Helping indeed..., A Fred/Hermione Fanfiction

[one_eight]

Title: Helping Indeed…
Author:
one_eight

Rating: NC-17
Prompt Set: 50.2
Prompt: 002. Need
Word Count: 5,041
Summary: One Fred Weasley is Hungry;]

Notes: An advice sort of fiction… This is more about Ron and his mystery girl than Fred/Hermione but I made sure to give them focus too.

Disclaimer: Don’t own anything you recognize. Quote used in Lj-cut belong to W. Somerset Maugham, A Writer's Notebook, 1949
Warnings: Ron/Another Girl you’ll learn of later on...

Helping indeed…

A loud bang woke Hermione from her sleep and she rubbed her eyes tiredly. She helped herself out of the bed with slight difficulty. Earlier, because she did not feel like sleeping on the bedroom, she asked Fred to transfigure one in the living room. He was slightly bewildered and looked at her warily. He was ready to retort but after a pointed glare, he conjured a queen-sized bed without further ado.

She went to the side, placing her feet against the cold marble floor, and used a foot to grope for the other pair of her slipper. She stretched awhile after and fought back a yawn that was threatening to come out.

It was nine in the evening she mused, seeing the hanging clock at the far end of the room on the wall. She observed the sky which is covered with dark gray clouds. Rain pelted harshly on the roof making spattering sounds whilst thunders showed in slivers from window’s view.

She expectantly waited for a red-head to appear at the door in the corner of the room. There could only be one person who has enough guts to disturb their peace at this hour.

The shocking mass of red hair heavily wet, so much that it stuck to his face, greeted Hermione. A man in his mid twenties trudged slowly, dressed in maroon coat with blue-colored shirt underneath and black pants, Ronald Weasley entered visibly shaking. His clothes not only drenched but also caked in mud. The disgustingly offending brown stain that clashed horribly with the room (which is neon-orange by the way) covered the floor and drops of water trailed down from him.

Hermione frowned and noted her best friend’s state. Maternal instincts kicked in, she immediately rushed into him and helped him out of his soggy coat. She fumbled on the pockets of her dress to get her wand, attempting to scourgify him squeaky clean, when she remembered that she left it at the bedroom. She mentally cursed her luck, stepped away from him and went into the direction of the said room.

“Hermione, no need.” His voice was hoarse and low that Hermione snapped her neck to look at him. She almost doubted hearing him had he not whipped out his wand. “Ron what is wrong?” A little hesitant, she neared to him and raised a hand to stop him from waving his wand.

Ron’s visit was not a surprise to her at all. She supposed it had become a routine from the past six months that Ron first shocked them with his presence, from then on he comes once or twice a week.

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Fred had been animatedly talking to George, delivering the good news, through the fireplace. While she excitedly gushed on books, when Ron came barraging in. His hair was wild and unruly as if recently mussed and his eyes were wide as saucers. Fred and she turned to see him flail his arms eagle-spread back and forth, his mouth gaped open and close. Fred said goodbye to his twin, who was wondering what happened, and cocked an eyebrow to his brother. Hermione closed the book in front of her and noted the red streaks on Ron’s neck and on some parts of his white shirt.

“Ron?”

Hermione asked, soft and cautious. Ron immediately stopped moving, he closed his mouth shut. Fred stood and walked over to Ron with right arm outstretched and nudged him none too gently.

No response. The red-head only continued to gawk, looking straight at the fireplace, his eyes dazed. “Ronniekins?” Fred said while he harshly pinched Ron’s cheeks.

That appeared to have removed him out of his trance as he glared at his brother. “There was no need for that,” he croaked. He winced and placed a hand at his recently abused face.

His face turned apologetic when he saw his best friend, “Sorry about my little episode, ‘Mione.” He cringed embarrassedly.

Hermione shook her head and replied, “No its fine.” She approached the boys and gave her hug at the newcomer. She leaned on the other, and smacked him in the chest lightly. Fred just grinned and kissed her on the forehead.

“Now what is it that got you to our home, brother dear?” Fred teasingly questioned and snaked an arm round Hermione’s waist. “Why don’t we sit first?” Hermione stated, moved away from Fred and took the coach she occupied before as Fred followed suit. He sat next to her and kept the books on the table facing them.

“She… she…” Ron began to splutter, still standing.

