A/N: I decided to write a little something about George's feelings at Fred's funeral, so I went drabble. I actually like the result.
Bright yellow robes were more appropriate than its critics would ever know. The color of sunshine and smiling faces. The color of canary creams and rubber chickens. The color of the socks on the body they were lowering into the ground.
Memories of jokes and pranks flashed in front of his closed eyes. Whispered plans, ridiculous ideas, and careless laughter were all his ear could hear.
The weight of a hand on his shoulder pulled him gently to the Earth his other half had left. He turned to see Angelina smiling softly.
She was wearing a necklace of bright yellow.