Hey, y'all! Coming into the home stretch now. One or two chspters left -MAYBE. Some news, Busting Boulanger is being condensed into one file (I've been adding every chapter to the full version as I complete it, sans author's notes). Hopefully you enjoy this. Devynn, don't be mad. Or at least not madmad. Love you! (I'm so grounded)
Disclaimer: you think I own this? Please. I'd have more reptiles if I did, but I don't.
Hermione fought a grimace at yet another one of Henri's bad jokes. More lamentable was his obviously fake french accent, his 'th' an over-exaggerated and drawn out 'zee' that made her want to high five him in the jaw. Across from her, Lucius winced into his wine glass, the corners of his eyes creasing visibly. Harry faked a laugh next to her only to break it off into an awkward cough, which made Draco across from him snort and shove a bite of his roasted potatoes into his mouth when Narcissa, seated to her left, looked toward him sharply..
She was aware of Narcissa's besotted stare at her plus-one on Lucius' other side. Her left hand came up to grasp Henri's above the table cloth in a loving manner and Hermione once again reminded herself that she should be happy for her friend. Really. She should. If her happiness resembled a manticore with Irritable Bowel Syndrome and an abscessed tooth, oh bloody well.
'But he's so fake.' Not another thought was able to accompany as the subject of them spoke up.
"Mon ameez, sank you again for 'aving us een your bell mayz-on." Hermione's teeth grit together in irritation. "Ze food eez tress bon. Ze companee eez fantasteek. I only 'ave one complaint."
'Here we bloody go.'
"Zat I 'ave not yet asked zee bell femme across from mwah to marry me."
'What.'
"What?" Narcissa's shocked gasp came as a near whisper of sound but the room silenced as if she had shouted. "Henri, are you-"
The dusty blonde head of coarsely chopped hair moved quickly as Boulanger's hopeful hazel eyes met Cissa's clear pools. "Yes, mon amoor."
"Y-"
Hermione stood up then, the movement upsetting the heirloom tablecloth when static formed from the accompanying subconscious surge of her magic. "I'm sorry, but who the hell are you? You're about as bloody French as I am a goblin with gigantism and a can-do attitude! So exactly who the absolute fuck are you, because Henri Boulanger you are not." She was pointing her wand at him, one hand which was slowly becoming soaked with wine leaning on the table nearly supporting the entire upper half of her body. The man in her crosshairs was pressed back into his cushioned chair, chin up to escape the errant sparks of magic arcing from her the tip of her wand.
All at once, the room exploded into action. Narcissa had both hands on Hermione's shoulders trying to speak into her ear while Harry to her right cast a Stupify at the unknown man. Lucius had his own wand out and trained on the man, sharing looks with Harry in a silent conversation and Draco had come around to wrap his arms around Narcissa's waist, attempting to pull her back from Hermione. With a last burst of strength, Hermione wandlessly Incarceroused the imposter before Draco could clamp a hand over her mouth.
Just as quickly as the motion has started, it stopped as their now-prisoner shouted, "My name is Harrison Wentworth!"
Hermione dropped her wand immediately, hands comically falling numb at her sides. She stumbled, hips grinding painfully against table as Narcissa and Draco fell against her, and her elbows slammed into the dense wood making her hiss.
"Did you say-" Harry's tentative voice asked. Hermione turned her head to stare at him, her mouth opening to contest the man, but her low-down traitorous friend Silenced her more quickly than she could utter a syllable. Harry bloody Potter was less than terrified by the glower on her face, as he rolled his eyes and jutted his chin back toward their "guest."
Whose face was doing the most interesting expressions. Somewhere between what could only be labelled as Constipated Postal Worker and Tear Gas Test Subject, Boulanger's slightly crooked nose straightened and his overly wide jaw line smoothed out, a dark five o'clock shadow adding a rugged look to handsomely dimpled cheeks. Hermione's stomach dropped like a lead zeppelin. She knew that face. Knew it very well, in fact, having seen it just the week before when she had dragged Lavender, Pansy, Ginny, Luna, and Hannah out for a girls' night.
