Harry spent the night in a cell, in the basement quarters of the Ministry's holding sector. Destiny was allowed to speak with him through a window. She pulled answers from him as she struggled to rework his case.

"We're going to have to come at this from a new angle. Tell me everything," she said without judgment, from her side of the glass. "You're going to have to tell them. Practice on me."

She stepped outside to take a call, then returned. "The trial will resume at 8 AM tomorrow. We can do this."

Harry tried to determine how angry she was, and whether or not she was really on his side now. Maybe she was restraining herself because she had always sensed that he and Draco were holding back information. Maybe she'd made excuses for them, telling herself it was the trauma, and as long as their story held together, she could represent them. She was smart and he was the hero. If she was deceived, it was because she'd allowed herself to be. She had tried to make it work, along with the rest of them. This is what he told himself, as he tried to trust her through all of his own self-hatred.

He talked in clipped sentences that were to the point, to keep emotion from bursting out of his chest. The pains were still there, so he took his time, fighting back the pressure.

When they were done, she told him, "I feel certain that you won't have to do more than six months, no matter what the sentencing. Draco's will be reduced as well. The truth is more horrific that anything they've heard so far. Trust me, you'll have some sympathy. It's time to let your secrets go. Tell all you can and let's end this."

After she'd gone, no other visitors were allowed to see him, not that he could tollerate anyone's presence right then. Instead, he stared at the floor from a seated position on the cell's bed. Between his feet, thoughts of letting Draco and Iece down, flooded his mind throughout the night. All of his triumph in finding Snape, was gone. All that effort and outcome felt insignificant compared to what he stood to lose.

When morning came, he was still in the same position.

He entered the courtroom in the same way he had left it, in handcuffs reinforced with magic. He suspected that he could get out of them if he wanted to, but now was not the time to give them anymore reason to find fault with him. The only person he cared about, he kept stealing glances at him, as much as possible, even as wizard cameras caught his concern on film. But Draco never met his eye directly and hardened his gaze ahead whenever Harry willed him to look. Other than that, Harry behaved, and when called, he took the stand.

Destiny did what she could to salvage their case, but it was obvious that Winston had them cornered by the lie they told. When he had Harry on the stand, he puffed out his chest and spoke with greater than usual arrogance. Self-satisfaction, at his own genius instincts, filled every syllable of his speech. He sneered as Harry swore to tell the truth under oath.

"Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, we've been told many things. Before I question Mr. Potter on all the shocking things heard yesterday, let's give him one more opportunity to set the record straight. Keep in mind, if he's telling the truth, he's only doing so now that he's been caught in the lie. It's not a volunteering of information. It's a last resort."

Harry could've hexed him with a thought right there, but restrained himself. No matter how Winston goaded him, he wasn't going to jeopardize his family anymore. Keeping his eyes away from anyone else's now, even Draco's, he began telling his story. His voice sounded heavy to his own ears, and he forced himself to talk through the weight of what he had to say. He was determined to make it as concise as possible.

"We'd been captured by Death Eaters, my friends and I, while we were on the run during the war. I've said as much before, and all of that leading up to the incident is true. The only thing I've ever held back, was what happened to me. It doesn't change the roles that anyone else played. It was my hell, and I couldn't face it. I was taken to the Malfoys. While they celebrated, with Voldemort present, I was tied and separated from my friends. We were all in a huge room. Like a ballroom. Lucius drug me to an area on the floor, prepared for spectators, with cushions and linens, that sort of thing. He'd already beaten me and hexed me to stay still. Voldemort sat with his bodyguards, with Narcissa, and with Draco, but it was easy to see that Draco was drugged and forced to watch. Later, he told me there was so many potions running through his system, he could barely focus on anyone else around him. It took all his concentration to hang onto the hope of getting his house elves to rescue us. His father…"

Harry couldn't say the words. He tried again. "Lucius stripped me. He did things to me. Inappropriate. Sexual. The worst. I won't say it, you can use your imagination."

Winston smirked, "I'm sorry, imagination doesn't hold up in a court of law. What exactly happened?"

"He did his worst," Harry repeated. The acid in his stare told everyone, that's all you're getting from me, you heartless perverts. You know exactly what I'm talking about.