“Who Ron? What did she do?” Hermione asked after the pregnant pause seeing as Ron did not continue his words any further. Ron only stood in his previous position, unmoving.

She began to stand up once again but Fred pulled her down. He nuzzled his face into the crook of her neck unexpectedly which caused Hermione to exhale loudly. “Fred, what are you doing?” she asked sharply.

Ron looked at them, his eyes that were still wide possibly even got wider. He directed his head on the shelves with his ears tinged pink.

“Fred!” Hermione shrieked and reddened, when Fred continued to cuddle against her. “Sorry darling you’re so comfy,” his voice was muffled by her hair. “We have a visitor Fred!”

“It’s just Ron, ‘Mione.” He made no effort while Hermione pried his head off her, instead he snuggled further.

“Oh go get a room!” Ron finally snapped, “It’s gross on many different levels, watching m-my ex-... my best friend… w- with my brother going at it…” He stammered, shuddering all the while pointing an accusing finger towards them.

“Good to finally get you out of that spell, Ronald.” Fred smirked and moved slowly away from Hermione. He slouched to sink in his seat, placed his feet on the table and draped his left arm casually on Hermione’s shoulder. Hermione made a strangled noise of protest. She shook her head but did nothing furthermore. “Now, please tell us why you’re showing up, unexpected and quite unwanted may I add, in our humble abode at this untimely hour?”

Ron sighed and took a seat. “Sorry,” he mumbled, “I really need a place to get away.”

“Away from who Ron?” Hermione leaned into Fred, not seeing any chance of escape from his grip. Ron answered something inaudible. “I’m sorry, I did not catch that,” she confusedly asked. His response was so fast and soft that Hermione did not catch anything. Fred on the other hand, used to Ron’s way of speaking after living with him since childhood, heard it and gaped. Hermione felt his arm drop loosely.

“Fred what did he said?” Hermione’s tone was exasperated as she craned her neck to see him. He stared at Ron then back at Hermione. Finally, he decided that an aggravated Hermione would mean harsh consequences.

“What?!”

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Shocked would be an understatement to define what she felt after hearing Fred’s whisper. All that she remembered was Ron recounting the events of his date. He explained why he bothered them and asked what he could do for the situation. She recalled advising Ron with Fred bursting quirky yet unusually helpful comments.

Since then the two of them got used to Ron’s sudden appearances and now she had a good guess to why he’s here.

‘It had been two days after all,’ she thought. Ron opened his mouth to answer but a loud popping sound stopped him and surprised both of them.

Out of nowhere, another red-haired man materialized directly before Ron. “Fred!” Hermione exclaimed and hastily approached him. She tackled the bag he held which contained some ice cream, and studied them eagerly.

“What dear? Ice-cream’s much more important than me now?” Fred Weasley whined childishly and crossed his arms. He made sad puppy faces at her to complete his sulking image. “Oh Fred,” Hermione replied, placed the goods on top of the shelves nearby, and hurried to give him a hug and a small kiss. As soon as they broke off she made way for the food but Fred quickly and carefully snaked his hands on her waist holding her tighter. And when Hermione rotated her body to chastise him, he kissed her soundly on the lips.

They were broke apart by a disgusted groan and an exclamation of, “Oh Brother, not again!”

“Get used to it Ron,” Fred said smugly a little breathless and dragged a crimson-faced Hermione to the bed. “Bugger off,” Ron snarled and waved his wand to his clothes and on the floor. Satisfied now that he’s clean and dry, he strode to sit on the chair across the bed. “Aren’t we supposed to be in the living room?” He asked immediately and looked bewildered at the bed in front of him.

“Yes, yes,” Fred replied dismissively waving his hand nonchalantly. “So why are you here again, Ronnie?” Ron ignored the question and the nickname instead he went on, “but why--”

“It’s for Hermione,” his brother continued impatient. Ron nodded and said, “Right.”

Silence enveloped the three of them. Hermione enjoyed the ice-cream and Fred tapped his chin waiting for Ron to start talking.

“Ron?” Fred’s tone was bordering between frustrated and amused, he arched an eyebrow to his little brother.

“Ah right, my intention!” The said brother retorted distractedly.

“Ronald honestly, why are you so twitchy?” The only female occupant of the room, who was halfway finishing her ice-cream, stared pointedly to her best friend.