"Harrison Wentworth," he moved to scratch the back of his head sheepishly, seeming to forget his arms were still bound at his sides. Instead, he waved awkwardly, the movement more charming than anything as he bent his elbow and wiggled his digits. A flash went off and the room turned to glare at Harry who now had his Wizarding camera out.
"What?" Her oldest friend's voice had reached an octave only canines could hear while his face maintained an innocent air. "It's not every day Hermione ties a movie star to a chair! Ginny is be so-" His glee was cut off with a yelp as Lucius took a cue from the curly-haired hellcat gaping from Draco's grip around her middle and soundly smacked The Chosen One upside the head.
To Harry's abused pout, the imposing Malfoy patriarch shrugged. "I've wanted to do that for actual ages."
"Goodnight! Don't forget-" the sound of Draco's door slamming shut, the pictures beside it rattling with the force, cutting her off. The sound of a body hitting the door came just seconds after, then silence. 'Good, he remembered.'
A huff of laughter escaped her nose in a quick burst of humor before her face settled into a blank mask. She rolled her neck and shoulders, a knot having formed at the base of her skull threatening a migraine. Hermione sighed a bit, looking around the dining room, the dishes from what was possibly the weirdest dinner party in the history of dinner parties still sitting half-eaten on the table. The tablecloth would have to be treated before she went to bed or she could kiss that goodbye. Synthetic fibers never did take well to charming.
Her wand waved the dishes to the kitchen, collecting in a basin and levitating in to sit on the counter. After filling the sink, Hermione moved the vase and candlesticks to the side and grabbed up the nearly unsalvageable tablecloth. Tears came unexpectedly as she took in the stain.
"Miss Granger?" She spun, wand raised in one hand, the other clutching the fabric to her chest. His blonde hair was unbound, falling like a platinum river around his face. Concern ran through his steely eyes and he stepped closer, hands gently grasping her shoulders as he looked deeply into her swimming brown orbs. Her wand arm lowered almost instantly. She didn't want to wonder why."Hermione, whatever is wrong?"
Her mouth opened, but no sound came out. Instead, Hermione looked balefully at the cloth she still held in a desperate grip. A sob wracked her out of nowhere. Immediately, his arms came around her, Lucius Malfoy's chest catching the rest as she lamented the ruination of the tablecloth from her parents' wedding.
The migraine that had been threatening earlier bloomed with full force and she barely had time to tear herself from his strong, comforting embrace, feeling the perfectly cooked meal and alcohol trying to make an appearance. With seconds to spare, she ran into the kitchen to vomit loudly into the garbage can under the sink. The hand not clutching the edge of the counter waved blindly, attempting a nonverbal wandless Accio with no success.
Finally, she had a moment to breathe between waves of pain and nausea. "Acc-" her head lifted higher trying to escape the smell of her sick in the bin. A lump threatened to rise in her throat, and Hermione swallowed it down as best she could. "Accio migraine kit." Another lump couldn't be swallowed down and she gagged again, stomach roiling.
A sharp thud registered in the background of her mind and she became aware of a hand that was holding her hair back. "What do you need?" He asked quietly. "The pink one or the mint green one?" She heaved again and tapped the hand that was still clinging to the counter twice.
The vial was tapped onto her shoulder as her nausea abated again for the moment. "T-thank yo-hou," Hermione gasped to him, promptly uncapping and gulping down the mint green vial. The rest of the upheaval in her gut started to calm seconds later, but the pain at the base of her neck had now extended around her head and to her temples.
"Stay right here, I'll be back," Lucius whispered in her ear, and she nodded, clenching her eyes closed from the harsh kitchen lighting, casting a nonverbal and wandless mouth freshening charm to remove the remnants of her sick from her mouth. It felt like ages had passed, lights bursting behind her lids with every beat of her heart. A whimper came unbidden. "I'm back, my dear," his voice sounded next to her ear again, his hands gently grasping her shoulders to walk her. "Come with me, it's okay."
Barely able to open her eyes despite the now dimmed lighting, Hermione grit her teeth and tried to straighten. A sure grasp on her bicep turned her into a now familiar firm chest, his arm wrapping around her fully to lead her into the sitting room and to the couch. Lucius laid her back against the cushions, and placed a handkerchief he had cooled with a charm over her eyes.
