Ok, I know it's been ages, and that you probably don't remember this story at all. To be honest, I don't , either. However, I had promised you I would publish this, and so here I am (long after it was due, I'm afraid). I'm not very satisfied at how it came out, but I simply translated the last part from the original Italian version, so this is how I had written it. I have to thank SylviaDragon for this... her return to ff world made me think again of this fic and made me decide I should finally put the word "end" to it.
I also have to add that I didn't have any beta for this, nor am I a native English speaker, so please feel free to tell me of the mistakes I've certainly made - I'll be sure to correct them. ;)
Epilogue
Two years afterwards
"Pomona, do you think you could manage to run the school for a few hours? I'm in dire need of rest." Asked Minerva McGonagall to her colleague and friend, seated beside her, while attempting to stifle a yawn.
"Of course, Minerva. Are you sure you are well, though?"
Minerva dismissed her worries with an impatient gesture.
"I'm perfectly alright, Pomona. I'll see you at five at the staff meeting", brusquely added Minerva with her usual precision and Scottish temperament, although smiling. Pomona Sprout smiled back. When she had gone back to the castle, the year before, she had found her different. While before she had seemed destroyed by Dumbledore's death, incapable of accepting it, now she seemed to have found a new strength. She had even seen her smile, occasionally. It was almost as if everything had gone back to normality.
Shortly after five pm.
Pomona was hurrying towards Minerva McGonagall's rooms. She was worried: it was not like Minerva to come late to a meeting. Of course, she could have fallen asleep, but it just seemed so out of character, that she had to check.
"Minerva?" Can you hear me? Is everything alright?" she asked, knocking lightly at the door.
No answer.
"Minerva?"
Since no answer came, Pomona quickly pronounced the password to the painting which guarded her rooms and went in.
Lying on the bed, her hair down and a smile on her face, was Minerva McGonagall. In her hand there was a photo, portraying her and Albus Dumbledore.
Pomona smiled through her tears. Minerva had finally reached him, Albus. And this time they wouldn't be separated.
Some days afterwards
"We're here to read the last will of Minerva McGonagall", began a Ministry official. Pomona Sprout, Poppy Pomfrey, Augusta Longbottom and Horace Slughorn were listening attentively. They were all wearing mourning clothes, each had a sad look on their face.
"To Augusta Longbottom, loyal friend, I leave all my photo albums, so that she can remember me and our friendship, and a quarter of my possessions which can be found in my vault in Gringott's.
To Horace Slughorn I leave my Potions set, confident that he will put it to better use than I ever have.
To Poppy Pomfrey, my only great book-lover friend, I leave all my books and a quarter of my possessions.
To everyone who'll hex Dolores Umbridge as I have always wished to (but never could because I'm a respectable witch) I leave the remaining quarter of my possessions."
Hearing Minerva's voice, the Professors couldn't help smiling. It was like having her with them at that very moment. Even dead, she couldn't stop her biting comments from coming through and her witty sarcasm from successfully attacking those whom she despised. Even dead, she somehow was alive… A considerable feat, but, after all, she was Minerva McGonagall, wasn't she?
The End (finally!)