Destiny interrupted. "May I remind the jury that Harry is under the supervision of a doctor for the trauma he suffered and is clinically incapable of withstanding the memory of that night? This is why his memories could not be retrieved from that night and used in the previous trial."

The judge allowed Harry to continue.

"I knew my friends were in the room, but I wasn't sure how much they could see. There were people everywhere, and they were restrained, the last I'd seen of them. All of it… was too humiliating for me. I suppose I shut the worst of it out because I know what he did, I just don't recall it with any clarity. I don't want to. I can't. I just know that, at some point, when it was over, I was hit with the curse. The Unbearable. They did it right there, for entertainment."

A part of him was back in that room, staring up at all the guests and their cold expressions, demanding that they find an ounce of decency and help him. No one helped him. No one could.

"To be honest, and I'm really being honest, I couldn't tell you what happened after that. I wasn't aware of anything but pain. I'm sure I blacked out. It's like my mind didn't record the worst of it. I have the feelings, but not the details. When I could open my eyes again, I felt sick. It was like returning to an inflamed body. Nothing felt right. I couldn't see very well and I couldn't scream. It hurt too much. I remember people bending over me, taking turns to look at me. Touching me. I have sensations that make me violent, from just remembering the way Lucius treated me. He did things, touched me, but I hurt all over and I didn't care anymore."

Absently, his right hand pulled at the fingers of his left. "I didn't fully grasp what all had happened, until weeks later, when Snape told me that there was going to be a baby."

Winston asked smugly, "A baby? Are you saying that you came away from that night, possessing female reproductive organs?"

"That's what the curse does. Yes."

"So your physical body is like Draco's"

"No. We're different. The curse affected each of us differently. Draco's, I found out later, was designed to work with his genetics. It was maintained for months, to keep his body and magic from trying to heal itself or circumvent the curse. Voldemort wanted him healthy before killing him. Mine was just the bottom of the barrel, a gamble. Voldemort expected me to die that night, so it didn't matter what the curse did to me, in his eyes."

"I see, what happened next?"

Harry thought about it. "It messed me up. I couldn't tell you anymore after that. I only know how we escaped because Draco told me, and my friends backed him up."

"Let me get this straight. You underwent the curse, have no memory of your sexual assault and no memory of your escape? And weeks later, you learn that you're pregnant with Lucius's child."

"Yes, that's right." Harry expected rude laughter, instigated by Winston's summary. If anything, the room got quieter. The silence felt like pressure to say things he simply couldn't make himself say. No one wanted to miss a word, and he took it as gluttonous curiosity. It wasn't about lies, and every one of these hypocritical onlookers knew it. This was about ripping his privacy and dignity away from him and lapping up every bit of juice it offered. No one could convince him otherwise. If Draco could endure it, then he had to find a way to be just as strong.

"Quite the soap opera, "Winston drawled.

"I didn't get up here to be insulted. I know I lied to people, and convinced Draco to do the same. But what do you say about an incident that is so painful, you can barely remember it? By the time the war was over and the trials began, everyone knew what Voldemort planned to have Lucius do to Draco, because of the incident at school. Draco nearly died when I… when he experienced sex for the first time under the curse. That was deliberately intended, so that Lucius could be blamed for his death once Voldemort ordered him to sleep with his son. That all came out in the trials. When it did, everyone assumed that the Malfoys were incestuous and Draco's reputation was already very damaged. We let everyone think that Iece was a result of Voldemort's cruelty. She was, just in a different way. I couldn't face it, and that was Draco's way of protecting me. We let everyone think that he was the one who got pregnant, but it was me. I was a coward for going along with it, but when I look back at that night, I don't see or feel anything that I can tell anyone. It's all pain, and pain doesn't hold up in court either. I took the easiest way out, and I'm sorry."

He looked at Draco. "I'm sorry that it came to this. I didn't mean to betray anyone's trust, and I certainly didn't mean to hurt us, Draco. You've been with me through everything, trying to make up for what your father did. I shouldn't have pulled you down with me. You let your whole reputation go down the drain for me and your sister. You sacrificed your name and your life for us. I want the world to know that you're nothing like your family, and you deserve respect. I'd like to see anyone else survive that curse and come out with their head held as high as yours. You've taken on the responsibility of keeping your sister safe and making sure she has a father in place of the one she'll never know. You've taken on a lot and now your freedom is at risk because you tried to protect me."

