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The conception of two people living together for twenty-five years without having a cross word suggests a lack of spirit only to be admired in sheep.
~ Alan Patrick Herbert
Sunday, July 15th ~ Afternoon

Harry was in a mischievous mood and Daphne was the only target to take it out on since Dobby had taken off early that morning. Putting the guest list down for the surprise bachelor party they were throwing for Remus on the kitchen table, he looked over at his wife and grinned while taking a seat.

"Do you think one female exotic dancer is enough to embarrass the socks off of Remus or do you think we should get two? Maybe one of each, since Draco will be there would be better?"
"I'm absolutely positive even a not-so-exotic dancer is going to be enough to embarrass Remus, but if you don't want Malfoy making sick faces and poo-poo noises all night you will definitely want to provide him with some sort of distraction."

She continued kneading dough at the island in the middle of the room as she gave Harry a mischievous grin. "You could invite that man from the birthday party. Malfoy seemed to find him fascinating."

Her hands paused and she looked thoughtful. "Could give you a chance to check him out as well. Perhaps even make amends for holding him at wand point like that."
Harry didn't know that he liked the idea of having a total stranger attend, but then Daphne seemed to have a soft spot in her heart for underdogs. Or at least for those who seemed to be the underdog.

I should be glad. She married me, didn't she?

"Amends? He got all from me he's going to and I doubt that Snape will be willing to kiss his feet."

Personally, Harry thought the not-Fae should be grateful he wasn't currently in St. Mungo's having his pieces put back together.

"He didn't accept our invitation to stay and have a drink that night so what makes you think he'd show up at a party?"
"That sort of depends on how you'd extend this invitation, doesn't it?"

When Snape and Harry had returned to the table at the party and reassured her that the man wasn't one of the Fae returned, Daphne had noticed that neither seemed to mention anything about apologizing to the poor man at the time.

"I doubt he'd want you to kiss his feet, and I can tell you with almost certainty that he would not want Snape to do it - because he's Snape, and the thought of Snape having a foot fetish is seriously going to make me queasy so we'll just move on, shall we?"

She put down the dough and ran her hands under the faucet before moving toward Harry. "It wouldn't hurt to ask. Nicely. Especially if it might make Malfoy happy, and good gods I can not believe those words just came out of my mouth. It's got to be the pregnancy messing with my head."

Harry swallowed a snicker and quickly ducked his head so Daphne wouldn't see the smirk on his face. His wife apparently thought he was capable of being a nice type of guy and he really shouldn't puncture those few illusions she had left, right?

"Tell you what," Harry said as he stood and put his arms around his wife. Dropping a kiss on her nose, he grinned.

"You write up the invitation for Mr Parish and if it's not too girlie, I'll sign and send it. Since it means so much to you to make Draco happy."

He knew he was risking his life with that last sentence, but he couldn't help it.
"A happy Draco is a Draco who doesn't show up unannounced and offended at the thought that you and I might possibly be doing something 'yucky' together," she volleyed back, tempted to poke Harry in the side for being cheeky.

"I'll write something up later. Should I add some quidditch references or talk about the latest brooms to manly the invite up for you?"
Harry wasn't all that sure that having a Vasily look-alike at the party would make Draco happy.

Although, he did want to stay there, so maybe...

Hell, I don't know.

"Naw," Harry said while shaking his head. "Just tell him the scotch is on the house. If that isn't enough to get him to come - he's not Draco's type anyway."
"Yes, dear."

Of course, she'd word it differently.