Molly's patronus sounded urgent. "Hermione, darling, I'm hoping you're free. We need you at Fred and George's flat if you're available. Angelina's having the baby and I could do with your help."

Within about thirty seconds, Hermione had put a stasis charm on the soup that had been bubbling on the stove, reached for her handbag and accio'd her medical bag from the hallway. She flooed to the flat above 93 Diagon Alley, fully expecting to be pulling on a pair of gloves and using her healer training to help Angelina through the birth of her and George's first baby.

It turned out that wasn't quite what Molly had in mind, though.

When Hermione stepped out of the fireplace in the flat's living room, it was to find Molly using her wand to tidy and clear it of dirty plates from the previous night's takeaway dinner as her middle son paced restlessly up and down between his bedroom and the kitchen. Hermione gave Molly an enquiring look and the older witch rolled her eyes. She gave Hermione a quick hug before updating her on the situation.

"Angelina's been having niggles since yesterday evening," she whispered. "She and George managed really well together through the night, bless them, mostly by staying in bed and doing some breathing and back massage when she couldn't sleep. Her labour has stepped up a bit now, but she's still a way off having the little one, of course."

"Aren't her midwives available?" asked Hermione, wondering if perhaps another witch was also in labour. She couldn't think of any other reason why Molly would have asked her to come over. Healers weren't usually called if things were going well at a birth. The midwives were the experts here, and labour usually progressed more quickly if the woman was surrounded by a few people who she knew well.

"Oh yes," Molly nodded vigorously. "Jane's in there with them now, and Sally said she will come later. They both think we might be up through the night, so Sally's resting up in preparation, I think."

"Good idea," said Hermione. It was completely normal for first babies to take a while, she knew, and a bit of self-care on the part of the birth team was never a bad thing, especially when it got to the later stages of a longer labour. "How can I help then, Molly?" She was a tad confused.

"I'm so sorry to have bothered you, Hermione, but no-one else is available, and I don't know what to do with Fred." She looked towards the man who was still pacing up and down restlessly.

"Hi Fred," said Hermione. He nodded and lifted one hand in a wave but didn't stop moving.

"I need to go back in. Angelina wants me there, with her own mum not with us and everything, but I can't leave him here by himself like this. You've always been so good with him, dear… Could you see what you can do? He seems to need a midwife almost as much as Angelina does!"

"Of course I will," Hermione patted Molly's arm reassuringly and nodded towards George and Angelina's bedroom. "Go back in. I'll bring you all some tea as well."

When she turned back, Fred seemed to have disappeared into his bedroom, so Hermione wandered into the kitchen and began to line up mugs on the counter. She wondered – not for the first time – why the recently married couple hadn't moved out of the flat when they learned that they were pregnant with their first baby, but suspected it had something to do with George not wanting to leave the twin that he had almost lost a few years back. George and Fred had always been close, but Fred's near-death experience during the Battle of Hogwarts had rendered the twin Weasley brothers next to inseparable.

Just a few minutes later, Hermione tapped softly on George and Angelina's bedroom door and levitated a tray of tea-filled mugs and a plate of biscuits to a grateful Molly. "Just slip the tray out the door when you're done and I'll sort it," she whispered. "And I'll get some lunch on when the time comes, so don't worry about any of that."

"Thank you," Molly patted her.

Hermione carried two mugs of tea into the living room and sat on the sofa. "Fred," she said gently, looking in the direction of his bedroom door. "I've made you some tea?" Somehow, she made it a question, and it got him to appear in the doorway and look over at her. "Won't you come and chat with me and tell me what's going on for you?"

Fred crossed the room and stood in front of her, though he was clearly finding it hard to keep still. "I'm all jittery, Hermione" he shrugged, moving from one foot to the other. "I don't know how else to explain it. I don't know what to do with myself."

"Do you feel stressed?" Hermione asked him.

Nod.

"About Angelina being in labour?"

Another nod.

"Can you tell me why?"

At that, he sat down, though Hermione doubted that he would stay put for long. Although his bottom was technically parked on the sofa, his hands and feet were now tapping independently of each other as if he was working an invisible drumkit. "I don't exactly know. I'm quite excited. I can't believe it's happening and Georgie's having a baby. I feel like it's Christmas morning and I'm wide awake but I'm not allowed to open my presents yet!"

Hermione smiled. "Birth does take a while, you know? Especially the first time."

