Summary: A holiday excursion into Knockturn alley leads Blaise and Draco to a rather odd side-alley housing unnamed shops – and from within one of these shops a strange artifact that roots itself firmly in Draco's subconscious. Strange and unusual things begin to happen with his increased fixation.

Pairings: None

Rating: M

Warnings: Not Epilogue compliant or DH compliant; set after HBP in make-up 7th year ; Dark themes, graphic imagery, questionable twisting of information, violence

.

Chapter 1:

Knockturn Alley

.

.

Two figures slipped through the majorly empty streets of Knockturn Alley, it was around midday and the lull in shoppers since the war was rather dramatic compared to its previous popularity. While many of the shops were raided by Aurors seeking to purge any lasting 'dark artifacts' there was not enough evidence located to shut down a shop or really justify the searches other than being 'precautionary'. Truly, it was just the lingering traces of fear since Voldemort's downfall urging them to eradicate even the slightest temptation or opportunity to follow or continue the mad-man's work.

A similar purging afflicted many of the pureblood families, save those known to work against Voldemort. The Zabini's and Parkinson's among many others escaped due to their lack of involvement for either side, choosing to stand neutral rather than involve themselves. The Malfoy's bought themselves off on a series of testimonies provided by Harry Potter himself and names given by Lucius Malfoy pointing the Ministry toward other Death Eaters and supporters. The Goyle and Crabbe families weren't so lucky; lacking both the connections and knowledge to keep them from serving a decent sentence in Azkaban. Their children however, were given much more lee-way due to their ages and lack of direct involvement; most were simply referred to counseling or some form of community service. Most of which was directed at post-war clean-up. Donations for reparations were also a good way to dock sentencing or 'service' time.

So almost a year had passed in such a manner, and it was in the afterglow of trials and judicial pomp that Draco Malfoy and Blaise Zabini; along with a number of their Slytherin companions, retired to vacations. Many chose to venture abroad, others chose to stay near – but with an upcoming school term looming the two young men remained closer to 'home'. The majority of their time was spent in London; and most predominately Knockturn Alley. So far, their attentions were focused mainly on pubs or night-time clubs where many young witches and wizards passed the time and blew off the stress accumulated during the war. Although, many also avoided the alley due to Ministry scrutiny, but as nothing there was justifiably illegal – both counted it safe enough to venture through. Besides, it was rather hard to turn down a visit to Grody's Livery; a shop catering mostly to 'dark' families but which offered a vast selection of fine textiles and interesting cuts. It was rather… unique in much of its fashion and quite a step in the opposite direction than Madam Malkin's. Another favorite was; a sweet shop which was themed toward darker things.

It was this particular shop which the two young men slipped into, a small bell chiming their arrival and bringing a stooped old crone waddling from the back. She had course, graying hair and a hooked nose – much reminiscent of the late Professor Snape. Her eyes were small and yellow-green, and seemed to glimmer in the dimmed light of the shop. She smiled a crooked-toothed smile at them and croaked a welcome. Both were well known in the alley, almost all of the merchants more than happy to be of service to any rich family.

Draco slipped through shelves of chocolate, pastries and any number of sweet good; jellied eyeballs stored in small jars of red colored liquid, boxes of small sugared skulls, chocolate hearts filled with a fine caramel and gummy brains with a strawberry filling – to name a few. The prices were nothing to be laughed at and would make Honeydukes blush in shame with the decadency of some of the offerings. Being one with a sweet tooth, it didn't take the young Malfoy long to fill a bag and drop a sizeable amount of Galleons before slipping out. Blaise soon joined, commenting on how depressing it was the alley was so empty of late and together they set out for Aliestor's Apothecary. They were to meet up at a small pub later in the evening with Pansy Parkinson and her cohorts Daphne Greengrass, Hestia and Flora Carrow and Tracey Davis. Goyle Jr., sadly, had been rather reclusive since the death of Crabbe Jr. Theodore Nott, however, would potentially make an appearance. It was to be a sort of 'returning-to-Hogwarts' celebration.

.

.

