Thomas & Finnigan. Standard disclaimers.
They liked wasting their weekends listening to old songs on the radio, because, hey-- they were Seamus and Dean, self-appointed Rulers of the Universe, and they could do anything. Dean would chuck his uniform on the floor like the boy he was, Seamus would don his favourite over-accessorized cap like the boy he was, and all would be well in Gryffindor tower.
The radio was not a modern-looking device. As fact would have it, it looked quite old-- the bulky type for attic-storage, with too many knobs to know what to do with-- and was quite old, and operated mostly on the magic that had rescued it from whatever junkyard doom it had been headed for before being brought home to the waste-away academy. The technologically-challenged Seamus had happily allowed his hi-fi buddy to figure out that the big shiny knob in the middle controlled the volume, and that was about it. They still couldn't figure out how to change the station, but by this point, it didn't really matter.
"You've got to change your evil ways, baby," sang Seamus with his arms in the air, getting his groove on by way of wiggling about like a worm on a hook, as young folk are apt to dance nowadays. Dean laughed and strummed his air guitar at the instrumental intermission, plucking all the wrong chords and not caring, because no matter what he played, it was still Santana. "Lord knows you got to change!"
And the song would go on, and they would laugh, and maybe Hey Jude would come on, and they would jump across the beds singing along. They were young, life was good, and nothing could break this peace they had. Just Seamus and Dean, ruling the universe.