Harry and Hermione exchanged weary glances. They'd spent the last several days hard at work at one task, attempting to explain muggle music to their in-laws. Ginny and Ron had both gone to bed hours ago, but Molly and Arthur sat side by side, still looking puzzled.
"Well, not everyone can be Celestina Warbeck," began Molly, "but I'm not sure I get the point of this one."
"I think, my dear, this might be about the Deathly Hallows," said Arthur. "But how would muggles know anything about that?"
"No, sir." Hermione's tone was edging toward complete exasperation. Harry admired her restraint, as he had lost all pretense of patience over an hour ago. "This is Celine Dion. The song is called 'My Heart Will Go On,' and it's about a woman who loved someone so much that their love will never end."
"Unless it comes to sharing her flotation device with him." Harry realized he said this aloud when Hermione shot him a withering glare.
"Fine, so she's not singing about becoming the master of death," conceded Arthur. "But let's go back to that song I heard yesterday..."
Hermione groaned. "Harry, you're up. I don't know how else to explain that one."
Harry grinned at her distress. "You see, his parents didn't name him Meatloaf. That's just his stage name. And when he said he would do 'anything for love,' but he 'won't do that,' he's referring to what the lady sings. She says he'll cheat on her, but he's saying he won't."
Arthur nodded thoughtfully. "I think I get it now."
Harry and Hermione sighed in unison. Harry stood up from the table, "Why don't we call it ni-"
"What I don't get," interrupted Molly, "is the one about the baker."
Hermione looked as if she were about to cry. She leaned toward Harry, whispering furiously, "Why in the world did you ever play that awful song for her?"
Harry tried not to smile at his friend's accusation. He'd played that song for the Weasleys just to irritate Hermione. It probably served him right that he'd have to explain it again.
Before he could open his mouth, however, Molly continued her wondering aloud. "I mean why wouldn't the silly muggle have the recipe written down? How did he make it in the first place? And why did it take so long to bake? Are muggle kitchens really that bad? But I really think the most important question is why in the world he left a cake outside when the forecast called for rain."
Harry chuckled as Hermione's eyes shot daggers at him. "That one might be too hard to explain tonight. Maybe we should go to bed and see if things will be clearer in the morning. And maybe you can listen to some of the Spice Girls."
Molly yawned and rose from the table, Arthur a half a beat behind her. "That sounds lovely dear."
As Hermione and Harry climbed the stairs, they could still hear Arthur and Molly talking in the kitchen. Hermione turned to glare at Harry once more as Arthur's words reached them.
"Spice Girls, eh? Perhaps they're friends with that baker you keep asking about. Apprentices perhaps?"
Harry thought he might sprain a rib trying to hold his laughter in.