The Leaky was busier than it ought to be on a Thursday night, but honestly, Fred couldn't give a damn. All he wanted was a few hours to himself. People getting killed. Buildings burning down. Imperius being cast on his person. Fuck this shite. He was tired of it.
Catching the eye of the person serving at the bar, out of the corner of his eye he spotted one of the waitresses -- the pregnant one, making her way to the bar. Funny, he didn't think she worked tonight. The drunk sod beside him reached out to grab the woman's arm, but Fred kicked him none to gently in the shin with a shake of his head. That one wasn't one to cross, not The Prince at the Leaky. He didn't need to be hexed in the crossfire.
Then again, she dealt with the shady. Like the short of shady he and George needed. She was probably much more familiar with Knockturn than he'd ever be, but perhaps that's what they needed as they rebuilt. Dropping his coins onto the bar top once he received his pint, he paused and considered his next move. One couldn't just approach her outright.