The sun was falling, casting Knockturn Alley in a more sinister light; setting the shadows of the old and grimy buildings aflutter with dark robbed magicians slipping through the streets and only the odd bellow of noise accompanying the witch or wizard exiting from a lively club. Draco slipped from the still-raging celebration and into the dark, cooling street, shoulders rolling back and head pleasantly abuzz from the liberal amounts of Firewhiskey sent round their little gathering. Theodore and Pansy vanished sometime earlier, likely back to a room at one of the small hotel's nearby. Blaise was working his charm on Daphne and the Carrow twins were being their usual cryptic selves and looming on the fringes of the festivities. Gray eyes scanned the empty streets, a part of Draco rather put-out by its vacancy. With little thought of a destination, not quite ready to call it a night, the blonde set off at a stroll, hands shoved into the pockets of fitted black robes and drooping eyes scanning the shadows for movement. It never hurt to keep alert, there were always those seeking vengeance lurking about.

So absorbed was he in his own musings, Draco was taken quite by surprise by a tap on the shoulder. He spun, wand already in hand, to face Blaise. With a scoff and a scowl at his smirking friend he turned away.

"Things not go as planned with Daphne?" There was a grunt in response as the two fell into step.

"Not really, far too drunk, that one – and I am a man of honor."

It was Draco's turn to smirk, casting a side-long glance at his friend but the dark-skinned boy gave no indication he noticed or cared. Their walk fell to silence, words not really needed, and the chill evening air did wonders for clearing the head.

"Where's that lead?"

Draco paused in his steps, glancing in the direction Blaise indicated with a nod. It definitely wasn't familiar, a side street. There were many in the alley – most leading to a residential area, but most of those were named and farther along than the one across the way.

"Dunno, don't recognize it."

With his own gesture and a shrug from Blaise, the two changed direction and slipped into the shadows of the walk. Both held wands clasped within their pockets and postures tensed ever-so in preparation. Being Slytherin, and former Death Eaters lent one an appreciation for being ready for anything – especially an untoward ambush in an unfamiliar dark alley at night. It was about four meters in before any sort of feature presented itself, doors with shop signs affixed next to them began to appear. The words were dark and mostly worn away, lit precariously by low-burning lanterns. It was after three of such doors that a particular shop caught their interest. There was no real reason why, it was the same worn wooden door with a small grimy window, with a rotting sign posted next to it, but a light flickered dimly inside and the figure of a person could be seen shuffling about within. The sign in the window read 'open' so with a cautious glance between them, Blaise opened the door and the two stepped inside, wands now drawn.

The interior was lit by caged candles and much resembled an antique store. Mirrors, old paintings, tapestries and china decorated the walls, old Baroque furniture littered the floor; an old vanity with a blackened mirror and silver serpent adornments stood to one side, a small table topped with sconces, jewelry boxes and trinkets stood to another. There were vases, sculptures and relics scattered throughout – many on unobtrusive surfaces; and in the back, a small counter with a curtained doorway behind. From this a wizard emerged, swathed in black robes and balding, he looked frail. His skin had a yellowing-paper quality that was obvious even from the distance (small though it may be), and his eyes were milky as though blind but he affixed them with a penetrating stare. He was most obviously involved in the Dark Arts, his magic was practically bathed in it and felt old, very old, as it practically slithered across their skin. Blaise cast him an uncertain look but before they could decide to leave the man spoke.

"Ah, welcome, welcome. It has been quite some time since I've visitors so young."

His voice was low and smooth, like a hiss; but world-weary – though not expected from one who looked so frail. Blaise and Draco nodded as he approached, relaxing marginally as he gestured about himself.

"Have you come searching for something? Perhaps there is an item I can interest you in?"

"Ah, not particularly. We seem to have stumbled upon this place by accident."

Blaise supplied as Draco glanced about, the longer he looked the more objects he seemed to find amid dust covered clutter.

"You've been here long? I've never noticed this place before."

The man smiled, a slow, enigmatic smile and chuckled. "Do come in, have a look about. I've been here for a great many years, though often I am not visited but by regular patrons."

Draco wondered at what sort of patrons would visit this place, its stock looked to cost a pretty Galleon. Blaise nodded to the man, offering him a smile and together they set off. Wandering about, driven by their own curiosity and the atmosphere which seemed to warm after the welcome of their host. It dawned rather late that the man never gave a name, but he'd once again vanished behind his curtained door. Draco almost immediately headed for the curious vanity. Were it not for the blacked mirror, which he found to be stone after sliding his fingers across it. Obsidian perhaps? Brows lifted he turned to closer scrutiny, caressing the wood which glimmered in the wan lighting; dark wood – ebony perhaps.

"Ahh, that is quite an old piece. It is said to have been used in blood rituals."

Draco turned, tensing as the old man loomed about three feet away, hands clasped behind his back. He raised a brow at the wizard, turning once again to the mirror.

