Mentions of rape and domestic violence.

The courtroom was crowded once again. No one on the Wizengamot in recent memory could remember having such crowds at trials before. Even the Death Eater trials at the end of the last war had not drawn crowds, mainly because so many people had been so used to hunkering down and hiding that even venturing out for a trial had not been enough to entice people out of the safety of their homes.

Now though, after Barty Crouch Jr's trial this past summer, and the absolute scandal that had landed Barty Crouch Sr. in prison, people were coming out in droves for no other reason than to be nosy.

Of course, Percy reminded himself as he sat next to Minister Fudge in the courtroom, this wasn't a real trial. It was just the sentencing. It had taken weeks and three different lawyers, but eventually, Crouch had decided to plead guilty of all charges and forgo a trial. It was a huge relief to Percy because he did not want to have to take the witness stand and rehash what he and Lords Prince and Weasley had discovered at the Crouch house. Nor had he wanted to watch Barty Crouch Jr. have to take the witness stand and testify against the man.

Percy did not think he could ever get out of his head the picture of the man chained to the bed, naked and afraid. He also did not think he could ever forget what Barty looked like during his own trial, still afraid, and so frail and small in the defendant's chair.

Looking over the courtroom, Percy spotted Barty sitting in the gallery between Moody and Professor Snape. He idly wondered if the potion classes were cancelled for the day or if someone, like Headmaster Dumbledore, was covering the classes.

Gaze swinging towards the gathering Wizengamot members, Percy's eyes fell on Sirius who was holding court with several of the more neutral families. On the other side of the Wizengamot seats, Lord Malfoy held his own court with Parkinson, Nott, and a few others. High above, Prince, Weasley, and Lestrange were in a quiet conversation. Lord Doge was also speaking to a group around his chair, stalwart supporters of Dumbledore, many of them of the older generation.

Just before the clock struck the hour, signaling for the sentencing to begin, the courtroom doors opened, revealing one last Wizengamot member. The whole courtroom hushed in shock as Frank Longbottom made his way across the floor to his seat, a glistening walking cane clicking against the floor. The man's plum robes were brand new, and he held his head high, ignoring the gallery which was slowly beginning to whisper to each other. He greeted Sirius as he ascended to the Longbottom seat and sat, robes spilling around him like he was a king.

"I did not think he would come from Switzerland for this," Minister Fudge murmured to Percy. Percy nodded in agreement, though personally, he thought it made sense. The man being sentenced today had held Frank Longbottom's brother captive for twelve years, raping him over and over again during those years. If someone had hurt any of his siblings like that, Percy knew he would move heaven and earth to make sure justice was served. It was probably the fact that Frank was still in recovery that kept him from seeking an honor duel in place of the sentencing.

Percy watched Frank glance towards the gallery and share a nod with Barty. For a moment Percy wondered if Barty recognized him or Lords Prince and Weasley. The thought went away as Lord Greengrass banged his gavel and called for order.

Barty Crouch Sr. was brought in and shackled to the defendant's chair. The man, Percy thought, had certainly seen better days. He had been kept in the ministry holding cells which meant that he had not been exposed to dementors, but regardless, it was not a comfortable stay. Madam Bones had had to suspend several aurors for . . . meting out their own justice against the man, especially as the DMLE investigation had revealed that the abuses inflicted upon Barty had not begun after Crouch had snuck him out of Azkaban but had begun long before when he was a child.

No one was sure who exactly had spoken to The Daily Prophet. Madam Bones had stormed about the ministry after the paper had revealed all the gory details of the investigation and what Crouch was being charged with. However, a part of Percy wondered if it was not some strategic plan to ensure Crouch was forever discredited.

According to the newspaper, Crouch Sr. had been a "heavy-handed" husband (Oliver had rolled his eyes reading that), which had already been revealed during Barty's trial earlier this past summer. However, the report had continued, Crouch had not just beaten his wife and son, he had raped his wife throughout their marriage, eventually turning such violence onto Barty when the boy was a fifth year. That year, reported The Daily Prophet, was when Crouch had discovered that Barty was not his biological son.

