Epilogue: My Greatest Achievement

"She is not here!" Severus yelled, as he, on Hermione's urgent bidding, had run towards Minerva's quarters as quick as his legs possibly permitted him to. Hermione, coming far behind him, only nodded and grabbed his hand.

"Then she... then outside."

Together, they ran on in the opposite direction, and only one word escaped Hermione's lips between ragged breaths.

"The grave!"

As their leather-clad feet treaded the wet grass of the lawns of Hogwarts and slowly but surely approached the place they were heading to, both of them realized, when they came to a stop before the grave of the greatest Headmaster Hogwarts had ever known, that it was too late.
But never had Minerva McGonagall been more beautiful than on that very moment, when the black, coal eyes of Severus and the amber ones of Hermione looked up and saw.

There she lay, the proud Headmistress of Hogwarts. The light, grey marble of the tombstone was half covered- and it was covered by her, by the Lady of Emerald, because there she lay. Her long, black hair with the few grey strands sprawled out behind her head, and her tall, slender body curled up in one last, desperate embrace of him who she had left the earth and everything she had behind for.

But her face was turned towards the mortified couple, and it was exactly that, that kept both Hermione and- though he'd never admit it- Severus from crying. Her face was chalk white amidst the dark frame of her thick hair, and her eyes were closed as if she were asleep, but her so often tense and clenched together lips were smiling- it was the smile of a woman who had finally, finally found happiness. And both the man and the woman watching knew, that Minerva McGonagall's happiness was not something to be stained by their tears. She'd waited for it long enough.

It was Hermione who moved and bowed down beside the dead woman first- and it was Hermione who noticed the small piece of parchment she still held clenched between her dead fingers. As soon as she touched the cold, but so familiar hand, though, it almost fell in hers, and she read out loud.

"Have I then really lived one year of my life without my Albus? Have I? Yes, I have, and let that be the only and greatest achievement of the proud Minerva McGonagall to survive the hands of time. I have done many things in my long life, for good and for bad, but this, truly, is my greatest achievement."

It was unsigned, but as Hermione got to her feet again, a big, watery tear rolling down her cheek despite herself, a sad smile graced her lips.

"It is, my mother. It is."

But It was Severus who asked the question first- the question that had, at first, bothered Hermione's heart as well.

"How... Hermione, how?"

As she turned towards her lover again, that same, faint smile danced around her lips- but it was no happy smile.

"A broken heart, Severus. I have mocked that line in stories for all my life, but from now on, today, I will believe every single syllable of it. She died of a broken heart. But look..."

She was no longer looking the Potions Master in the eye, Severus realized, and he turned around, feeling her trembling hand in his equally shaky one.

"There they go." Hermione said simply.

Because there, high above, among the clouds, so far away yet so closely together, two little, familiar figures were to be seen, slightly blurred by the setting sun and yet so recognizable.

They were holding hands.

The End