Angelina hadn't thought of telling him how to get in, where she was, or when she'd be there either. Everything was just speeding by her today, and she barely had a moment to sit back and think about it. Realistically, that was a good thing for Angelina. She had learned to manage and thrive under pressure, but Angelina was terrible under emotional pain. Today she hadn't dealt with it, but it would only be a matter of time before she tried to close herself off from everyone, and temporarily lose contact with those she loved and admired. Death and loss was a weakness of Angelina's. It wasn't a well known fact, but after losing Fred the people closest to Angelina would have quickly realized that.
The rapping on her door caused Angelina to freeze. It couldn't be George yet, could it? Perhaps Oliver, or Anthony? Angelina prayed it wasn't another staff member, or anyone asking her to do something professional. While Ang could fake being 'okay' for a rather long time, today her will power was absent. Today a colleague of hers died. No longer was McGonagall someone she looked up to or went to for guidance, McGongall, for the past month, had been someone she talked with. Had real conversations as an equal. Oh boy, this was all getting to be too much.
Slowly walking towards the door, Angelina opened it every bit as slowly. It didn't take long for the ginger hair to be visible, and from there Angelina knew who it was. Whipping the door open, Ang all but jumped into George's arms. "George," she whispered, her voice full of affection, "you came."