It was all horrid, and Percy had had nightmares after reading the newspaper report. Sometimes he was watching Crouch harm his family, other times he dreamed he was a part of the family and being included in the abuse. Then other times he had dreamed that Barty had told the DMLE about Crouch abusing Percy and that the newspaper got hold of that information and published it as front-page news.

"Bartemius Crouch Senior," Lord Greengrass said, pulling Percy's attention out of his spiraling thoughts. "You are here to be sentenced for multiple charges of rape, false imprisonment, kidnapping, and physical assault. You have pled Guilty to all these charges and have written and signed a confession, witnessed by your lawyer Louise Tate, Madam Amelia Bones, and me. At this time, I would normally ask for a victim's statement, but Mr. Barty has already declined to speak."

Percy didn't blame him.

"The Wizengamot has come together for long hours to deliberate what your sentence should be," Lord Greengrass continued. Percy barely managed to hold in a snort. He had seen the Wizengamot go into the sealed chamber and come out in less than 45 minutes.

"On behalf of the Wizengamot," Lord Greengrass said, looking at a piece of parchment, as if he wanted to make sure he was saying the sentence correctly. "I offer you the choice of sentence."

Whispers erupted from the gallery. Percy glanced at Barty who was stone faced, but not at all shocked by the declaration. Moody didn't look surprised either, and Professor Snape's only change of face was a sharp look at Barty.

"Your choices are to be immediately presented to a dementor for the Kiss for all to witness," Lord Greengrass said, ignoring the whispers. "Or you may choose to stand like a man and fight to the death in a Duel of Honor."

More whispers filled the courtroom. Lord Greengrass did not even bother banging his gavel, allowing the tension to rise in the room. Percy could see sweat dripping down Crouch's forehead.

"And . . . who would I fight in the duel?" Crouch finally managed to ask. Lord Greengrass smiled, a sinister smile of glee and teeth.

"Who do you think?" the man asked.

All eyes turned to Frank Longbottom who continued to sit, reposed in his chair like a king, a vicious smile crossing his face that seemed out of place on the man's face.

"He's been out of the Janus Thickey Ward less than 6 months!" Minister Fudge whispered in shock. "I wouldn't be up for a duel."

Perhaps that was the difference between you and men like Frank Longbottom and Sirius Black, Percy thought. They had people to protect. People that they loved, people they were willing to burn the world for. He had no doubt that a lesser man would not be able to duel Crouch, even after months in prison, for Crouch had been the Head of the DMLE which meant he had been an auror in his younger days. And Percy knew Crouch's reflexes had . . . at least months ago . . . still been quite sharp.

"Well, what do you chose?" Lord Greengrass demanded as Crouch's lawyer leaned over to whisper in Crouch's ear. "Will you die a death by dementors, or will you die trying to bring some honor back to your family name, as little as it will mean."

Percy held his breath as did the whole courtroom. Crouch had been offered an honor duel. To refuse to fight it . . . well . . . it was a good thing his other choice was death. Still, Percy would rather die fighting in an honor duel than by a dementor's kiss. At least then no one could accuse him of dying a coward.

He almost thought Crouch would refuse the offer and die a coward. It would be like the man, who had spent most of last year ignoring his own failures and placing more and more responsibility on Percy's shoulders, all while stripping him of his dignity and safety and pride—

"Dementor."

A collective gasp went up from the gallery. Even Percy and Minister Fudge could not keep their own gasps in. Crouch stared resolutely at Lord Greengrass who only appeared mildly surprised. Even several members of the Wizengamot were astonished. Had none of them known Crouch at all? Had they not realized what kind of coward the man was in life?

"Is that your final decision, Mr. Crouch?" Lord Greengrass asked.

