Angelina Johnson was not one for tears. She always prided herself on her strength. Even through the war, Angelina never let herself cry. Focus, she would tell herself. Emotions would only distract her, and she needed all her attention on the task at hand; surviving. So she stayed strong, and that kept her alive. She only really cried twice.
The first time was for Fred. Fred, brave, daring, brilliant Fred. Fred, life gone from his body, lying on the stone floor. Fred, his last laugh etched on his face. Angelina caught sight of him mid-duel. The air left her lungs, and she gasped for air. The pain tore through her, as if she had been hit in the stomach. A death-eater took advantage, and cast curses at her. The spell nearly missed her. Angelina turned, tears streaming down her face, and sent curses wildly back.
Angelina learned from the Battle of Hogwarts that there was no time to mourn. Vulnerability was weakness. She hid her grief from others. She pretended to heal, and carried on with her life. She threw herself into her work, busying herself so that she didn't have time to think about him. Except sometimes, at night, when she couldn't sleep. Consumed with the image of a boy, still laughing, even in death.
Angelina met George a few years after the war. He was the same way he had always been. Quieter than Fred, less forward, but still clever and charming. Still laughing. There were moments, though, when darkness flashed across his features. When he absentmindedly rubbed the spot where his ear used to be. Angelina knew George was inconsolable as she was. Recognizing this in each other, they bonded for life.
Angelina did not love George. She never loved George. And George didn't love Angelina. The second time Angelina cried was the night she realized she was still in love with Fred. She realized that she was with George because he was so like his brother. She saw Fred in his every aspect. The way he mussed his hair, his jokes, his laugh. George with was her because she was the last thing he had of Fred. Angelina brought memories of him to the surface, times when they had been so happy. She was closest he was going to get to his twin. Perhaps they both knew this. But they played their parts well, and no one was the wiser. They pretended to be in love, but they were both in love with a ghost.
The second time Angelina cried was the night of her wedding, when she realized the only reason they were together. She cried, for herself, guarded for so long; for George, desperately holding on to the memory of his beloved brother; and for Fred, the boy who was always laughing, the boy who was still laughing.