"Hmmm. I'm nervous too, though I know Angelina is really fit and she'll do great, so it's not that. I'm just finding it hard to keep still and I don't know what to do with myself. They," he indicated the closed bedroom door with his thumb, "won't let me go in because apparently I'm," he made scare quotes with his fingers, "not conducive to the birthing environment, so I don't know what's happening, but I can't do anything helpful out here either."

Fred bounced up on his feet again.

"OK," said Hermione, standing up with him before he could take off again. "Well I have to say I agree that you wouldn't be a helpful addition to the birth room right now." He pulled his mouth down and made a sad face at her. "I'm sorry, Fred" she added, with a short laugh, "but you'd slow Ange's labour down, and I don't think that's what you'd want, is it?"

He shook his head. "Why?"

"Why would you slow it down?"

"Yeah. Nobody tells me anything except that I can't help. You're a healer, so you must know why?"

"OK," said Hermione. "Let's drink our tea and then go out for a bit; we'll go somewhere that'll give you more space to jiggle, and I'll answer any questions you want me to while we're moving. Hang on while I scribble a note for your mum."

Hermione wrote a line for Molly on the back of an old WWW flyer and pushed the paper under the bedroom door. As they both drained their mugs, she picked up her handbag and held her hand out for Fred's, apparating them both to a small park which held a set of swings and a roundabout. Fred's eyes were wide. "This place is awesome!"

"I grew up just over there," Hermione pointed towards a row of cottages beyond a small copse that stood to the side of the park. "I used to come here to think a lot." As she spoke, she climbed onto one of the swings and kicked off so that she swung slowly back and forth. "Help yourself," she said to Fred, waving her hand to indicate the rest of the park. "You can swing at your own pace, or walk up and down here while we chat, if you like. I don't think I can keep up with your long legs otherwise."

Fred grinned. He took the swing next to Hermione, but kicked about four times as hard so that his body would move faster through the air. "Tell me why I would slow things down then, love?"

Hermione always felt slightly warm when Fred used terms of endearment with her, but she tried to stay focused on his need to understand what was happening. "Well," she began, "I don't know whether your mum told you any of this, but have you ever heard of hormones?"

Fred looked skywards and then shook his head. "I don't think so. What are they?"

"They're substances in our body … kind of like messengers, and they help our body get into different states. For instance if we need to run or be ready to fight, or or relax and get close with a partner. Or give birth. And ideally you need the right hormone for the right situation."

"I have little owls inside me? Teeny tiny ones?"

Hermione laughed. "Not those kind of messengers. Chemical messengers."

Fred grinned to himself. "Go on, love; I'm just teasing you." In his younger days, he hadn't always relished Hermione's lectures, but now he found he rather enjoyed it when the pretty witch was in full sail, especially when she gave him her full attention at the same time, so he listened carefully despite his restlessness.

"Well when women go into labour, the whole process is dependent on the release of a hormone called oxytocin, did you know that?"

"No…"

"Well that's no problem. Oxytocin is sometimes called the hormone of love, but I mean love in the broadest sense of the word." She paused for a second and eyed him, wondering if he was going to be silly about this. He looked interested and attentive though, so she decided to continue. "Oxytocin is released when we're having a good time with friends or family, or cuddling a partner or things like that."

"So oxytocin gets released at Mum's Sunday dinners?"

"Yeah, I guess it might," she laughed. "At least sometimes. The flow of oxytocin stops when someone feels any stress or danger though, so its flow will be inhibited if anyone is tense or loud or argumentative, for instance –"

"Like Ron?" he grinned.

"Maybe," she conceded, tipping her head and looking at him. His swinging had slowed slightly and he was clearly keen to know more. "Or really even if anyone is just not relaxed in some way, or if they're excited or worried, because then they are more likely to be putting out adrenalin, which is another hormone that has the opposite effect from oxytocin."

Fred nodded. "I get it so far; this is interesting."

"OK," Hermione continued. "Well adrenalin is sometimes called the hormone of 'fight or flight'. It makes us able to run fast or to defend ourselves. It's why a lot of us still get spooked easily since the war," Hermione sighed. Her gaze was still upon him. He was a bright man, and she could see that the penny was starting to drop.

"I'm not relaxed enough to have oxytocin at the moment, am I?"

"Not really, Fred. And that could be an issue because women need to have oxytocin flowing in order for labour to progress and we find that women do best if we can create an environment where their oxytocin flows well. In the right environment, women's bodies can give birth effectively and safely and well, although labour is still meant to take a while, you know?"

"That makes sense."

