"Teddy, get me 'nother one! Woo!"

She can do non-verbal summoning charms. She's just being bossy, ignore her.

Lily's voice is still toohigh and each syllable crashes together raggedly.

Teddy just sighs, could she drink any more?

Berty Botts' Every Flavour Energy Drinks would be the death of her. How would she be when she was old enough to drink Fire Whisky? Teddy shuddered with the thought.

But why did he always get himself roped into these situations anyway? The situations that normally involved Lily Potter, a 'babysitting' job and a can of something emerald green?

That's what friends do, stupid.

No, Babysitter.

He gave up on calming Lily down hours ago.

She just always got so unbelievably hyper and so high so fast! He wondered how she did it.

But best not to follow in a fourteen-year-olds footsteps when she's currently downing a seventh can of amber liquid (the colour is different every time) whilst simultaneously singing the Norwegian national anthem and doing a half-formed Can-Can. (with a can. Groan)

She's quite funny if you think about it, dancing around the converted cellar of the Potter's house, jumping on battered sofas and pole-dancing on pillars, holding her old toy broomstick in the air like the Statue of Liberty. He tries not to think improper thoughts as she curls herself around another pole.

She shrieks constantly, with obvious glee (this is strong stuff). Yet he knows she will regret it all later when all she wants to do is sleep. Lily's always hated the beating of enchanted caffeine running through her bloodstream, pounding around her body like rapids in a river. She would be crying into his shoulder later, wanting it to stop.

"Ted-dy! Come and dance!" Lily yells, pointing her wand in the general direction of the old wireless, it plays a Dancing Doxie track on full volume almost immediately.

Lily's eyes are shining, pupils dilated with the drink, lamplight shining on her pale face with flushed cheeks. She pulls him into a perfectly formed Tango (they've been practising for years) and he obliges, only stopping to ease the half-empty eighth can from her hand because she will spill it everywhere.

Lily just laughs and sloshes the violet liquid on his head, squealing at his hair, which goes a contrasting shade of orange.

"It's like mine!" she yells over the music, pulling at his shaggy locks and still dancing in perfect formation, unlike him.

"Lily that actually hurts…"

"Teddy!" she interrupts him "I've just had the most brill-fab-amazy-tastic idea!"

Sigh "What is it, Lils?"

"Teddy, I'm going t-to kiss you!"

"No Lils—"

But it's too late. Teddy can't even finish his sentence before Lily's lips are on his, devouring them in a most professional way (though he knows she's never kissed anyone before, because she would have told him, first), her arms are winding around his back, and she's jumping to the beat of the heavy Wrock in the background.

Despite her hyperactiveness, Teddy can't help noticing that Lily's lips taste like a mixture of apricot, cucumber, shortbread, butter beer and a million other things that are so right for her, and he loves it. He kisses her back.

Oh no.

It's been a year since Victoire left him, and he wasn't sure how long it was going to take to find someone new. But all he knows right now was that he thoroughly enjoyed kissing his best friend far too much…

But at the same time, it's like Lily has been waiting for this, the way her lips move at his seem triumphant, as if she has finally won him.

And it's thirteen years ago all over again, when he had first held Lily in his arms as he did now, a new born baby already curling him around her tiny finger.

And the memory of her as a baby—a child really—makes him think how young she is.

And he breaks away, the babysitter again, walking to the stairs that go up to the kitchen in three strides and pointing up at them.

"Lily Luna. Bed, now."

She pauses, absent mindedly wrapping a strand of flame-red hair around one finger. She picks up the can of drink again, and sips for a second.

"Hmm. How about a no, Teddy-Boy?"

"I'm serious! I'll tell your parents you—you…"

"Tell them what? I kissed you? You wouldn't dare. Mum would never make you treacle tart ever!"

"I—Oh..." She's right. He can't grass on her; it's not in his nature. No wonder Ginny had been so surprised last time he 'babysitted' to receive such a glowing report.

"You were meant to be doing your holiday homework!" he cries, and walks over to one of the sofas, elbows on knees, head buried deep in the crevices of his hands. But really, he's just trying to stop himself from running to that tiny little third-year and kissing her senseless so she can't jump any more.

Of course, it really doesn't help when she waltzes over to him, arms above her shining red head, and collapsing onto the sofa, her head in his lap, green eyes looking straight into his.

"You know, I'm really not going to be able to sleep on enchanted caffeine. I think I may need you to stroke my hair lovingly and kiss my forehead whilst I sob about not being able to sleep for a few hours."

"You're mental." He replies "It could never work, Lils."

"It doesn't have to. It was just an experiment, after all. I really quite like kissing, Teddy. Can we do it again?"

Teddy just sighs. This has got to be worth a few extra galleons tonight.