I have finally finished this chapter sorry for the wait everyone, but luckily this chapter does have our first sightings of the Order and Draco's pov. This chapter in particular please remember that there are clear changes from cannon. Voldemort rose to power a different way and so different people died. On that note the child named Aimee (thanks for the name Az) is actually Victorie but because they did not win in this world she does not have the same name.

Unfortunately the next chapter may also be a long wait for.

Potter?

The intense smell of sea salt was the first thing that engulfed Draco's senses as he returned to consciousness. His back ached a little from lying on the hard rock cliff, but the true pain was flaring in his stomach like his insides had been blasted apart. He moaned quietly and a second later he felt the pain begin to dull.

"Are you alright Draco?" A scratchy voice gently called from nearby. At the sound Draco opened his eyes.

Rodolphus knelt on the ground beside him, his hands and robes stained with blood. For a moment Draco stared at the mottled red skin of his Uncle's hands barely registering the blood as Draco's own.

It all came back to him; a loud shriek of insane laughter, a flash of green light he could not avoid, an intense stabbing pain in his stomach... then nothing. He had thought it was over; a green light from the wand of Bellatrix Lestrange meant death.

Certainly it had for Severus and Gregory, but somehow for him it had not.

Draco shuddered despite himself. He avoided his Uncle's uneasy attempt at a comforting glance and stared at the scene around him. Rabastan was crouched on the ground a few feet away, his eyes closed in an attempt to compose himself. Macnair stood behind him and watched carefully as if assessing that he was alright. Yaxley stood the farthest away on the edge of the cliff, his hawk-like eyes examining the scene with interest. Draco continued to look around as he pulled himself into a seated position. They appeared to be on a cliff top with nothing but a small cottage a few yards away. It was a simple wooden home with a chimney billowing smoke and a roof covered in shells. It could be seen as quaint, but Draco was too used to his own elaborate manor to view it with nothing less than contempt.

But where was his father? He gazed at the scene again, but he did not spot the man he desperately sought. He looked at his Uncle and his blue eyes displayed a twinge of sadness. Did that mean...

No! It could not. His Father was probably just doing something important, maybe with Mother? He was being ridiculous, of course his father was fine.

Draco was interrupted from his musings by a cry of warning from Yaxley who had noticed something. Draco looked at him before his eyes darted in the direction Yaxley was indicating. There were people hesitatingly emerging from the cottage and walking down the small path lined with sea shells. From this distance, and after all that had happened, it took Draco a moment to register who they were. The other Death Eaters did not have the same hesitation. Yaxley darted back from the cliff and joined their group, Rodolphus rushed over to his little brother to protect him, Rabastan shakily found his feet with the help of his brother's shoulder and Macnair snarled and raised his wand.

But Draco was too shocked to do anything other than hesitantly stagger into an upright position and stare in shock. He had not seen most of these people in years. He spotted former Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws who seemed to have finally picked a side. There were four former teachers: McGonagall, her face more intimidating than any day Draco had forgotten his homework; goblin sized Flitwick who Draco just remembered was a duelling champion; Sprout, still with a plump frame and flyaway hair under her witch's hat; and the werewolf Lupin, shabby as always with a baby in one arm. A pink haired woman stood close behind him and shielding a slightly older turquoise haired boy. There were others he did not recognise including a tall woman with straight brown hair, a strong jaw and high cheek bones who looked slightly familiar. His eyes also picked out six red haired figures including Ginny Weasley (the only female Weasley), one twin, and his year mate Ron Weasley, yet Draco could not see either of the parents. But what his eyes were glued to was the young man who led them.

Harry Potter strode at the front; his black hair as messy as ever and his bright green eyes behind the familiar round spectacles. Ron and Ginny Weasley walked at his side as well as the Mudblood Granger with her busy brown hair. His old teachers along with some of the other adults and Weasleys were striding close behind, but many stayed back unsure what to do.

Why was Potter here with such a group? Why did Severus tell his father and Rodolphus to come here were Potter was? Unless...

Rodolphus seemed to have considered the same thing and the word 'traitor' formed on his thin lips.

The group from the cottage suddenly stopped at a small picket fence and Draco thought that it might be where the wards ended. They all looked as shocked to see the ex-Death Eaters as Draco felt to see them.

"What are you doing here?" cried Potter as Draco and his group cautiously drew closer. The Death Eaters were aware how outnumbered they were.

"We were told to come here Potter. Apparently that lovely cottage over there is a safe house of sorts, but obviously it was a trap set up by Snape who is clearly nothing more than a traitor," spat Rodolphus from the front of the group. He appeared to have taken charge and had formed his own opinion of the circumstances. Draco was hesitant to believe it; he had gone through so much with his former professor that he could not stomach the thought of accusing him of being a traitor. At least not straight away.

"Snape?" hissed Ron Weasley from the front of the group, surprise imprinted on his freckled face. Many of his group had similar expressions except Granger had a deep look in her eyes and turned her head to Potter.