"OK, good. And we know that oxytocin release is promoted by making the environment soft, like with dim lighting and low voices; it's released when you have your needs met and you're surrounded by people you like. We can promote its release by doing calming things and sometimes we suggest that women cuddle and kiss their partner, because that helps too. Does Ange have a birth pool?"

"Oh yes," Fred's voice sounded excited again. "George and I put it up a couple of weeks ago. It's got magical jets and everything. We got in and had a go."

Hermione laughed at the mental image of the two tall men in a birth pool. "Well warm water helps women relax as well, and relaxed is what we want. Because that also helps women release other substances that give them natural relief from pain. So that's why we shut the curtains and dim the lights and use quiet voices when women are in labour. If a woman becomes stressed or there's stressful energy around her, it can slow things down and make things painful, and that doesn't help anybody."

"Oh. And I'm stressful?"

"Well not always, but you realised yourself that you're not putting out much oxytocin at the moment, Fred, and you seem to be a bit adrenalin-fuelled so I think your mum and the midwives are probably worried that in this frame of mind you might stall Angelina's labour."

"I guess that makes sense." He looked sad, and Hermione's heart felt for him.

"It's not just you, Fred. Anyone who's tense or stressed could have the same effect. One reason women choose home birth is because they're less likely to encounter people who will accidentally stress them out. Even women who think they want to be in the hospital sometimes find it's not the best place for them to labour, because their hormones don't flow so well."

"I don't mean to be overexcited." He looked like an unhappy boy rather than the successful twenty-three year-old inventor, business owner and war veteran that he was.

Hermione wanted to jump off her swing and hug him, but wasn't sure how he would react to that. "it's OK," she said softly. "You could still help loads, Fred. You were wrong when you said there wasn't anything you could do; there's a whole team in there who would love it if we fed and watered them so they can concentrate on supporting Angelina." Fred's eyes lit up. He liked having a purpose. "It's hard when you feel you can't do anything to help directly, I know, but there's no reason you can't know what's happening and we can put your excess energy to better use than this."

"OK, where do we start?"

"Well, how long has Ange been in labour, do you know?"

"I woke up about 6," he said. "And Georgie said then that they thought that Ange was in labour and they had been up in the night but they were OK. So I had a shower and I made them both a bacon butty and some tea. Then I went down to the shop at 8 and told Lee and Verity they'd be on their own in the store because I didn't want to go down and leave Ange and George. They didn't want me in the bedroom, of course, but they sent me to The Burrow for mum, and Ginny came back for a bit too and then that nice midwife arrived; the one who came to your birthday do and seemed to have her eye on Ron?"

"Jane," Hermione said. She would be happy for Ron if he could get together with Jane. Jane was a lovely witch, but she knew how rubbish Ron was with women from her own brief experience with him, and she didn't fancy his chances.

"Yeah, so Jane arrived and went in as well, and then Ginny went to work and mum called you. And I know the birth pool is being filled up for when Ange wants it and it seems to have become a bit of a party to which I have not been invited, which I now realise is because I'm too exciting."

Hermione didn't quite manage to hide her smile that time. Really, she couldn't imagine anyone more likely to unintentionally slow down someone's labour than the irrepressible Fred Weasley in an overexcited mood. Briefly, she wondered what would happen when he met a witch he wanted to settle down with and had a birth of his own to attend, but she pushed that thought back down. She had rather liked Fred for a while now and, while she didn't see anything ever coming of it, she found that she enjoyed her day more if she didn't spend time imagining him in a relationship or having children with another witch.

"So they've all been there since early?"

"Yep."

"Well they'll appreciate an early lunch then. I've got a big batch of soup on the stove at home that I was making when your mum called; we could go and get that and finish making it together at your flat, and how about we pick up my baking stuff while we're there and we'll make something nice for after?"

"I like that idea. I'd like to do something useful."

"Right, then." They both jumped off their swings and, taking his hand again, Hermione apparated them into her small kitchen. It was a matter of a few minutes' work to load Fred up with the wicker hamper that she kept full of baking ingredients and implements while she lifted the large red soup pan off the stove. Reaching for a recipe book which she added on top of his load, she smiled at him.

"We'll have to apparate back to the flat separately," she said. "I have no hands to hold you with!"

Fred's eyebrows lifted. "Well that is a shame," he teased, as he disappeared with a wink and a crack.

Hermione sighed. When Fred said things like that, she could almost believe that there was some hope for the two of them. Maybe. But more often than not, a different, unreadable emotion would cross his face within seconds of his flirtatious comment and he would move on as if nothing had happened.