What she ended up with was a very basic spell, so simple it was brilliant. Mothers the magical world over used it to catch their children sneaking cookies from cookie jars, or pinching floo powder for late night sojourns, or lifting a sickle or two from their mother's purses.

It was similar in format to the charm she had already tried, but had the advantage of working without physical contact. She should know the next time someone slipped a note – or a lock of hair – in her school books.

She skipped her last lesson of the day, to give herself some privacy. No doubt James would want to know why she'd need such a spell. She had officially added his best friend back to her list of suspects, so she had no intention of telling him anything. Not that she had planned to anyway. She had to deal with the situation on her own.

And she had. She felt sure it would work this time. So, sure, in fact, that she was in a good mood for the first time all year. A properly good mood.

She dug through her trunk until she found her carefully shrunken record player. She preferred 8-tracks at home, but couldn't get them to work at Hogwarts.

She cast the spell to return the record player to it's original size and put on one of her favorite albums. She glanced around her room and laughed. It looked like a mad woman had been living in it. Clothes were scattered everywhere. Books lay helter-skelter on top of them or buried under them. Biscuit wrappers dotted the landscape, along with no less than three mugs.

Singing along, she danced her way through tidying up. The dirty clothes went into a basket, the clean ones into her wardrobe. She sorted the books, serenading each one. She danced her way into James' room, and returned all the books she had borrowed. Then she organized her own shelf.

I'm in the mood. The rhythm is right.

Move to the music. We can roll all night.

She doubled checked her organizational system, made sure the books were sorted by subject first, then author and title, hips shaking the whole time.

Slow ride. Take it easy.

Slow ride. Take it easy.

She picked up all her trash and tossed it in the bin. Then she gathered all the mugs – four, as she found another kicked under her bed – and started out to the kitchen.

Slow riding woman you're so fine.

She set about washing her dishes. She scrubbed them in rhythm with the music, singing along at the top of her voice, twisting and turning and shaking her bum.

When she turned to set the first mug out to dry, she screamed and dropped it. Potter only laughed.

"What are you doing in here?" Lily gasped out, still trying to catch her breath.

He looked around curiously. "I could swear I live here."

"You should be in class."

"So should you."

The music continued blaring in the background. Lily pressed her lips together, trying to fight down the blush. Not only had he caught her skiving off, he'd also walked in on her dancing like a maniac.

To her surprised, he looked nearly as embarrassed. "I was worried," he said. "Whatever you claimed about an allergy, you were acting odd in class the other day."

"You came to check on me."

He shrugged. "What's this?" he asked, jerking his head toward her room.

"Umm . . . me cleaning up?"

"I meant the music. But, remind me to come back to the fact that you skip lessons to clean. Because that warrants quite a lot of concern."

She felt her color rise again.

"So?" he asked. "It's muggle, right?"

Lily nodded, but didn't elaborate.

"I like it," he said, wandering toward her bedroom. "It's very loud. And . . . exciting, I guess."

"Foghat."

"I'm sorry?" his concern ratcheted up a notch. Obviously he hadn't forgotten her pitch perfect impression of a crazy cat lady the night before.

"Umm . . . The band. It's Foghat. That's the name of it."

"Bit of an odd name."

Lily shrugged. "I suppose. They're all a bit odd, though. The Rolling Stones? Creedence Clearwater Revival? Lynyrd Skynyrd?" She thought it over for a minute. "I guess the Rolling Stones makes some sense, when you think about it. Tom Petty and The Heartbreakers? That seems like a reasonable name for a band, I guess."

He was watching her, more curious than concerned now. "Are you going to play them all for me?"

"No," she shook her head, reminding herself she had no reason to be nervous around him. So, he was popular, and she wasn't. So, she had made the very foolish decision to sleep with him, and then do it again, and again. That was done now. She had been the one to stop it. He should be nervous around her.

Except that clearly wasn't the case.

"Why not?" he asked, strolling into her room as though he was perfectly welcome. She tried to glare at him, but he only grinned in response. "I'd like to hear them."

"I'm not going to play you every bit of muggle music there is."

"Of course not," he said, walking over to her record player. "I just want to hear The Rolling Stones. And Tom Penny and the Heartbreakers. And Leonard Skinner. And whatever that other one you said was. The long one."

"Creedance Clearwater Revival."

"Yeah. Let's start there."

Lily could only stare at him. "I'm mad at you."

He cocked his head, exaggerating his speculative look. "You don't seem like you're mad at me."

"I was in a good mood!"

"Excellent. Why don't you share it with me?"

"Because you'll ruin it for me."

He picked the needle up, curious when the music cut off. "No," he said. "I don't think I will. I promise not to be an arse." He looked up and grinned at her. "You like me when I'm not being an arse."

"I don't know what gave you that idea," she said.

"Shagging me was a pretty big hint."

She didn't have to fake a glare this time.

"I was a wanker before. I've said I'm sorry. And anyway, I'm not asking you to shag me. I'm asking you to educate me." He blinked wide, innocent eyes at her. No wonder he never got in trouble. "Will you really turn me down when I'm asking for help? I just want to understand muggle culture."

"Mock it is more likely," Lily muttered.

"No," he said, looking disturbed by the comment. "Not at all. I wasn't taking the mickey, before. I really did like the sound of that." He sent a smoldering look her way. "I liked the dancing too, but since you've taken shagging off the table, I'll focus on the music. Which we can enjoy on an completely platonic level."

One Creedence album and half a Tom Petty song. That was exactly how long it took him to get her back into bed.