George lowered himself to the ground to sit beside Angelina, his hand still in hers, hoping that his presence would provide at least a little comfort to her. He didn’t really know what to say. He couldn’t tell her that everything would be alright because it obviously wasn’t going to be. He’d looked up to McGonagall ever since he started at Hogwarts all those years ago as a skinny, knobbly kneed, eleven year old boy and he assumed it had been the same way for Angelina. She’d always been there, always been fair and always looked out for her students even if they were absolute terrors.
“I can imagine,” he finally said.
He sat there in silence with Angelina for a while, letting her cry and just being there for her. He wasn’t sure what else to do, he’d never been good with crying girls and it didn’t help that he was close to tears himself. He had to stay strong though, it would do no good for him to break down now -- he’d have to wait until he was alone before he could let everything out. McGonagall would be greatly missed. George gave Angelina’s hand a quick squeeze.
“Let it all out, Ang. I’ll stay with you for as long as you need.”