"But Harry they are the ones who killed Voldemort," she murmured softly but loud enough for Draco to overhear. "What if Professor Snape thought that we could co-operate with them? You know how horrible it is now in the ministry."

Shouts of outrage greeted her words from both sides.

"Why would we join with mudbloods and blood traitors?" snapped Macnair from Draco's right. While Ginny Weasley objected similarly, "Why would we join with Death Eaters?"

Each side stayed quiet for a few moments considering their next move. Draco felt an arm grasp his shoulder and he turned to face Rodolphus whose was gripping him tightly.

"We can apparate to Portsmouth I know some place safe we can get to from there."

Potter and his group did nothing but watch as they prepared to leave. Draco assumed that it was only because they had killed the Dark Lord that the Order did not attack them.

With a twirl of their robes and a loud crack they disaparated hopeful to a place they could find salvation.

Harry's mind was racing like it was speeding after a snitch. What in the world had just happened? Snape told Death Eaters to come here? They had got that close to Shell Cottage?

Part of him wanted to turn to Hermione, Remus or someone else, like he had done when he was younger, and ask for advice. But another part knew he could not. They would not know anything more than he did. He needed to step up, he needed to grow up and take charge for once in his life.

No-one had heard from Snape in months, he had just disappeared. One day they were celebrating successfully using a hair Snape had acquired to steal a horcrux from Bellatrix's vault and the next moment- he was gone.

Snape was not someone Harry had considered a friend but...

He was just not sure what to think. Snape had been someone he had despised throughout most of his time had Hogwarts. But since then he had been told so many snippets of his past that it was not hard to see his honour, bravery and loyalty. He seemed so much more than the man he had though he had known as a teenager.

The last time he had heard anything about him was when Percy had come running into Shell Cottage and informed them that Lucius Malfoy and Snape had announced that they had killed Voldemort.

Even now he was not sure how to feel about Voldemort's death. Of course he was thrilled and relived. How could he not be? He was just so confused about how it had happened. It was not honourable that Death Eaters had done it and in some ways it was darn right cowardly. Instead he knew he should have done it, Voldemort was the one who had killed his parents after all. Now he could not really believe what had happened even if the facts were clear.

But it was not over, Harry was determined that he would take care of Bellatrix himself and not step aside and let another people do his job.

"The enemy of my enemy is my friend," murmured Hermione softly next to him while she considered her own words.

"They are Death Eaters Hermione!" snapped Ron who took offense immediately glaring at his girlfriend. "Death Eaters were the ones who killed..."

Besides him Harry saw Ginny flinch and look down to control her emotions. Harry leant over and squeezed her hand, gently stroking her soft skin. She looked up at him and smiled sadly. Harry felt the loss of Mr and Mrs Weasley, they all did, but he knew he had to try and act strong.

"But Ron we need to do something and if we both want to take down the ministry perhaps it would be best if we worked together," Hermione continued though her voice wavered. She was clearly unsure about what she was saying.

"No way," roared George for the first time speaking up. His right ear was missing but it was his left side that did not look quite right, where everyone knew someone else should stand. "They are monsters. You don't understand you did not lose any of your family!"

That was the problem, the Weasleys now could never side with anyone associated with the Death Eaters, they were too heartbroken. Harry watched as Percy stepped close to George and wrapped his arm around his brother's shoulders, neither cried but both of their eyes were filled with water. Hermione opened her mouth to say something else, but Harry stepped closer to the group first. What they needed was information not to be arguing with each other. Luckily there was one person who could help them with getting that information.

"Mrs Tonks," he called to the tall brown haired woman who stood near her daughter, son-in-law and grandchildren. She looked at him at once curiously. Andromeda Tonks was someone who had avoided picking a side in both wars. But now her daughter had put herself in danger and Death Eaters had already murdered her husband. "Did you know any of them?"

Andromeda did not answer immediately and Harry realised she would have to be uncomfortable talking about her past. He felt guilty, even more so when he felt the glares of the older Weasley brothers for even considering siding with Death Eaters. But he needed to know what he was dealing with.

He thought that was what Dumbledore would have done.

"I know a few of them. Rabastan Lestrange was in my year at Hogwarts, even then he was always fascinated by the Dart Arts and blood purity like any good pureblood. He will basically follow whatever Rodolphus does. Rodolphus was always a little quiet, always thinking about his next move, but he was as vicious as his wife-"she paused her already hesitant speech. Talking about her old acquaintances was uncomfortable but talking about her family was practically a taboo. "I do not know why he would have turned against the Dark Lord, it is certainly odd. Macnair was a year above me and he had a reputation of practicing his curses on people's pets. You already know Draco Malfoy and the man I only know from the Prophet as Yaxley."

Harry nodded in understanding and murmured his thanks. He could somewhat understand Malfoy's change of heart after what he had witnessed atop the Astronomy Tower so long ago; a pale face, a shacking hand, a lowered wand. But the rest did not seem to be like that, they likely only killed Voldemort for their own means. Why should he trust people like that?