If the papers printed anything, he hoped they printed that. Maybe everyone would lighten up on Draco.

Harry turned to the jury. "I'm pleading for him and my daughter. Throw me in Azkaban if you want, but don't separate him and her. He's the only family who's going to treat her right, besides me. She needs him. She already thinks he's her father, because he takes such good care of her. Who else is going to cherish her and dote on her, knowing the disgusting details of what Lucius did that night, and what he's capable of? She's perfectly innocent. She can't help how she got here. Don't punish her by taking the only chance she has at a safe and loving life, away."

No one escaped the pull of Harry's plea. Some of the jury lowered their heads in an attempt to evade his insistence. Others were hooked, mesmerized by the honesty and emotion of this famous wizard, and could not look away.

He risked a little more. "Put yourself in our place. No matter how that night ended, we have a little girl to protect. Yeah, I lied. We lied, but how do you protect her from a scandal like that? You all think you're being righteous because no one's dug up your secrets, your pasts, or your weakest, most frightening moments. Yet mine are laid bare, and as much as people love the hero, Harry Potter, no one wants to be me right now. This trial is only dragging a perfectly wonderful child through the mud, and making an already difficult life, extremely hard for her in the long run, just by calling attention to where we, as a family, need privacy." He pressed his fingers to his chest.

"Please forgive the damage our lies have done, and let Draco continue to raise my daughter. Narcissa and Lucius are incapable of decency. They don't even speak that language. They're so blue-blooded, they don't know what it means to the rest of us. Please don't let them anywhere near Iece. Draco is a new generation. He stood up to his parents and even to Voldemort to save my life, and my friends. Factor that into what you've heard today."

"Interesting," Winston crossed his arms. "So this is why you tried to kill Lucius Malfoy. And why you, not Draco, are so vehement about keeping Narcissa away from Iece. Since we only have your word, questionable as it is, that Lucius, and I quote, did "the worst" to you, I'm going to propose a more realistic scenario. Yes, you did have the child. You will receive a court order to undergo medical examination to verify the state of your body. However, I don't think you were forced to do anything you didn't want to on the evening of the Death Eater party. I will even go so far as to say that you and Lucius had reached an agreement. Granted, you were the entertainment, but weeks prior to that night, Draco almost died because of you. As you glossed over, he had already been cursed long before you and while at school, the two of you began a sexual relationship. Correct?"

"I told everything about that in the first trials."

"I just want everyone here today to understand what that means. Draco's body had undergone a kind of metamorphosis, that changed his gender and made it rather convenient for you two to share the experience of so-called, first love. You had sex with him, while knowing that he'd been victimized by the curse. Then as a result, he almost died, due to deliberate complications build into the curse. In Voldemort's madness, Lucius was the one intended to 'trip the trap,' so to speak, as punishment for failing him. Draco was supposed to hemorrhage to death once Lucius followed orders to show unquestioning loyalty by sleeping with his own son."

Winston turned to the cringing faces of the public and shrugged. "We can't hope to know the workings of a sadistic, psychotic mind like that. There's no point in trying." He went on, "Lucius would then be left with grief and guilt, and no doubt the temptation to take his own life. One can only imagine what Voldemort was thinking, that entertained him so about all of this. The truth is, when Lucius got his hands on you, he was ready to turn on Voldemort. Your little school fling revealed the murder attempt on Draco. He hated you, but he knew that Voldemort hated you more, so he made a deal with you to save his son."

"What?"

"He plotted against Voldemort to free you and your friends if you would take Draco with you. You say that Draco risked his life to free all of you, but previous testimony revealed that you cooperated with Lucius to keep him and Draco from reenacting the exact same shenanigans that almost killed Draco at school. You agreed to the curse, and to the sex, in exchange for your freedom."

"That's a lie."

"Multiple witnesses came forth."

"Those were Death Eaters. They lied. Did any of them mention that I was…" He still couldn't say it. "… used like that? They were there. Did they talk about knowing who Iece's birth-father really was? They knew, and still they went to prison without telling you. That's because the truth was worse than their lies."

"Apparently, the truth was worse than your lies. You've been fooling everyone for years now. You and Draco were the only ones with knowledge of the full truth. No one who testified, saw you deliver that child. For all they knew, Draco could've done so. So how else could you have gotten yourself and all your friends, out of Voldemort's watchful eye that night?"