"It is made of obsidian?" There was a nod of ascent.

"Indeed, said to be used for scrying. Not many use such a surface for things of that nature – although there is rumor that old rituals told how to do so."

Interesting. With a thoughtful hum he turned, locking eyes with Blaise who was peering at the hieroglyphic details of a black vase. The wizard zeroed in on him as well, perhaps seeking to lure them into a purchase with intriguing details of his merchandise.

"Ahh, a Vase of Cleopatra. One of the few of its kind. Not particularly magical, but most definitely a rare find – considering the muggles got their claws on the majority of her belongings."

There was a scathing note of disapproval to the wizard's voice that brought a smirk to both young men's faces. Indeed the muggles had managed to lay claim and underappreciate the many lost relics of the ancient world. Draco slipped away from the two, leaving Blaise to amuse the old man, and ventured toward the back of the shop. Nothing was really that interesting, a few relics that could be considered Dark Arts related, a few that seemed to emanate with magic – such as an old clay doll with strange eyes. It left a discomforting feeling in his gut so he moved on.

Several intriguing paintings caught Draco's eye, Renaissance work, he assumed, from the physique of the figures, a metallic glimmer drew his attention. At first glance, it seemed unobtrusive, almost bland but after a second take it drew him in. Almost subconsciously Draco moved toward it. The object was what could be described as an urn; it was spherical with a flared base and two handles, the top contained an edged circle that could've been a 'lid' of sorts but didn't appear to have a discernible seam. The urn itself seemed to be made of brass, there were runes carved into the front and back; black upon red. Runes he didn't recognize, which was quite something, given his aptitude for the subject and the extensive study. The top also had runes carved into it, a circular pattern etched into a sphere with a strange star in the center. His fingers twitched to touch the urn, though it emanated an almost gravitational aura, as though it were drawing energy in, sucking it away from the atmosphere and giving off its own, heady vibe. Not dark, but not light but a strange coagulation of the two. Power really, to put it simply; raw power.

Pale fingers closed around the two handles that curved gracefully from the surface, lifting the light urn and drawing it closer. Although, there was no real reason. It lacked minute details, quite simple if he were honest. Relatively boring except that it held his attention like nothing else. So focused was his study he failed to notice the presence behind him until it spoke, in a familiar smooth tone.

"What's that?"

Draco jerked, turning his head to peer at Blaise who held the Egyptian vase in hand and was looking at the urn with furrowed brows. The blonde lifted a shoulder carelessly, returning to his study.

"Not sure… do you know what these runes are?"

Blaise shook his head, frowning. He didn't quite like the thing, it felt strange. Repulsive almost and he thought about telling Draco to leave it be – but that was likely not to happen regardless of what he said. With a thoughtful sound Draco turned and headed for the counter, placing the urn atop as the old wizard shuffled behind it. The man's milky eyes flashed strangely as he peered at the urn then lifted his gaze to the young Malfoy.

"Curious object that, came all the way from Jerusalem. Interested in buying, are you?"

"How much?"

Gray eyes never left the brass urn, even as the question seemed to bring the wizard back to himself and he grunted, rubbing at his whisker covered chin for a moment.

"Hundred-fifty Galleons."

Draco gave a careless nod and after some counting handed over the stated sum before lifting the urn again, and hesitating.

"Is there something I can put this in?"

The man sighed and with a nod shuffled to his back room, returning shortly with a box to contain the parcel. Contained and wrapped, although inadvisable to attempt shrinking, Draco lifted his purchase and stepped back to await Blaise.

"You like the vase?"

It was his first question to the dark-skinned wizard as they stepped out of the little shop – the time considerably later than when they entered. Blaised smirked, eyes glimmering.

"It's my mum's birthday soon. Figured she would enjoy this."

Draco nodded his agreement and both young men set off for their hotel, light conversation passing easily between them, hushed in the empty streets of the alley as they strolled unhurriedly on their way.

.

.

Three nights passed, with the wrapped parcel from the unnamed shop sitting in the bottom of Draco's wardrobe, in his room. Three nights it was but a buzzing after-thought in his subconscious, three nights he tossed and turned in sleep – waking from vivid dreams that slipped into a mist of the unknown as soon as he woke. It was a week, almost to the hour, before he would be boarding the Hogwarts Express at Platform Nine and Three-Quarters for the final time, and Draco was becoming agitated. The buzzing was always at the back of his mind, always worrying him to focus on something – yet the focal point of this feeling eluded him every time he turned focus to it.

