She grimaced a little at that. "I don't want her taking it all over, although I wouldn't mind implying that to my mother. I've dreamed of this... my wedding, to you, for a long time. I want it how I want it. I just don't want it to be a farce." Still, Draco's mother had impeccable taste. Her advice would be very valuable.
She shot him an amused smile as she put the garlic bread in a warmed basket, and began to serve up two helpings of the still steaming spaghetti. "Oh, I might. Or I might make you guess. You're usually quite astute at figuring out when I'm tired of you being civilized and proper," she nearly purred at him, brushing past him with full plates, walking into the dining room and putting them down, lighting the candles on the table with a flick of her wand. "Dinner's served," she said with a flourish.