"Better at the jumpin' straight in and trying not to get too many bruises. Nobody needs an emotional shiner. Ain't even halfway pretty."

Her lips curl themselves upward during his speech, fingers twitching in her lap for a moment in some (increasingly futile) attempt at restraint. She always tries with Albus. Sometimes it doesn't work. This is one of those times.

As far as warning signs go, there's this gleeful little noise followed by near-immediate pouncing - arms twisted around his neck, nose up under his chin, and a stream of delighted babbling affections.