It was the fourth night when he pulled out the parcel, opened the box and peered down blankly at the brass urn within. The red leaking from behind the black grooves of the runes seemed to glimmer and glow in the dark of his room. In the silence, he swore it was calling to him, but perhaps that was merely the pull of its energy. Fingertips brushed against the top, barely grazing the runes and the ridged circle that contained them. He sought out the slightest hint of a seam, something to remove the top. Several moments of grazing the top, a near caress, Draco sighed in frustration and lifted the urn free of its box to stand next to him atop the floor. There, he proceeded to study the brass contraption – because now he thought about it, it really didn't look much like an urn. Now, one should be warned that having a glaring, stare contest with an inanimate object is not the best way to achieve results, but there was little Draco hadn't gotten in life simply by being obstinate and demanding it be so in one way or another… so why should this be different?

After some time the blonde flopped back, absently twirling his wand between nimble fingers. Hesitant though he was to perform magic on the thing, he was really out of options. With a grumble he sat forward, allowing the Hawthorn to rest comfortably in his palm as he mentally calculated the risks of magically bombarding what appeared to be an ancient, enchanted object of unknown origin. Sounded safe enough… Shaking his head, he raised his wand and murmured crisply.

"Alohomora." Nothing. Not that he expected anything really.

"Aperire."

"Resigno." Growling in frustration he ran a hand through his hair, and pondered a moment before nodding.

"Dimittim."

There was a click, a hiss and the runes burned a scorching red before darkening to a blue as flame exploded to life atop the lid. Gray eyes widened and the Slytherin jerked back, wand ready to cast a Protego should the stupid thing desire to explode. However, the flames exploded to life and died with little more than the resounding hiss, that seemed to linger in the room as a pall of energy doused the atmosphere. Draco shivered for the moment the sensation lasted, spreading out and away as it washed over he and his room ; and he wondered belatedly if his parents felt anything strange – or if the sensation even spread farther than his sizeable bedroom – not to even consider the opposite wing of the manor!

Hesitantly Draco shuffled forward, wand read as he peered into the skull-sized hole at the top of the sphere. A slow blink, and a frown tugged at the edges of his lips; the inside was filled half-way with… sand? He dipped a hand within, cupping a tiny amount in his palm and lifting for closer inspection. No, not sand. Salt. Sitting in the center of the salt was a box carved from ivory and atop that rested a coiled black serpent. Draco assumed it was preserved, like the Egyptians were won't to do. Palm tipping, the granules spilled back inside and he instead, carefully reached for the box. He carefully lifted the small snake, taking in the tiny hood slashed with a white 'V' and eyes that glimmered with some dark stone, with a twitch it came to life. Draco almost dropped the thing when it hissed, but it was already curling about his left middle finger, the smooth black body supple but cold. Ah! It wasn't a mummy after all, but an enchanted ring carved of black stone. Stone that sucked in light rather than reflecting it, but easily displayed the tiny detailed scales of the cobra. Draco smirked, holding his hand out with fingers splayed to observe the addition with appraising eyes. Eyes, it looked quite fine, a definite bonus to buying the urn. This ring was almost the opposite of the Mythril snake with glittering emerald eyes resting on his right ring finger; the Malfoy Heir's ring.

Next was the box, plain enough, a small square of ivory – undecorated and opened simply by lifting the lid. The box hit the floor with a clatter as Draco jerked away, nose wrinkled and face pulled into a grimace of disgust. Why the bloody hell did someone store a heart in a box?! It wasn't beating, wasn't rotten, but lay there perfectly innocent, a shriveled blackened mass in the center of the box. He snapped the lid back on it and returned it to the urn, mind still whirling with the discovery, it turned his stomach, to imagine where the heart came from. Or more importantly, why, it was inside the urn. The lid reformed, sans runes, as he drew his hand out and with a sigh Draco returned the urn to its box and into his closet.

'At least I opened the bloody thing.'

With those thoughts to cheer him, the young Malfoy climbed into bed for sleep. Another week until he returned to Hogwarts, another week until facing up to those in the war who would likely blame those in Slytherin who returned. No matter, Slytherin's stuck together, and after surviving the Dark Lord there was no way a bunch of children would best them.

.

.

A/N:

Grody – different than standard or norm (used as surname in text)

Livery – to cover with apparel (more of a medieval connotation than alternatives)

Diable Confiseries – devil's confections (French)

Aperire – open (Latin)

Resigno – unlock (Latin)

Dimittim – release (Latin)