"Every year. Packed with muggles, of course. Phwoar, the stink!"
Hermione's parents shared a horrified look before Emma Granger spoke up, confused. "Well of course there are loads of muggles. Probably nearly only muggles. It's a jazz festival. And yes, we have been coming for years."
Molly looked back at them before barking a laugh. "Of course! My apologies, I didn't mean to imply you stink," she answered. "What I meant was, I can never get over how visible marijuana is at festivals such as these, these days. My aunt was from New Orleans and said that's what you call a marijuana cigarette"
Dan and Emma stared at her blankly. She continued to try to explain, getting more and more frustrated at the lack of recognition as she went through the list. "You know? Reefer? Weed? Skunk? Shit? Hashish? Herb? Trees? Dope? Pot? Ganja? Mary Jane? Head? Grass? Boom? Dankness? Purple? Green? Cheeba? Bammy? Baby Bhang? Bomber? Kush? Broccoli? Flower? Giggle Smoke? Bush? Need I go on?"
Dan and Emma shared a surprised look at the woman who looked set to tear her own hair out, before the wife lightly elbowed the husband in the side. "I think she's safe, dude," she said conspiratorially.
Dan whipped out a fat joint and lit the end, coughing a little as he breathed out a thick cloud of smoke. "We call them joints these days, didn't understand half of what you just said. Never heard of anyone referring to it as a muggle. Anyway, fancy a toke?" he asked, reaching to pass her the dutchie.
Fucking finally, Molly thought to herself as she reached for the burning muggle.