“We all know this is about her Ron, so how did the date go? Have you got shagged well?” His older brother stopped tapping his chin and now settled to watch alternately between him and Hermione. Fred’s expression turned soft when saw Hermione sigh happily in delight.

“She’s pregnant,” he blurted louder than he had intended and his eyes widened, clearly shocked.

The effect was instantaneous: Hermione, who was in the middle of swallowing, horribly choked whereas Fred was simply stunned to stillness. Upon regaining his wits, Fred rushed over the brown-haired woman. He rubbed her back gently and summoned a glass of water from the kitchen. “Thanks,” she said a bit throatily after drinking. “Are you fine?” Fred’s statement was heavily laced with alarm and he hovered above her carefully like a mother hen. “I’m fine, Fred.”

“Okay, good,” he breathed out thoroughly relieved and settled her on the middle of the mattress.

“What was that for Git?!” He boomed and moved swiftly that Ron was taken aback to see him standing before him. “You should have warned us! You of all people should know Hermione’s condition! You’re an idiot you know that?”

“Sorry,” was the answer in a small voice. “Really Fred, don’t scare Ron. I’m fine I told you that.” Hermione got out of her stupor and pried him off, as much as she can, to stop him from strangling his brother.

“Hermione I’m alright,” Ron reassured when Hermione fussed over him afterwards. She touched his neck and arms and checked for injuries.

Fred sighed at him, “I’m sorry… just over-reacting. Hermione’s really in a delicate situation you know, I can’t have her getting hurt or something.” At this Hermione scowled and advanced towards him, “Fred, I’m not disabled or with a deadly disease. I can take care of myself, you know that.”

“I know, darling,” he informed her, “I’m just a little edgy, I’m really worried about you.”

He quickly reasoned and hugged her, not wanting to get her hormones to start acting again. Hermione seemed to read things his way, she blinked and replied, “Oh.” She smiled, lifted her face to his concerned ones and grazed her lips lightly unto his. “Thank you.” He beamed and embraced her further.

“Good Lord!” Ron interjected and he slumped deeper into the couch, “Please spare me the drama!” He groaned, too much louder than normal for Fred’s taste, and sneaked disgusted glances at them. “Shut it,” He warned yet he smiled crookedly at his brother.

Hermione had been unbearable the past months. For Fred she’s a whirlwind of emotions. The first five minutes, quiet to demanding then giddy, going sentimental afterwards, and switching to panicky… Fred doesn’t know what to do. It seemed that everything he’ll do can get her ricocheting like fireworks.

The healer said it is normal for women like her to turn hormonal; Hermione blamed it to him, naturally. He remembered one night when he was badly awakened from his pitiful sleep, only to look for food that doesn’t exist in Britain.

He was welcomed home with a disappointed glare and was left no other choice but to sleep on the living room. “You did not search harder,” she complained. She has threatened about castrating his family jewels too many times he can count, for heaven’s sake!

And a little while later she’d get weepy, start apologizing and blame everything on her self that instead of feeling angry, irritated, and flustered or whatnot; he will end up truly guilty in spite of doing nothing wrong in the first place. He would do everything she wanted. He is ready for her beck and call any time, literally.

He saw her muttering something under her breath, it vaguely sounded like “boys,” he’s not too sure.

By this his smile widened, guess all it takes to have a bit tolerable Hermione is a visit from Ron. Don’t get him wrong, he loves her, he really does… but with the way Hermione’s changing from one emotion to another… well that’s another matter.

“So Ron, let’s get back to the topic at hand,” she said once they were settled down.

The recipient of the question buried himself deeper into the couch. “She’s bloody pregnant,” he whispered as if talking to his self. He rubbed his temples and closed his eyes tiredly. He gestured for her to continue.

“What happens now? How far is she? What did she told you? Will she keep the child? What have you told her?” was her continued tirade of questions.

She dished out one after another that Ron snapped his eyes open and gaped at her helplessly.

“Will you ask her to marry you? Do you even want the child? What exactly do you plan to do, Ronald?”

She paused to inhale, and gazed at him expectantly. Nobody moved nor talked, the couple just waited for Ron to reply. Who just immersed himself into deep thoughts, his mind rolled with various scenarios: the gist of it always ending with the same question, what will become of him and Pansy?

He peek an eye open and was startled to see Hermione right in front of his face. He could almost feel her warm breathe tingling into his nose because of the closeness.

