mincedsakura
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Summary
“Je pense toujours à toi.”
Malfoy had always spoke french, over the years the occasional outbursts of french lessened and his accent became less pronounced, except when he lost his temper and would swear at length and quite colorfully in the elegant language.
Harry couldn't remember it having an effect on him before. It had always been beautiful, a flowing delicate language that seemed to curl and float like smoke across Malfoy's tongue- Harry flushed and ducked his head deeper into his scarf with embarrassment. Maybe he had always liked it, but before this year he wasn't allowed to- didn't allow himself.