Theodore had lingered at the back of the room for a good portion of the service. He hated funerals as he had been to too many in his life, or at least for too many people who mattered to him. He noticed the distinct lack of pews and recognized many of the people in attendence were indeed those of a business crowd. It did indeed seem that nothing was too sacred, however he supposed that Charlotte did have a lot to make up for making it important to mesh well with these folks. And she did have Tracey to look after, as well. Two things that Theodore was thankful he was never left with. Surprisingly little suspicion was directed to himself after the war was over--instead many just overlooked him as a victim of circumstance after some initial questioning--and he never had anyone else to look after as his own sibling had perished years before (Theodore would say that his brother wouldn't have been as much trouble to begin with, but that would all just be speculation).
He turned his eyes from a pair who were obviously shaking hands upon a deal well made, to prevent himself from staring when it was then out of the corner of his eye he spotted Tracey. She apparently wasn't taking this too well. He couldn't personally blame her, but it perhaps she just had difficulty understanding what had to be the true intentions of her sister. Moving from the back row, Theodore walked towards Tracey, and stood next to her and spoke quietly so as to not interrupt what was going on around him. "My condolences Tracey," he said, gesturing to the House Elf toting wine to clear out to service other people. He paused for an awkward distinct lack of words. But he figured that it didn't matter; funerals weren't about the words anyways.