She backed away, upon observing him fidget uncomfortably, and placed a comforting hand on his shoulders.

He sighed, “I don’t know what to do. She told me… it’s up to my decision. I mean she said… it’s basically mine too.”

Hermione nodded sympathetically, “What do you want to do?”

“I don’t know, yet.”

“Do you want to keep the child?”

“Uh… I- I’d think about it…” he answered hesitant.

“You’ll talk about this yes?” She asked more to herself than to Ron.

Ron nodded his head in agreement. “We will.”

“Where is she? Why are you here?” The statement sliced through their musings.

It was Fred and both stared at him. He only gave a non-committal shrug. “Shouldn’t he be there with her? Celebrating or grieving and all that whatnots, an expecting couple should be?” With the last words he stared unabashedly at Ron, “Deciding in short?” His voice was crisp and succinct and his eyes were narrowed suspiciously to his brother.

Hermione sat down again and observed Ron, all the while gently rubbing her abdomen. “I fainted and ran,” their visitor hurriedly mumbled. She and Fred gaped at him indecorously.

“You did not?” She asked dangerously low. She stood and gripped Ron’s wrist.

He nodded guiltily. “You’re an idiot, seriously!” Fred exclaimed. “What do you expect me to do?” He acidly retaliated, abruptly standing up. His ears turned red and he tugged to let go of Hermione’s hands. “I never expected that one coming! I’m not ready for it,” he groaned. “Heck, I’m not yet ready for our relationship!” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “It was really a surprise, we were just finished eating dinner and have been walking down under an umbrella when she popped out that… news. I fainted on the spot,” in this statement his cheeks reddened, “When I woke up, I said sorry and apparated like a coward.”

“Right you are, coward.”

Fred declared and stood up as well. He pointed an accusing finger to his brother. “Who in their right mind would leave a girl -especially his date- out in the rain? Are you mental?”

“I freaked out okay?!” Ron debated.

“Don’t make excuses for the things you do,” was Fred’s simple retort. He withdrew his hands and placed them into hid pockets. “You could have given her an answer,” he probed on, "instead of giving that pathetic excuse of I don’t know what to call it!” He shook his head and look at his brother pitifully. “What?” Ron spat out, torn between guilty and angry.

Both boys advanced to the other, they almost faced nose to nose with the table between them.

Hermione was left watching them, transfixed. She had a hand clamped over her mouth, the other dangling uselessly on side.

“Tell me dear brother, have you ever thought of these things the day you got inside of her?”

The best friends blushed at Fred’s bluntness; they exchanged a look and glanced away to opposite ways in embarrassment. He paid no heed as he said, “Shouldn’t you have cast protection spell you idiot? Or better yet you shouldn’t have touched her had you been on your right mind. But oh!” He had a ridiculing indignation plastered on his face. “You don’t really have a normal kind of mind don’t you? All that’s full of is quidditch and food… well sex in addition now.”

Ron’s features changed immediately, his ears grew redder than it had been and his eyes were narrowed in anger. His hands clumsily slipped off to the pocket of his maroon coat.

Fred appeared to do the same, because seconds later, a wand halted Ron of his search. “Don’t you ever try to attack me in my own home,” he enunciated the words clearly with a jab at his direction.

“Listen Ron,” he stressed his name, “the point is, you started it, you caused it. You should end it!”

He dared him to contradict but Ron did nothing but lower his hand, calming down. The tension was eased when Fred tucked his own away.

“Look Fred…” Ron started, “I’m afraid, okay?” His face returned to its normal shade.

Fred disagreed, “Afraid of what? RESPONSIBILITY?” He raised an eyebrow skeptically. “Sorry dear brother that song’s been sung too many times, I could count. I won’t believe it one bit.”

“Yes-no… yes, that too. But actually of the people’s view. I mean what if we don’t work this out? And if we do, what would they think? A child out of wedlock? What would they think of her? What would they say?”

He slumped into the couch again. To Fred he looked like some one who aged greatly in the span of two days. Ron’s forehead was creased with lines too many for Fred to count which meant he’s thinking too deep-something normal Ronald Bilius Weasley would be last thing doing. His face was marred into a frown the markings, usual yet unusually, blending in with the freckles present. The stance of his brother was also disturbing; instead of showing his full height, he was slumped into the couch, shoulders sagged. He perfectly resembled a man who lost everything in a war.