"It is," Crouch answered, still staring at the Chief Warlock.

"Then, as Chief Warlock of this esteemed body, I sentence you to death by execution by dementor." Lord Greengrass banged his gavel. Immediately aurors lined the front of the gallery, casting Patronuses. Several had corporeal Patronuses, though most were semi-corporeal and a few were only large shields of white light.

For a second, Percy was cheered by the thought that his little brother Ron could cast a fully corporeal Patronus without having taken his OWLs yet while aurors trained for advanced magics would not even produce a shape.

The smugness was gone in seconds when the door leading out of the courtroom flung open and a lone dementor was allowed in. Wizengamot members hurried to cast their own Patronuses as the temperature in the room dipped. Percy felt sorrow edge its way into his consciousness, but there were enough Patronuses in the courtroom that the sharper edge of sadness that he had experienced in seventh year when the dementors were around Hogwarts was not present.

The dementor swept closer to Crouch. His lawyer had already retreated to the safety of a nearby auror who was holding up a Patronus shield. Crouch's hands gripped the arms of the defendant chair tightly and Percy could see the whites of his eyes as the man watched the sinister creature approach him.

"Coward!"

Barty's voice suddenly rang out through the courtroom, startling everyone. He was one his feet, leaning over the side of the gallery. Moody had a restraining hand on one of his arms.

"You're just as much a coward in death as you were in life!" Barty shouted. "Coward!"

"Coward!" Someone else shouted from the gallery. "Coward!"

"Coward!" More voices rang out as the dementor stopped in front of Crouch. Percy held his breath as the creature bent over the man, the voices from the public growing louder and louder.

"Coward! Coward! COWARD!"

Crouch gave a sharp scream as the dementor landed its Kiss and then he slumped boneless and soulless in the chair. His eyes remained wide and fearful, even in death, his mouth gaped wide. The dementor, satisfied with the soul, swept out of the courtroom.

For nearly a minute no one moved or spoke. Silence hung over the room. Too many people were in shock. A Kiss was rare enough, most people had never seen one before.

Rustling robes broke the stillness. Frank Longbottom rose to his feet, leaning heavily on his walking stick.

"If that is all, ladies and gentlemen," he said, bowing slightly at Lord Greengrass. "I shall retire to my Wizengamot office where I am assured there is a bottle of champagne with Bartemius Longbottom's name on it."

Oliver's flat in Bournemouth was large for two people, but they had their friends over most nights of the week, so it ended up being a good thing. Now, though, Percy wished that his friends would leave and let him, and Oliver be.

Prudence, Tracey, Marcus, and Penny had descended upon the flat within an hour of him getting off work, Prudence leading the charge as always. Penny had brought take-out which made up for the disturbance in Percy's mind. And it was a rare day off for her, so he couldn't really complain that she wanted to hang out with them all now, could he?

But all his friends and Oliver wanted to do was rehash the whole Crouch sentencing and Percy . . . didn't. Ever since the he had left the courtroom, a weight had lifted from his shoulders, the weight of Crouch's presence. Yet, inexplicitly, another weight seemed to have descended upon him. One that Percy could not explain. He would have thought that, with Crouch dead, the burden of what had happened to him would lessen and he would be able to move on. Instead, it only seemed to become heavier.

"What a bloody coward," Prudence said as she reached for more pork gyoza. "I mean, if you're going to die, you might as well go out fighting. Have some kind of honor even in death."

"He had no honor in life," Marcus argued, "why would he want it in death?"

"I don't know! But you've got all those stories of wizards and witches living terrible dishonorable lives who don't turn away from an honor duel!" It was clear Prudence had been reading one too many novels again.

"Well, Crouch was always a weak man," Marcus stated firmly. "My family knew that for a long time. The Longbottoms aren't the only ones celebrating tonight."

"And yet you're here," Tracey pointed out.

