out again, and impaled himself frantically. One, two, three strokes and Draco felt the walls around him spasm as hot jets spurted out onto his stomach, and he felt himself rolling over the edge at he emptied himself into Potter… Harry… who rode him through his climax.

When his sensitive and dwindling cock could take no more, he reached out and stilled Potter's hips, and the man collapsed on top of him, a warm blanket of sweating skin. Eventually, though, he slipped off to the side, cast cleaning charms on both of them, and muttered a quiet nox to extinguish the candles. Then he lay back down, wrapping his arms and legs possessively around Draco, his face nestling into Draco's neck.

Draco breathed in the smell of sweat and sex and a hint of old parchment, and relished the rough scratch of stubble against his shoulder where Potter had settled himself, before drifting into sleep.

He woke the next morning somewhat disoriented. He was… in Potter's bed? Yes… and Potter was lying next to him… actually more like on top of him, his leg thrown over both of Draco's, one arm wrapped around his waist, face buried in Draco's shoulder, drooling slightly. Draco smiled at the knowledge that Potter, perfect Potter, drools. It seemed only fair.

He hadn't had any nightmares that he could remember. A handful of dreams, perhaps, the echoes of which still floated by in his mind's eye, but no nightmares.

He closed his eyes and debated the likelihood that he would be able to go back to sleep. No… he had to pee, of course, and it couldn't wait. He nudged Potter in the ribs gently.

"Mmmm" Potter protested, snuggling more tightly.

"Potter, I have to go,"

"Stay," Potter mumbled into his neck.

"No… I mean, I have to go. I have to pee…"

Potter grumbled and made as though to get up, but instead just held out a hand to catch the urinal that came flying in from the other room. He handed it to Draco, but otherwise seemed content to just remain where he was, under the covers, wrapped around him.

"You must be joking."

"No," Potter shook his head against Draco's neck, and the stubble sent a shiver down Draco's spine that really didn't help the whole needing-to-pee thing at all. "I'm using it when you're done," Potter went on, "it's way too bloody cold in this house anyway and I'm cosy under here."

"I am not peeing in this thing with you lying right next to me."

"Then go in the bed and I'll clean it up later. It's your choice, but I'm not moving, it's like seven in the bloody morning, and Teddy's not even here." He sighed. "Look, I'll go first, ok?"

He rolled over, snatched the urinal, fiddled under the covers, and then lay back on the pillow. A loud echoing stream gushed and then faded to a trickle, and Potter let out a contented sigh. Then he reached for his wand on the nightstand and vanished the contents, and handed it back to Draco.

Draco held the thing and thought about whether he could summon the serenity to just let go and… go… right next to Potter, of all people. He closed his eyes, took a few calming breaths, and tried to relax. It seemed like an eternity, a horribly embarrassing eternity before he felt the first spurt… and then a flood released itself, and he felt his whole body relaxing into the bed as his bladder emptied itself, the stream fading into a trickle and then stopping. Potter vanished the contents and tossed the jar onto the bedside table and wrapped himself around Draco again, settling his face back into Draco's neck.

Draco sighed and squeezed his eyes shut, willing it never to end.

"Wuvooo" Potter mumbled into his throat.

"Hmm?"

Potter moved to free his mouth from Draco's neck long enough to whisper into his ear, "I love you," before turning back.

Through the thumping in his chest Draco managed to whisper back, "I love you, too."

~Fin~

A happy (but not perfect) ending for Draco. Yay.

However: I'm considering writing a sequel (after I have a little break to work on other projects :) Anyway, leave me a note if you think our favourite duo should team up to solve the case and figure out who attacked Draco and why. This was not meant to be a detective fiction, but I could conceive of writing one with these two. Paralysed!Draco needs a new job, after all. Plus, Potter will have to deal with outing himself once and for all, Teddy has to start school, Draco will face persecution as an ex-DE, and he still doesn't have a wand. And there are still so many unanswered questions...

So, leave me a note if you want a sequel. Cheers!

Responses to Your Comments:

Yukiko-Angel: Thank you, glad you've enjoyed it so far.

Va Vonne: Thank you!

Denise0949: I'm glad you liked the Ron and Hermione scene. They often get left out or depicted as unsupportive, but I don't buy that. Ron, for example, is fiercely loyal, no way would be he unsupportive of Harry's relationship, even if it is with Draco.

Kitty: Thank you! I've struggled with this Draco, whose obviously not the same boy he was when he was younger, but still needs to have enough pride and anger to be in character.

Justlookingforupdates: Glad you like it!

AcadianProud: I completely agree.

lauren49ERS: Thank you! Yes it had to get bad before it could get better, though.

blackcurrent: I think he has finally figured that out now.

followthedark: I really wanted this appeal to people who don't already love disability fics, so I'm glad you like it.

Serpent91: Forgive the annoying doubt/angst, but hopefully the resolution was satisfying.

GacTheDestroyer: Oh I'm so glad you've enjoyed it.

AlineDaryen: Why, thank you!

Reiko Katsura: Thank you so much. I'm glad you've enjoyed it. It's a challenge to keep Draco IC, especially since he's clearly already been through a lot, and made a lot of changes. But that doesn't stop him from being proud and stubborn. I hope this ending has helped to dull your pain, get well soon!