One of Lettie's boys!
Fuck. This. Shit.
Fiona glared at the wall across the salon, arms crossed tightly over her chest, resting on her immensely large belly. Tom's sisters were so bloody lucky that they were muggles and she couldn't pull her wand out on them, because dragging her to the hair salon, when she did not want to get her damn hair done, would've earned them swift bat-bogey hexes to the face. Did they not see that she was quite literally about to give birth? Seamus' due date was in a few days, but who really thought that it was a good idea to rile up a pregnant woman, especially one with a natural temper like Fiona's?
Fuck. This. Shit.
While she sat in the waiting chair, watching his sisters chatter under the hair dryers (how they could hear each other, she didn't know, Fiona's eyes drifted to the window. It was rare that she got into the city, on her own behalf, anyway, so Dublin was a bit of a treat. The streets were always busy, and maybe if she forced some tears out they wouldn't mind heading into the bakery down the block, for some pastries---hold on!
She grinned, pushing herself up by the arms of the chair to a wobbly standing position. No one would miss her if she hurried, so Fiona quickly made her way out of the salon and to the pavement, "Hey! Hold on!"
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