Harry stared incredulously. He couldn't speak.

"You were the guest of honor. His guards would've been all over the place. You yourself painted such a bleak picture of abuse and helplessness, one has to think that you got help from somewhere. Draco was too incognizant to mastermind an escape, so it must've been Lucius, a desperate father, caught up in a vile game of corruption and dark magic, against a psychopath, that he couldn't win. He made the deal with you. Dark, corrupt deeds in exchange for freedom. Voldemort would be satisfied, and Draco would stay alive. You agreed. Only, you didn't realize that Voldemort would order the curse upon you. You didn't quite agree to that, perhaps. Once done, you no longer had your faculties about you and you were nothing more than a plaything at the mercy of dark wizards. Granted, the curse was brutal, which is why things went blurry for you that night. You don't even remember making the deal that those wizards claimed you made."

Harry's nostrils flared. His lips were tight. "I would never make a deal like that."

"Not even to save Draco's life?"

"It wasn't even an option."

"How can you be sure if you don't remember?"

Destiny stood up. "Objection! Your Honor, the defense is goading my client. There's no basis for this line of questioning."

"Oh, there is. We have conflicting testimony. If Harry can't be sure of what was happening to his body at the time of the, ah, attack, then how do we know he was attacked at all? I'm merely showing the logical causation behind his survival. Lucius helped him. Their plan went to hell after the curse. It nearly killed Harry, even compromised his mental acuity. Doesn't he have a doctor who attests to this? He was too out of it to remember the damage done to him, but Lucius kept his word and he and Draco got away, along with their friends."

He slowed to make sure they were all following him, before carrying on.

"Harry, however, doesn't adapt to the curse nearly as well as Draco. He keeps it a secret. He's told of a pregnancy, something that is surely as traumatic for a young man to hear, as the evening itself. His agreement with Lucius proves to have cost him considerable mental stability, as well as his masculinity. And now there's an unfortunate, some would say, ungodly, creation on the way. How many women would go mad attempting to carry the child of the man they despised most in this world? How much more certain, would the madness of a man, in the same condition, be? He had a lot to hide during that time. His morals were clearly compromised by his capture and torture, as surely as they've been compromised for over two years since.

"The bottom line: he said and agreed to whatever he had to, to get his friends out alive that night. He had no idea the horrors that would follow such an agreement. His deal with the devil turned as foul as anything could. He was so disgusted by the part of Lucius growing inside of him, that he let everyone think it was Draco's problem. We all know that as pure fact. We can only assume the curse made it impossible for him to abort. Some life-threatening risk there, no doubt. Over time, that secret, and the shame of it, grew too bitter to hold. It takes a lot of energy to keep such intrinsically evil secrets, but Harry did his best. That is, until the child's unruly magic would no longer let him ignore the magnitude of his mistake in dealing with Lucius."

"You have no idea what you're talking about." It came out as a sneer. Sitting perfectly sill, Harry's heated eyes followed Winston's steps as they meandered through his accusations.

"He lost his dignity, his body, and as far as we know, his freedom to come and go with his masculinity unquestioned. He lost his spotless reputation as a hero, and gained life-long trauma, a problematic child who looks exactly like his enemy, and clinical anxiety from the burden of keeping so many secrets and telling so many lies. When he learned that his daughter was also affected by the curse, and their lives would never be free of it, he did indeed seek to kill Lucius Malfoy."

Rows of onlookers were united in shaking their heads against the absurdity of the accusations. And even more waited it out, hypnotized by the horrific logic in Winston's argument. Ron trembled in anger so hard, Hermione had to grip his hand. Arthur and Molly Weasely looked away in disgust, while their children flinched in the face of this unfair treatment. Narcissa put a gloved hand to her pearls and lowered her head.

Winston brought his argument home. "Harry tried to kill him, not because he and Draco were being stalked mercilessly. But because he could no longer live with the damning agreement made in a moment of desperation. That deal was that he used Voldemort's sickest demands to free his friends, then could no longer handle the resulting devastation to his life."

Winston turned to Harry. "Admit it. Yes, you were kidnapped by snatchers that night. But you bargained for your freedom. For everyone's freedom. You willingly agreed to sleep with Lucius to get all of you out of there."

"No." Harry shook his head, disbelieving that this wizard was not only saying these things, but being taken seriously by everyone in the room.

