When he'd turned back around to look at her, he knew that bed would be the appropriate answer. She looked exhausted, which could have very well been the cause of her rather pale complexion. Realizing this, Harry felt even more guilty...if that was even possible. It didn't help that she'd been worrying...and crying....because...well there could be several reasons, but they all seemed to point at him. He had a feeling he was the worst husband ever, but he fully intended to keep trying until he got it right. Sooner or later that had to happen.
Following her down the hall, keeping an eye out to make sure she didn't trip over the blanket she still had wrapped around her. That was the very last thing she needed; to be face down on the floor. Harry was quite proud of himself when he didn't blush as she escaped her work clothes...though, he supposed, there really was no point in blushing anymore.
Setting her tea on the nightstand, he summoned a pair of sleep pants and a t-shirt from his own room, knowing it would be faster then going to retrieve them. He was just pulling on the t-shirt when Daphne climbed into bed. With a final flick of his wand, he sent their clothes to the laundry before dropping his wand on her nightstand and crawling into bed with her. At least there, he knew that she would be comfortable.