Fred never saw something more pathetic in his whole meaningful life. He wanted to sneer in disgust at his own blood and kin for obvious unquestionable reasons but he badly wished to comfort him too, like any good brother should.

Nevertheless he can’t.

It would be too immature, too unhelpful and too insensitive of him to lay out things for Ron. He’s not that giving to do so. Honestly, if it’s up to him, he’d leave Ron out of everything until the end of the world. Cruel, correct, but Fred stayed by his case: Ron needed to grow up and -soon.

It’s not like Ronnie’s a foolish obnoxious naive prat... he just leaned a little to the... immaturity side more often than not. This would be Ron’s battle, one that only he can control and decided, hopefully his time for metamorphism. Fred strongly believed that all he needed is a push at the right direction, and this maybe the motivation needed. They can only offer advice, he’s aware of that, but never impose. A child’s life is at stake here.

“Fred,” his voice weary, Ron ceased the musings of his brother, “There’s too many cases involved… it’s… it is very much… complicated… more than it seems.”

“But Ron,” the sentence surprised the boys and they turned to the lone girl of the home. “If this is only about the people… the others, it isn’t really complex as you make it sound.” She took a seat on the sofa Ron recently vacated while Fred monitored her every move with a sharp eye.

Ron’s attention was shifted without further ado, “How can you say so Hermione?” He stepped closer to his best friend and told her, “She told me herself, the media’s bound to be crazy if they find out this… scandal. They’d be enjoying trying to dish out details… picking out our relationship-whatever you can call it that’s it… and they’d be hideously delighted to, as they term it, ‘coverage’ Pansy and I every waking day of our lives, so tell me? How did these types of people doesn’t matter?”

He held his right palm out open to accompany his rant, “Hermione you told me that paparazzi’s are only present in the muggle world, really. Then how can Ginny and Malfoy’s escapades publicized? Remember the drama it caused? What about Luna and Harry? Those hateful deranged articles which declared Luna’s a tramp in disguise? Was that another Rita Skeeter? You never seen Harry act like mad like I dunno bloody hell like some man in amok… haven’t you? I can’t afford her to be served out in the pack of hungry… bloody annoying wolves.”

“Oh, but you won’t exactly ‘serve’ her in the pack of hungry bloody wolves would you?” Hermione repeated his words slowly.

“Ronald, the answer is simple: don’t mind them.”

Fred piped in; he had the same air of composure Hermione imposed. He knew where she’s getting, and winked at her.

“Yes, he’s right.” Hermione rolled her eyes at him.

“How can I- when, you know I followed your advice. We went into muggle world in… Paris was that?” Ron stopped and racked his memory for the place he and his… companion visited last month. “But the next day, a picture of us… was put in a blind item. If only that thing- Pansy and I was able to easily deny- cause that million of responses, how else would the wizarding world react when they’d learn of her condition? It’ll be a Merlin… a… bloody happy day for those people.”

“Ron,” she shrieked in frustration, “People’s opinion was never a need. It’s always an option!”

“Hermione, third point of views always matter!! It does!” He shot back, “It does for her! That I’m sure! Why else would you think she request to have our meetings be in secret? Why do we have to be degraded into hiding away from London? Why would she not let me meet her parents first?”

He gave a derisive shake of his head and chuckled dryly, “that may be why she decided to let me decide. To escape from the hard thing… just let Ron decide, let him suffer, Ron this, Ron that…” He said the words tauntingly in a small voice that reminded them of Dolores Umbridge. Hermione stared at him aghast.

“You- you-“ she began, reddening. “How dare you say that? How dare you accuse her of that nonsense?” She clenched her knuckles so hard that they turned pale… near white. She stood in her full height, looking formidable despite her form. Fred looked at her in panic. “Dear, Hermione… darling” he moved toward, his voice shaky he said, “Calm down… it’s not good.” He murmured words and soothed her through his touch, and took her into his arms.

She settled only lightly and let Fred take her hands. “Ron-“she said in a tone that could put the Antarctic Weather to shame, “Have you ever tried to ask her what she felt? What she thinks? What is her opinion?”

