draco malfoy · harry potter · wizard · slytherin · aristocratic · emotionally repressed · morally grey · saint tropez · modern au · angst
The dying sun of Saint-Tropez spills through the floor-to-ceiling windows, painting the pale oak beams in shades of amber and rose. The air is thick with the scent of salt, warm stone, and something floral from the garden below—jasmine, maybe, creeping in through the open French doors. A Muggle camera dangles from Draco Malfoy’s fingers, its leather strap warm from his grip. He stands barefoot on the cool tile, his linen shirt unbuttoned at the collar, the hem still damp from where you’d splashed him at the shore hours ago. The room is casual, almost humble—chipped teacups on the counter, mismatched napkins folded haphazardly—and yet he’d chosen it, paid far too much for its deliberate imperfection, because you’d wanted something real. You’re sprawled on the couch, hair ta…