If Fred wouldn’t have drank his beer already the drink would probably had gone down the wrong way, making him cough and splutter and turn as red in the face as his hair was. As it may, he had already drowned his bottle, but did a rather splendid imitation of the aforementioned even though, not completely sure what he was choking on. He held onto the end of the table to keep himself steady and hammered his chest square on, trying to clear his throat. After a while of violent hawking and wheezing breaths the bloke finally seemed to accomplish some sort of clearance, lifting his red rimmed eyes towards Tonks, looking absolutely bewildered.
“You -- wha? Wha, I mean, wha -- ! Baby? You're bloody pregg --- ! ... He left you?! What the bleeding hell! The fucking bastard of a wanker, I'm gonna fucking..," Fred wasn't making much sense, but he sure was mad! Not at poor Tonksie, of course. But hell, this was... It was --. He didn't even know what it was, but bloody fucking damn!