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At least it's not a poison pen letter
Sunday, March 18th ~ Late Afternoon

The barn owl managed to only get lost once before it delivered the red envelope to the distraught-looking house-elf. The elf then carefully carried the envelope to the master of the house, apologizing the entire way.

Harry James Potter! Imagine my surprise when Laurentia Fletwock told me that Agatha Timms had told her that she had heard that you had gotten married! MARRIED! And not a word to Arthur or I!

All these years, we've thought of you as one of our own, and I had to hear about your marriage from that Fletwock woman! In the market!

I'm sure you had your reasons, whatever they may be, for not telling us before hand - from what I understand the entire thing was a hurried and intimate affair, although I'm sure it was just lovely. But it's been days and not even a single owl to let us know! I would have baked you a cake!

We want to throw you and Daphne - It is Daphne, isn't it? Laurentia Fletwock tried to tell me it was someone named Doris, but the only Doris I know is Doris Crockford, and she seems a bit... I'll just assume it's the Daphne you've been seeing.

We want to welcome Daphne to the family by throwing you a nice reception at the Three Broomsticks.


Congratulations, and all our best.

Hollering for Dobby to bring him a calender, Harry thanked the elf and opened the small booklet. He flipped pages until he got the to month of March, one hand still rubbing her feet and started to open his mouth. His eyes blinked once, twice and then looked over at Daphne with a bit of a horrified look.

"Daphne? We got married on the 13th."
"Yes, Harry. We did."

Either he just felt like stating the fact out loud for the fun of it, or he had a point that she wasn't following. "It was just a few days ago, I don't think it's been long enough to have forgotten, yet."
The horrified look turned to one of disbelief.

"I know you've had to hear of the bad luck associated with the number thirteen and when you combine it with Fridays," Harry said while hurriedly flipping to the back of the book to see future years. "Oh, fuck. March the 13th is on a Friday in 2009. We're not going anywhere for our anniversary that year! We'll barricade ourselves in the house and threaten to hex anyone who comes near."
Oh, good grief, I've gone and married a nutter.

She was tempted to draw her feet back and set up straight, then realized that would require effort.

Instead, Daphne chose to humor him. "All right, love, we'll stay in for our second anniversary. We can even make a long weekend of it, and have Dobby bring us food on trays so we don't even have to leave the bedroom. Would that be okay?"


She wouldn't.

Yeah, she would.

"You're making fun of me, aren't you?" Harry asked slowly turning his head in her direction while an evil little smile started to lift the corner of his mouth.
Uh oh.

"Maybe? Just a little?"
One finger ran up and then down the soles of the feet on Harry's lap.

"I've always wondered just how ticklish you are, Daph. And you know how much an unanswered questions bother me."

The wicked little grin finished forming on Harry's face.

"I'll give you until the count of ten to try and find a safe hiding place. One. Oh, and Daph? There'll be no ollie ollie oxen free."

A pause and then, "Two," while the action was repeated on the soles of her feet and up the sides of her ankles.
He wouldn't dare.

Her feet twitched with each pass of his finger, and Daphne realized that he would, in fact, dare.

"No fair!"

She pulled her legs up and rolled off the couch, barely missing the table in front of it, and giggled as she ran off.