"You're all much better company." Marcus replied, leaning against Penny's side. She slipped her hand into his and kissed his cheek.

"I think he means Penny is better company, but we shan't complain," Prudence cried, grabbing another spring roll.

Oliver, from where he sat next to Percy, slipped his hand into Percy's, mirroring Penny. Percy leaned his head on Oliver's shoulder, basking in the comforting warmth of his partner.

A knock interrupted whatever argument Marcus and Prudence had descended into. Percy waved Oliver to stay seated. He needed to move.

Arthur Weasley stood in the doorway. Percy stared at him. A vindictive, and tired, part of him wanted to just close the door without another word. But he remained frozen, unable to move and unable to speak. Arthur himself looked unsure at what to say for a minute.

"I wanted to make sure you were okay," Arthur finally said. "You looked a bit pale in the courtroom."

Percy stepped aside and Arthur slipped into the flat. From the sitting area where everyone congregating with the food, heads turned in their direction.

"Mr. Weasley!" Penny cried in greeting. She gripped Marcus' hand tighter as he attempted to pull it away. Bless Penny, thought Percy. His dad would be the last person to judge their relationship. Oliver narrowed his eyes at Arthur, but only briefly, as Percy glared at him to behave.

"Hiya, Mr. Weasley," Prudence greeted, reaching with her chopsticks to bring more pad see ew onto her plate.

"Hello, everyone," Arthur greeted warmly.

"We can talk in the bedroom," Percy said, gesturing down the short hall towards the bedroom he and Oliver shared. Arthur followed him and Percy closed the door behind them. Both were silent for a moment. Percy watched as his dad took in the neatly furnished bedroom. The bed that was clearly big enough for two people, the set of business robes hanging on the door of the wardrobe that Percy had hung when he had gotten home from work. Oliver's broom kit in the corner.

"I'm going to get straight to the point," Arthur stated, breaking the silence. Percy nearly sighed with relief. "I hope . . . I hope even with our recent disagreement . . . you feel you can still be honest with me, your dad."

Percy swallowed.

"I read the report in The Daily Prophet about Crouch's crimes," Arthur continued. "And I know . . . after you and your grandfather and Lord Prince found Barty . . . you said that Crouch never harmed you . . ."

Percy felt his stomach twist painfully. In the initial questioning directly after Barty was discovered, Madam Bones had had to ask Percy a lot of questions about his time as Crouch's assistant and how often he had had to take work to Crouch's home. What had he seen? Heard? How often did he hear the poltergeist? Had Crouch ever hurt him?

Percy had answered truthfully in everything, except for that last question. Yet he was certain, based on the long look Madam Bones had leveled at him, that she had known he was lying. But she had not pressed. Neither had his parents when they had asked him. Molly had sighed with relief and made Percy his favorite dinner and Oliver's favorite dessert (after she had made Percy invite Oliver to dinner). Arthur had embraced Percy before disappearing to decompress in his shed. Percy had almost followed him, having taken refuge in his father's shed many times before, but had decided to retreat to his bedroom instead.

Now . . . he suspected what his dad was going ask. And he wasn't sure he could lie to his dad's face again.

". . . but I'm going to ask you again, Percy, and I want . . . I want the truth. If it's the same as last time, I'll except it and never ask again . . . but . . . the way you looked in the courtroom . . ." Arthur took a deep breath.

"Did Crouch hurt you like he hurt Barty?"

Percy willed his mouth to move to say 'no', to deny everything, but his mouth would not cooperate. Instead, his bottom lip began to quiver, and his mouth jerked downwards into a frown. He ducked his head, feeling the tight hold on his emotions beginning to loosen, and the tears starting to prick at his eyes, burning them.

"Percy?"

The tears escaped and rolled down his cheeks. Arthur's face morphed between looks of sorrow and horror, thankfully settling on sorrow. Percy nodded.

"Oh, Percy." Arthur stepped forward, gently cupping Percy's cheek in a warm hand.