“Ronald,” Fred added, “before you go on jumping into conclusions talk to her first. Ask her, what she’d really want. You’re not sure, for all we know she may have let you decide because she’s afraid of what you want. What if she thinks you don’t want the child? It’ll be too out of the line if she asked that you keep the child when you don’t want to. She’s giving you chance to choose. Not many in your situation have that. She’s respecting you. She values your opinion. Not the media’s, her parent’s nor the Slytherin’s… not them but only yours.”

“As for your relationship,” Hermione continued her voice no longer icy. “Ron it’s normal for her to fear. It is kind of unusual after all. You’re hanging on a precarious situation. People aren’t used to some one like her- a well known anti-muggle advocate before and you- your family’s the famous dubbed ‘blood traitors’, muggle lovers; together. Do you see it now? She needs time… she had to get used to all of these things. Yet this came before she could… I’d dare to bet that she’s also scared.”

During their exchanged rants, Ron just stood there stiffly; no signs indicated what he thought. Although the couple knew that he heard every tiny bit of their rant. Hermione pushed her luck and added nearing him, “Go to her. Talk this about your selves. We can only do advices, some insights… but never decisions. This is about you and her. Nobody else’s. You might be even more surprised with the outcome. Things will be fine Ron, trust me.”

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“So darling…” Fred said after Ron apparated with a pop, “that was really interesting wasn’t it?”

“Oh hush Fred!” she admonished, and sunk deeper into the confines of the couch. “I hope that things would be fine for them.”

“It certainly would,” her companion said airily. “I bet you, the next day Ron would tell the family he’s engaged.”

She looked at her doubtfully, “Really?” She asked mildly amused. “Really,” he confirmed and nodded mockingly. “Ron’s like that.”

“Fred!”

“It’s true and you know it!” he shrugged, “anyway enough of Ron issue.” He crept to her, and huskily whispered into her ears, “I’m hungry Mrs. Weasley.” His breathe tickled her; she shivered a little and attempted to get away. Fred was quicker and he held her close, no signs of escape. His hold was not tight enough to suffocate yet Hermione knew it won’t be easily broken too. She sighed contentedly when he lovingly rubbed circles against her stomach. “Hermione,” he tuned, the desire unhidden. “My needs have to be sated.” He cupped her chin that she clearly saw his eyes, it was full of craving. She shuddered from the intensity of his gaze. More from anticipation than fear, she supposed.

“Sated Fred?” She echoed, with a questioning stress. “Yes, wife,” he answered moving his face closer.

“You should have told me before, darling.” She purred, wiggled out of his grasp and waddled to the kitchen. She swayed her hips in what she hoped was seductive “Come,” she tilted her head when she approached the door. Fred followed her immediately like a puppy, apparating so that he was right in front of her in an instant. “Not so fast,” she said her voice sultry, halting Fred who was in the process of unbuttoning his polo, “I need to do few things first.”

He nodded halfheartedly and settled himself on the frame of the door. She went past him and situated herself in front of the stove. She pointed her wand, which she took from the bedroom before Ron left, on the pots and pan and searched for her favorite kitchen utensils.

He stared at her, his eyes full of wanting and… confusion. Why is she cooking at this time?

After some moments which felt like hundred of light-years for him, she called, “Here Fred,” and invited him to the seat directly across her. A number of foods were placed into the table; Fred even saw one of his favorites, Chocolate fudge. He almost glided just to reach her straight away. She went to get one of the chairs and tried to pull one but Fred beat her into it again, he slid one chair off. He offered and helped her to it. He had been puzzled on why she would seat when…

“Hermione?” He questioned, his voice still coated with desire yet in lesser degree. He hasn’t taken a sit yet so he stood towering over her; she had to crane her neck. “You said you’re hungry honey. Come on join me in, let’s eat!” She exclaimed a tad bit enthusiastic than usual for Fred’s liking. He stared at her in shock, “Granger, really!” He said exasperatedly not hiding disappointment, “You got me worked up for nothing!”

“Oh believe me; it wasn’t supposed to be nothing,” with this he perked up. He looked at her hopefully, “But I got hungry. Change of plans. Mister, would you pass me those?” She smirked, seeing him wilt, and gestured to the strawberries on his left. “And it’s Mrs. Weasley, Mr. Weasley!” He did nothing but stare at her… in astonishment, amusement, irritation, or amazement, he doesn’t know. The mixture of all maybe?

“Bloody hormonal pregnant women….!”

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End. ;]