I don't own anything (seriously I don't) Well, I do own a treadle sewing machine but I don't think that counts…. In my world, Fred didn't die. This story is set about two years after the war, Hermione finished school and stayed in touch with the Weasley family – namely Fred and George (who had to take their final year with everyone else).
Looking resignedly around at what is left of my kitchen I a decided that something is seriously wrong with my brain. My cerebral functions must not be working because WHO IN THEIR RIGHT MIND LET'S THE TWINS TALK THEM INTO MAKING TAFFY THE MUGGLE WAY! There is nasty, sticky goo oozing everywhere: counters walls, floors….. Probably some in a drawer or two for me to find later (like a surprise sneak attack for later). **Snorts** Gives new meaning to the phrase 'the gift that just keeps on giving'. It all started out innocent enough – Fred and George talked me into this last night and they even offered to help me clean up when we were finished. They said I had been working too hard at the Ministry and needed 'FUN TIME' with friends. Guiltily, I agreed - - I agreed to this. See… somethings wrong with my head – maybe a concussion or brain damage... something…
They came over this morning, had some coffee (weakness for all of us) and got ready with aprons and each at our own station work area that I had set up. I should have known something was up or at least suspected something because their eyes were twinkling a little more than usual. Directions were read; ingredients were measured out and mixed together. Everyone had their own batch and color. They're successful business men; they make harder things on a daily basis at the store, surely taffy would be easy I kept telling myself. While the taffy mix was cooling and until we could touch it, I went over the instructions of pulling and twisting until it got to the correct consistency. After a couple of eye rolls and more than a few groans, we then checked the batches again. Thankfully, it was ready - then somehow it all went to *&%ll in a hand basket when the taffy pulling started. Sure, there were a few jokes about buttering up things when I brought out the butter tubs… but all in all, I believe they purposely lured me into a false sense of security about their 'supposed' innocent motives. We greased our hands up with butter and started pulling and stretching until… well, until Fred had the brilliant idea to throw a glob that he had somehow dropped at George. Then George blamed me (not sure how – my taffy is pink and Fred's was yellow) and threw some at me hitting me in the shoulder. I stood there shocked for a moment, pulled what I could off of my shirt and threw it back to him(I had to defend myself). In retaliation for me getting involved in the "taffy fight" Fred started flinging it everywhere and anywhere he could. I swear he was aiming at everything. You can probably imagine the rest of the unfortunate event. Now my kitchen is a rainbow of yellow, pink and green sticky ooze that for some reason won't scourgify off (I believe the boys did something to the batch when they had me re-read the instructions). Seriously, my kitchen is destroyed, taffy is everywhere, I have nothing to show for it and the boys have now been hexed from my home for the time being. I know I should've waited until it was cleaned up before hexing, but in my defense, it was a bit spur of the moment temper flair on my part that had them exiting through the floo pretty quickly.
Not thinking clearly to watch what I was doing, I rested my head on the kitchen counter – aarrgrh – I just put my head in taffy goo… can this day get any worse? Uugghhh, something just dropped into my hair…..