Fleur loved Sundays too. She loved to lie in, have brunch and go to the market, winding up the day with a walk on the nearby beach. She didn't even mind going to the Weasley's house, but if she was given the option of market or the Burrow, it wouldn't take her too much to make up her mind. As much as she wanted to be accepted by Bill's family, she still got the feeling sometimes that she was not welcome.
It wasn't any one thing. Molly had been much kinder to her since Bill's attack, and even Ginny was more bearable. The men of the family had always been perfectly affable. It was little things that made Fleur think that she would never be 100% in their loop. Today, it was the meal that Molly had prepared, a full Sunday roast.
Fleur walked from their front door to the kitchen, immediately putting the kettle on the boil. Her lip was jutted out in a sulk, her hand resting on her stomach. Molly Weasley was going to kill her with indigestion.
"I zink you 'ave a good plan," Fleur said, moving around the kitchen and preparing tea for her sick stomach. "Destroy zee competition and zey will give you a cut of zeir profits."
Fleur's stomach felt like it was tied in knots. She had made it clear for years that she could not eat the overcooked meat that the British were so fond of, yet Molly insisted on cooking her meat to a crisp. "Putting gravy on meat ees not enough to make eet soft," Fleur sulked. "Zat meat was cooked for an hour more zan eet needed."