As evening drew on, they had finished exploring the botanical garden at the top of the hill, having had quite their fill of cacti and shrubs beneath the scorching sun, and made their way slowly back down the stone path.
Just as the worst of the day's heat began to fade, people who had been sheltering in their air-conditioned hotels began venturing bravely out once more.
A bustling crowd of tourists lingered outside the little shops, buying all manner of quirky trinkets.
"What on earth are those things?" Draco asked, frowning.
"Those are Muggle fridge magnets, the sort you stick to a fridge." Hermione picked one up to show him. "There is a picture on the front, and a magnet on the back. It sticks to anything metal, like this..."
The tiny fridge magnet leapt with a soft whoosh towards a metal display plate.
"How very strange," Draco remarked, "I have absolutely no idea what it could possibly be for."
"It is a souvenir! Every time you pass the fridge, you can see all the places you have visited, through these little magnets. Is that not rather charming? Imagine how satisfying it would be, to have a whole fridge door covered in them, like a wall of badges proving you have travelled the world," Hermione said enthusiastically.
"My mum loves collecting these. Though her taste runs to the rather odd; she is especially fond of the ones shaped strangely."
"But whatever is a fridge?" Draco asked, feeling rather foolish.
"Oh, that is a special sort of cupboard for keeping food in. It stays very cold inside. Keeping food in there is a bit like casting a Preservation Charm on it," Hermione explained to him, gathering her thoughts.
"Although a fridge does have its limits; it cannot keep food fresh forever."
Once she had finished speaking, her gaze lingered over the various fridge magnets on offer. Sadly, she found none especially unusual among them.
Draco was thoroughly baffled by all this. Yet his pride would not allow him to show any weakness, or admit that his grasp of the "Muggle fridge" was only rather superficial.
He did not care for the feeling of "not understanding her world."
Rather uneasily, he walked alongside her and remarked, dismissively, "I do not think there is anything here up to your standards."
"At least I can try." Hermione carried on walking, her gaze lingering on each shopfront along the road. "I would simply like to buy something, even just as a keepsake."
That curious little shop appeared before them just then.
It looked far older than the shops beside it, quite out of place among them. A rusty iron sign hung on its mottled door, reading "Boutique de souvenirs"; beneath the words, an image of a phoenix perched upon a bone... the very symbol of the town of Èze.
What struck them as odd was that, while the shops on either side bustled with activity, not a single tourist paused before it. It stood eerily quiet, as though those people could not even see it at all.
Hermione understood at once what he was thinking.
She tugged at his sleeve. "Draco, is this not a shop only wizards can see? Rather like the Leaky Cauldron?"
"I should think so." Draco studied it for a moment, then gave a cautious nod.
"Shall we go and have a look?" Hermione asked him. She looked both curious and wary at once, rather like a cat sitting before a cardboard box, uncertain what might lie within, yet quite determined to climb in and see.
That expression made Draco smile.
"It is only a souvenir shop. There cannot be much harm in looking." Prompted by her, Draco studied the shop's sign and name, and found himself rather curious about this mysterious little place.
Perhaps it would be something like Borgin and Burkes, selling nothing but Dark artefacts. I wonder how French Dark artefacts differ from British ones, Draco pondered with interest.
"Let us go and look." He made up his mind and walked straight in. Hermione followed close behind, watching as he suddenly pushed the shop door open, amid the soft tinkling of wind chimes.
This shop killed off half of Draco's interest at once.
It was not some den of Dark magic at all, but an ordinary shop selling magical souvenirs. All manner of raw crystals, pendulums, spellbooks, Tarot cards, and magical oils could be found within.
Bottles and jars stood stacked upon a long table, and in the corner stood several large shelves displaying magical herbs. The place was reasonably tidy, though much of it looked rather cluttered, somewhat like a Divination classroom... and Draco promptly lost interest in the other half as well.
The walls were painted in shades of green, though not the sort of green that put Draco in mind of calm, steady Slytherin, but rather of some hot, humid tropical jungle; the various decorations, too bright in colour, gave the whole place a strong, almost Bohemian air.
Behind the dark counter stood a listless old witch.
Her face was powdered very white, though this did nothing to hide her wrinkles; her lips were blood-red, and she muttered something under her breath.
She wiped, absently and slowly, at a tarnished singing bowl, and when she heard someone come in, did not so much as lift her eyelids, saying only, "Welcome." in French.
Her tone suggested she had no particular wish to be disturbed by any guests.
Draco found this attitude rather off-putting.
He never much cared for being treated so casually by strangers. He showed no anger on his face, nor did he storm off, as he might usually have done... all because Hermione was still looking round the shop with great interest.
She seemed quite unconcerned by the witch's manner, and, glancing about, made straight for the pile of spellbooks.
Typical Hermione Granger, shopping just as he might have expected... always the books first.
Draco shook his head, helpless, watching her retreating figure.
"Look!" She suddenly turned and pointed to a thick, dusty book on a corner shelf for Draco to see, its cover marked with the phoenix and bone symbol. "That same symbol!"
Draco smiled at her, put his hands in his pockets, and leant casually against a pillar, humming his agreement lazily.
"What does the image on the cover mean?" Hermione asked the witch, holding up the book.
The witch behind the counter finally gave them a second glance. Seeing that Hermione was actually interested in the book, rather than simply browsing and leaving, she grew a good deal more welcoming.
"Oh, this is the symbol of Èze, the origin of magic in these parts." She grinned at them, speaking in broken English.
"The earliest wizards here can be traced back two and a half thousand years. They came from Egypt, and settled here... they brought with them their own magical traditions and their own magical worship, the most famous of which is the magic of resurrection."
"But that is impossible!" Hermione exclaimed, shocked. "How could anyone come back to life, even a wizard..."
"Of course, of course, most people think it merely a legend. But it is all written down, in that very book! If you are interested, you may buy it and study it for yourself," the witch tempted Hermione, a sly smile on her face.
At this, she finally emerged from behind the counter, her long dress swaying, the great bracelets at her wrists jingling with every step.
Draco gave the rambling witch an impatient look.
Then, he suddenly stepped forward, placing himself between Hermione and the witch, and said, without any particular hurry, "Hermione, let us go, there is nothing worth seeing here."
Hermione did not move. She flicked through a few pages of the yellowed old book and decided to buy it regardless.
The witch was overjoyed.
Taking the book from Hermione by way of Draco, she returned to the counter, deftly took up a sheet of parchment, wrapped the book in it, tied it with thin string, and handed it back to Hermione.
She said, obligingly, "You will not be disappointed, this is the very last one we have."
Draco beat Hermione to it, tossing the witch a few Galleons. Then, to Hermione's puzzled look, he took her firmly by the arm and steered her straight out of the shop and back into the bustling crowd of tourists.
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