Fred had spent the majority of his day pacing down the hallway, passing George's bedroom door countless times. He knew he needed to go through the room, to clean the flat and try to figure out how to move forward after George's death. Today wasn't going to be the day he was going to do that, though. He'd woken up thinking it might be, but then he'd gone to the kitchen for cereal and there was actually milk still there and it reminded him of the priceless mornings giving George a hard time for his milk thievery.
Fred knew that moving forward was not going to be as simple as cleaning the flat. Memories were not exclusively wrapped in tangible items and it was going to take a lot more healing for anything to feel normal again.
Still, Fred finally decided he just needed to get out of the flat and so he dressed and headed to the Leaky Cauldron, hoping for a friendly face. He found one when he spotted Neville and mustered a half-smile as he slid onto a bar stool and said, "Hey, mate. How's it going?" When was the last time he'd seen Neville? He couldn't remember.