"In your naivete, you did not factor in a curse that would thrust you into hell for the rest of your life."

"No. You couldn't be more ridiculous."

"You thought you could survive a tasteless orgy, indulge the blue-bloods, as you called them, and wash it off later."

"You've twisted everything."

"We're all ready for this to end, Harry. Admit it. You hate Lucius so much, because you, yourself, gave into him. You listened to him, knowing what kind of a wizard he was. You created your own hell by cutting that deal. By having him and Voldemort trick you with the curse."

"No."

"You agreed to sleep with him to save Draco, and it was your undoing."

"No!" Harry shouted. "You're crazy!"

"You tried to kill Lucius because you can no longer live with what you allowed to happen to yourself."

"No!" His shout splintered the air. A gust of magic leaked from his anger, exploding around him. He shook as he screamed, "I didn't allow anything. I'd slit my fucking throat before I let that asshole touch me."

Winston took a step back. Onlookers jolted to a higher alert level. Something was happening. All felt it.

His words rushed out, feverish and fast. "I can't give you details because I can't speak anything that horrible, you prick! But I still feel it. For you to stand there and tell me I agreed to it, is the worst thing you could say to me. I've already admitted to trying to kill Lucius, you don't have to drag anything else out of me. And if I could, I'd still kill him for that night. I didn't let him do anything, he fucking took. He raped me. Are you happy? I said it."

He had, despising the emotions that came with it. The urge to punch, to hit, to destroy anything that provoked him, rushed to the surface. "He raped me!"

He yelled it again, over the submersion of nausea and shame. He yelled it, hanging onto the sound of his voice like a drowning victim holding onto a floating log. Feelings were welling up, overcoming him, more powerful than a tidal wave and he knew they were eclipsing his ability to reason. He pushed those words from his throat in an effort to push the whole thing away from him, but they brought shame, which brought anger, which brought the impossibility of ever changing that night and all that came of it. The sum total was helplessness and it scorched as it cracked through his screams. His vocal chords strained, scraping every ear in the courtroom.

What he didn't know, was that his magic escaped him. It projected out around him and went into the floor, the ceiling, and all the natural fibers. People bristled in their seats, not knowing what they were sensing, and some covered their ears against an unnatural amplification of his torment and his screams.

What he wanted to do most, to Winston, in that moment, was make him understand the wrong he'd just done. He wanted to force his emotional memories into Winston's mind, so that the wizard would seize in shock he'd never recover from, so that he'd know just how wrong he was to make Harry say those unforgivable words. The admission was the ultimate emasculation to him. If he never admitted it publicly, then he could keep outrunning it.

If he had to do this, then he would show what power really was, and how he was far from powerless. If he lost his respect as a man, in the eyes of others, then he would make them see that masculine pride was not synonymous with power. He'd hurt them. He'd hurt everyone who thought they had a right to see him humbled like this. If that made him a monster, so be it. If they thought him less than a man and a wizard, then let them also know that didn't mean he was going to let anyone fuck with him or mistreat his loved ones. He wasn't weak, just because he couldn't stop what Lucius had done.

All of this escaped him, bursting into the room through the least resistance possible. A small picture of water beside the judge, went white and spewed upwards as the glass shattered. The floor rumbled, cracking from it's sub-levels and everyone heard the buckle of wood and concrete popping beneath the carpet. Rows of seats were lifted, throwing people forward. Banisters splintered, as Harry's rage traveled along the veins deep inside preserved wood. Ceiling panels fell. Isolated screams of surprise, started a series of hysterics as people got up in pockets and tried to run all at once from their seats. Tables near the witness stand, cracked like firecrackers, spraying Winston with splinters that stuck in his skin.

Harry swiped his eyes to see through his tears. He knew he was causing chaos, but he didn't know how to stop it. Stopping it would've been like saying sorry, and he wasn't sorry.

Destiny and the Weasley's were calling out his name. Aurors were making their way through gusts of stray magic that pushed against them like wind, to get to him. He stared at Winston, as the wizard bent in pain. Blood streamed in thin rivulets, where six inch splinters stuck out of his face and hands.

Eventually, the aurors got to Harry and restrained him. He let them, still fuming from rage that wanted free. For everyone's safety, the courtroom cleared out and Harry was led away in binding cuffs.