"What do you need?" His whisper came from nearby, and she realized he was likely crouched on her carpet, the thought of which was both oddly amusing - painfully so - and a bit out of this world, and every other she could consider at the moment. Hermione still couldn't answer, the words feeling like a rock in her throat, making a small noise instead. Cool, limber fingers, began massaging just below her thumb at the juncture of the wrist which was dangling off the edge of her sofa. Already, some of the overly full feeling in her head was receding, enough to be able to listen to his low baritone.
"When I was travelling in the United States last year, I met a couple who specialized in pressure points. The wife, an older Asian woman, taught me a few things to help relieve tension and headaches. There are two areas on the wrist alone which can help, though how it holds up against a migraine like yours, I do not know." Hermione still didn't feel well enough to speak, but she did hum in response to try and convey how she was feeling.
"I suspect it may not aid as well as your remedies, but I will do what I can. I believe I have seen enough of your pain for my lifetime." Her breath caught and she turned her head toward his voice, eyes still covered with the charmed linen. Silence permeated the air between them while she concentrated on his movements. Finally, she felt she could say something without her throat seizing.
"Where are some other points?" Mentioning their shared past seemed tactless, rude even. He had the tone of regret in his voice, his fingers gentle even as the memory Lucius mentioned was not. Her voice was raspy with her illness in the kitchen and disuse since, giving it a husky quality which, if the fabric weren't still over her eyes, had made Lucius gulp. Elegantly, of course, and not at all the loud, comical sound the males she had been surrounded with all her life had made.
"Well," he began, moving his fingers from her dainty wrist to the outside of her hand, his index finger trailing a line from her thumb to a slight indentation she had never noticed until Lucius Malfoy had touched it with delicacy.. "This point correlates, I believe, to a lung position, as does the last one. The trick is to keep a deep, probing pressure while one massages."
Hells bells. It seemed even with a migraine, his deep voice saying words like 'deep' and 'probing' could positively drench her knickers. He massaged that specific spot for a few moments, paying close attention to her disarmingly tiny hands. Without warning, his slightly calloused hands were gone, and Hermione quickly removed the handkerchief to see where he had moved to, not even realizing the worst of her visual sensory pain was gone. At her feet, the cushion dipped suddenly and she pushed herself onto her elbows.
"This," Lucius continued, making eye contact with his vulpine-sharp gaze and laying his entire palm sideways on the inside of her leg just above her ankle as though measuring, "Is a spot specifically designed to alleviate any lingering abdominal discomfort as well as migraine pain." She felt the rough skin on the side of his thumb applying pressure at a spot in line with her ankle, exactly a palm-width from the jut of the bone. Whether the contents of her kit had finally kicked in, or his hands were made of magic all their own, Hermione suddenly found herself in a different type of discomfort, the migraine as distant of a memory as she would like her undergarments to be.
She shifted her legs slightly to alleviate the pressure building at her core - Nimue's nipples, don't let her come right there - and Lucius raised his eyes and tilted his head to regard the slightly disheveled young woman lain before him. Hermione cleared her throat, face hot under his perusal, and prayed he wasn't thinking she was some sort of wanton harlot for what was becoming a rather obvious attraction. His hand was joined by the other, both of which moved now to just below her kneecaps in the depressions on her outer shins. This time, he said nothing, simply watching her face while Hermione bit her lip and tried to keep still. Lucius must have seen something in her reactions because he was suddenly hovering over her, thumbs now just behind her jawbone under her ear, making her gasp soundlessly.
"This is the last one I know of," he said finally, barely uttering the words yet leaving the impression of them upon her lips in the air between them. Mercury met sable as their eyes connected, and Hermione shifted her thighs again beneath his weight, not even noticing that the motion had placed his hips between them. "Feeling any better, my dear?"
HIs question was breathed against her bottom lip, the only answer he received an unintelligent whimper of, "Yuh-huh."
"Thank Merlin." He growled before surging forward to capture her lips.