Suspecting that if Molly heard Fleur's words regarding her eldest son she'd forgive him his choice of woman and her pinching of chocolates, Tonks smiled, as warmly as she could manage. Reaching into the box, she selected a squat, dark chocolate that smelled faintly of hazelnut.
"He's an idiot."
Tonks' words were flat and as mild as she could make them. She'd heard every Weasley child younger than she was curse by now, but there was no sense in angering Molly if she overheard her using such language within the confines of the Burrow.
"Tell me about some of these pigs," she continued, grinning despite herself. "I've always heard French wizards were the height of perfection."
If Tonks were the winking and nudging type, she might have.