A/N: Eh.
Hogwarts Houses Challenges: The Kitchen Challenge
Prompt (The Quidditch Pitch): spell - aguamenti
Prompt (Drabble Club): sentence - Falling in love was the easiest thing she had ever done.
Disclaimer: Yeah, yeah, I don't own jack. Enjoy!
To Molly Weasley being named after her grandmother was something of a curse. She had the temper – that she had gotten in spades – as well as all those protective, motherly instincts, and, of course, the red hair. But what she did not have, much to her chagrin and the amusement of several of her family members, was her grandmother's mastery of all things domestic.
Certainly, she could perform any number of household charms, but they were, at best, competent, while at worst… well, to call those particular times "disastrous" would not be overstating things.
At thirteen, after spending a happy weekend with her namesake, Molly ventured into the kitchen for her first unsupervised baking session. She gathered all the ingredients to make simple breakfast biscuits – flour, salt, milk, a bit of shortening and baking powder – and set to work. The initial process went well – mixing was easy, as was rolling out her dough and cutting it into neat circles to place on the pan. It was when she put the tray into the oven and tried the quick-heating spell she had seen her grandmother use to cook her biscuits that things went south.
The kitchen was saved only due to the intervention of her mother – who, upon smelling the smoke, had dashed down the stairs and shouted a breathless "Aguamenti!" at the flames. The oven though – that was thoroughly ruined, not to mention the biscuits. Molly's attempted baking was not appreciated and she was banned from any further experimentation without the direct supervision of someone who knew what they were doing.
Similar incidents were not uncommon, even under the watchful eye of a parent and/or grandparent. When trying to wash a dirty set of Quidditch robes, she managed to turn the entire load a vivid red – the sight of which caused her mother to faint. Working in the garden, she pulled up weeds and useful plants alike, unable to tell them apart. Three other attempts to cook ended in fire, burnt casserole, and a gelatinous goo that stank so badly it took a week to get the smell out – no one could figure out where she had gone wrong with that last one and she had finally thrown in the towel.
It seemed that Molly Weasley the Second would never live up to the household magic of her grandmother. She had, in fact, resigned herself to forever failing at those skills – a running joke developed among her family that the only way Molly would have a wardrobe not dyed random colors, good home-cooking, and a garden that did not resemble a jungle or a dirt patch was if she married a man who was some sort of domestic god.
Six years after leaving home, she met her man – a Muggle named Sebastian – when he moved into the flat across the hall from her. A single whiff of his chicken cacciatore was enough to assure her of his cooking skills – three months of dating was enough to convince her to move in with him, and at six months, it was all she could do not to squeeze the life out of him when he proposed, she was so happy. Falling in love was the easiest thing she had ever done.
At the wedding, she tolerated the jokes her cousins made about her lack of 'womanly' skill with a smile on her face – what woman needed to be a good cook when her husband was a professional chef?
A/N: Anyone want to share their thoughts? Nope? Carry on.