"Bill," Harry called to the long haired and scarred Weasley brother who stood next to Fleur. Bill looked up at him and his ears were twinged with pink from anger. "Would you be able to check that the wards are still in place?"

"Of course," he answered and handed the sleeping Aimee into Fleaur's arms (who was already holding their son Louis), before he moved to the fence.

"Maybe we should head back inside. Percy, you can continue to tell us about what happened at the ministry the other day when the crowd got violent," Harry called loudly to everyone else. The others nodded and followed his instructions and moving inside.

It was an odd position to be in, the leader of people who he normally looked up to, but he knew he had to step up.

He would not let them down.

Darkness was attempting to descend on the richly designed office, beaten away only by the fire that roared in the hearth and the two candles that lit a parchment laden desk. Bella's dark eyes focused on the elegant hand writing in front of her before she moved the parchment to the growing pile on the floor by her chair. Without pause she pulled another scroll to her from the bundle on the desk. She had always admired her master's meticulous nature, but currently she was exhausted by the sheer volumes of work he had produced.

Bella had been toiling through her Lord's work for the past month, every night without fail. That was on top of the mess that she had to clean up at the Ministry: Dozens of speeches to reassure the public, promoting those who were deserving, evicting the canker that diseased the departments and filling out yards of paperwork. Antonin and other loyal Death Eaters had been working too, but still she had never been busier in her life. Bella was immensely grateful of that, the distraction was appreciated.

Her dark eyes traced each stroke of the long, cursive handwriting. She had been good, she thought, she had kept reasonably composed. The only time her composure had really splinted was when she had first travelled to her Master's home to gather some paperwork that they needed at the ministry. She had entered the uninhibited house and had walked up to his office. With a simple turn of her wrist she had opened the door. Bella had stared into the darkened room for only a moment before she fell to her knees and collapsed on the floor. For hours she had laid there wailing to a darkened house. Her Master always warded his study carefully, but the wards now had fallen away. Such a little thing had cracked the ice around her heart.

She let out a small yawn and her eyes that read the documentation felt weary. Carefully she finished the scroll and added it to the finished pile, before she rose to her feet. She stretched her back and walked out of the room, leaving house elves to douse the lights.

Every night Bella battled against sleep, she had never despised it so much as now. Those moments when her mind was free to wander were too painful. She sighed and instead of walking downstairs to leave the house, she took the stairs that went up a floor.

It was not something she had planned, but now it had become a nightly ritual. It had begun the first night after she had finished her work when she had been unable to fight the urge to examine her Master's empty bedroom. The scene that greeted her then was the exact one that she had seen when she had last been up there with her Master: The sheets were still unmade from their tryst and his dressing gown lay on the ground where she had seen him change so long ago. She had assumed that with their Master gone the elves had been so befuddled that they did not know what to do. That night Bella had collapsed onto the bed and buried her face into her Lord's pillow and sobbed until somehow her brain had found sleep.

Now she was a little more composed and with as much normalcy as possible she walked into his room. Her eyes did not pay attention to the hearth that the elves had lit or to the massive four poster bed that dominated the elaborate room. She went to an arm chair in the corner and grabbed an old grey shirt before she shrugged off her day robes and changed. In the same mindless manner she moved to the bed and settled down for the night.

Her dark eyes closed and she pulled the covers tightly around herself while she savoured the scent around her.

It was him.

A single tear squeezed out of her eye to trickle down her cheek.

The pillow, the covers, the sheets, and the shirt she wore all smelt of him. She pulled them closer and closer, her grief-stricken mind was almost able to imagine that he was with her now.

"I did not give you permission to be here Bella."

Bellatrix darted into a seated position at the sound, the covers pulled close to her. She breathed heavily and stared into the darkness for a moment before she laid back down. She knew she was being ridiculous, there was no voice. It was only her mind making her hear things.

"Bella," the voice called for the second time, louder and seemingly closer.

She scrunched her eyes closed and begged her mind to stop taunting her. He was dead she knew that!

He was dead!

He was dead!

He was dead!

Tears left each eye and soaked into the pillow.

A soft laugh sounded through the room, almost like a hiss. A cold serpentine hiss.

"I am not dead Bella,"

Despite what she had willed her mind she slowly creaked open her heavily lidded eyes.

A few feet from her was a smoky figure, more transparent than a ghost. Its tall thin frame faced her and a small smirk hung on its thin lips. Red eyes stared into her.

"My Lord?" she questioned utterly shocked.

Her apparent Master's smirk grew.

"Indeed, did you really think that I could be so easily defeated?"

It was him, her mind screamed. Bella pushed herself into a seated position before she found her feet and stood before him.

"How did you survive?"

The Dark Lord did not answer for a moment and Bella feared she should not have questioned, but he eventually answered the look in his blood red eyes oddly thoughtful.

"I don't know..."