Ain't No Tongue Can Tell

otp prompts: Imagine your OTP in a tickle fight.

A/N: title from a Bob Dylan lyric.

X-X-X-X

Their first (and only, for many years) tickle fight was completely unexpected. Hermione, running her fingers along Fleur's bare side, hit one of her girlfriend's rare small ticklish spots in just the right (wrong?) way, pulling a giggle from the tired woman. With an impish smile that Fleur couldn't resist, Hermione had brought her fingertips back to that spot, spurring more giggles.

After many years of tickle fights with her younger sister, Fleur reacted completely without thought. She moved to straddle her girlfriend, and held Hermione's hands over her head. The second Hermione realized she was held down and unable to move, she panicked. Not just panicked. It was a level of instinctual defensive reaction that shocked both of them.

Even as the blast of accidental magic slammed Fleur across the room, Hermione's mind was reasserting control over her body, silently chanting, "It's not Bellatrix, Bellatrix is dead," with a sort of fervor most people only put into the most desperate of prayers. Maybe it was a prayer.

The absolute panic still had seized her chest, and the silent chant was voiced as soon as Hermione could breathe enough to force the words out of her mouth. "Bellatrix is dead. Bellatrix is dead."

Meanwhile, on the floor against the far wall of her bedroom, Fleur tried to control her own panic even as she silently checked out her own body for injury. Accidental magic from a grown adult was incredibly rare. It spoke to a level of trauma that she didn't realize her lover lived with. Of course, she should have known. She'd cleaned and tended Hermione's physicalwounds. She'd shared a bed during many a nightmare. But Hermione had never spoken of the events in Malfoy Manor to her. She'd heard only snatches from Harry, who spoke of it haltingly. Even amongst all the horrors of the War, it was something neither her girlfriend nor the Man Who Won could get past.

As Hermione's chant of "Bellatrix is dead" got louder and louder as her voice returned, Fleur could hear movement outside her bedroom door. A hesitant knock sounded at first, but neither of them were really able to reply, as Fleur still felt like a horse had kicked her right in the chest. When Hermione screamed "Bellatrix is dead," that's when Harry barged right into the room, Luna trailing behind.

He didn't even register that both women were nude, sparing only a quick glance to see that Fleur was conscious before climbing onto the bed with Hermione and setting a gentle hand on the side of her face.

Luna, meanwhile, grabbed a robe from the hook beside the door and tucked it around a pliant Fleur before doing a quick medical scan of the older woman. Finding no real damage, she pulled a silent, horrified Fleur into the hallway and led her into Hermione's own room across the hall.

She could hear the quiet murmur of Harry's words under Hermione's repeated shrieks of "Bellatrix is dead!" but couldn't make out what he was saying.

Luna pushed her onto her girlfriend's bed, patting her cheek softly with a sad smile before sitting down herself, shoulder to shoulder with Fleur.

"It's something we have to live with," Luna said, matter-of-factly.

The younger blonde's words shocked Fleur back into herself. "What?"

"That there are things we can't give them. That they can only accept from one another. Like right now. Only he can get through to her. It's the same when he has nightmares. He won't say a word about them to me. Instead, I know he knocks on your door and they scuttle down to the kitchen in the middle of the night, and sit in front of the fire until he either starts talking or it's morning and he makes breakfast while she does the crossword." She smiled softly, apologetically. "I was in Malfoy Manor but I didn't experience it like they did. Together. As a team on a mission. And it is easiest to talk to Mister Ollivander when I need to. Or Dean, though he was there only briefly compared to us."

Fleur bristled slightly, "It does not bother me the way you imply. They have many years of history we cannot possibly hope to truly understand, and it makes sense that there are things they share that we may never even know of."

Luna smiled widely, even though the sadness lingered in her eyes, "That is why your love is so strong and kind. You love her but you don't want to own her." Her expression darkened briefly, thinking of Ron Weasley, and she continued, "And you are not jealous. Their friendship, their sibling relationship, is not a source of contention. I look forward to calling you my sister-in-law."

Startled, Fleur stared at her companion. "Isn't it a bit early to speak in such a way?" Even as she said it, her heart fluttered at the idea of calling Hermione her wife.

Great silver eyes met hers steadily. "When the love is there, a ceremony is just words. I think you've already made them in your very soul, Fleur Delacour. As have I." She stood and walked to the door before turning around. "Why don't you pull on some clothes and meet me in the kitchen for some tea? They'll come down when they're ready."

Grabbing some of her girlfriend's clothes to wear, Fleur followed her roommate down to the kitchen. From her own bedroom, she could hear Hermione's sobs and Harry's soft voice. Her heart ached to join them, but it wasn't quite her place. Not yet, anyway. Maybe someday Hermione would open up about Malfoy Manor. About the rest of the War which had started, truly, in September of 1991. But until then, Fleur was content to let Harry keep that part of her love safe. When Hermione was ready, Fleur would be there.