The dam burst.

A sob escaped Percy, a deep guttural sob from the depths of his chest. He buried his face in Arthur's neck like he was a toddler who had skinned his knee. His father's comforting arms wrapped around him, holding him securely as Arthur began to rock back and forth.

The bedroom door opened. Percy yanked out of Arthur's grasp, wide eyes meeting Oliver's worried ones. Gods, what was he going to say to Oliver? Would Oliver even want him around once he found the truth?

"I'm sorry," Percy cried, sobs still shaking through his body. "I'm sorry, Ollie. I've ruined everything."

"Percy," Arthur murmured.

"Crouch hurt you, didn't he?" Oliver questioned. Percy slapped a hand over his mouth as another sob escaped.

"I'm sorry," he said again, stumbling backwards as Oliver stepped closer. "I'm sorry, I didn't want it. I didn't want it I swear! He just . . . I just . . ." he buried his face in his hands. "I lied to you . . . all those times . . . I'm sorry . . . so sorry . . ."

Oliver gently wrapped his arms around Percy, but Percy could not lift his face from his hands. How could Oliver stand to look at him now that he knew the truth? He had been right all those months ago, Percy had cheated on him. He had cheated on sweet, beautiful Oliver who deserved someone better than Dumbledore and Crouch's used up slut.

"Look at me Percy," Oliver murmured. Percy shook his head.

"I'm sorry," Percy kept repeating. "I didn't want it . . . he made me . . . he made me . . ."

"I know," Oliver murmured. "I know you didn't want it, babe."

Percy looked up.

"I didn't cheat on you," he insisted. "I didn't. I swear. I didn't want it!"

Something fluttered across Oliver's face. His eyes seemed to age a hundred years. Oliver struggled to speak for a moment before he simply pressed a kiss to Percy's forehead.

Hours later Percy and Oliver lay in the dark, hands entwined. The only light came from the soft floating orb near the door which acted as a nightlight. Ever since he had moved into Oliver's flat, ever since Crouch's abuse had started really, Percy had found it difficult to sleep in a fully dark room. Oliver had not said a thing when Percy had first started using the light orb, for which he was grateful, though Percy had known Oliver had been confused by it as he had not needed such a thing at Hogwarts.

Arthur had stayed for a few hours after Percy had confessed to him and Oliver what Crouch had done. Had kept a steady hand on Percy's shoulder as he went out and told Prudence, Tracey, Penny, and Marcus about Crouch. Prudence had, of course, cursed the dead man to the heavens and back. Marcus had almost cracked his glass of beer his grip was so tight. Penny had, unsurprisingly, cried. Tracey, ever the pragmatist, had gotten everyone tissues and Percy a glass of water and had asked if Percy would tell Madam Bones.

Absolutely not. Crouch was dead. There was no need to rehash such things. Percy just wanted to forget it had ever happened.

"Percy?"

Oliver's voice was soft. Hesitant. Percy turned his face towards his partner.

"What?"

"I . . . I assume the reason why you're . . . not really into having sex is because of Crouch . . ." Oliver turned his face towards Percy. "But you were . . . you were like that in school too. I know I'm not as smart as you. I can be slow—,"

"You're not slow, Ollie."

"—but did . . . did someone hurt you at Hogwarts too?"

Percy looked at the ceiling, his fingers curling tighter around Oliver's hand.

"Yes," he whispered. "Someone hurt me at Hogwarts."

"Will you tell me who it was?"

Percy ran his thumb over Oliver's knuckles, feeling how strong his hands were from years of Quidditch playing. Familiar fear rose up in his chest, threatening to choke him. Crouch was pittance compared to Dumbledore, the Defeater of Grindelwald, even with the continued vendetta between Dumbledore and Fudge. Umbridge's arrest had not helped matters in Fudge's camp and Percy could see some tide turning in favor of Dumbledore once again.

"No," he finally whispered. "I won't."