A/N: Hello, lovelies, we have reached the end of the line, the Promised Land, the final chapter. And to be clear, there has been a crazy time jump of about several decades, definitely much longer than nineteen years. Enjoy!

Chapter 8: Embers

She gazed out the window as the sun set over Hogwarts, the ripples of the lake reflecting the dying rays and the marble tomb mirroring the reddish glow. Her mind wandered as it was wont to do in the quiet. Her memories flowed like the tides, mixing and swirling till there was no difference in the timing of one to the other. She sighed, leaning back into her chair to ease her back. Her old friend shifted in his painted chair and she turned her head towards him; the small noise had brought her back to the present and made her memories recede.

"What are you thinking about, my dear?" Albus' portrait asked softly.

She tilted her head to the side. What had she been thinking about? Minerva thought a moment then plucked a memory from the recesses of her mind.

"I was thinking about the night Elphinstone proposed," she said succinctly, then continued slowly as she let the memory fill her. "We were coming up from Hogsmeade and it was getting dark; it was a full moon so we could still see and the small breeze felt lovely. I had this sudden urge to walk around the lake; it was a beautiful night and I was having a wonderful time, I didn't want it to end. The moon looked so big, but it's reflection in the lake seemed small in comparison." She let out a small laugh, "It looked like a blue rippling ball of light in the lake. We walked to the other side and stood there awhile, just watching the stars, trying to name the constellations and see who knew the stories behind them better. And then he asked me. I don't think he expected me to accept; it was almost a habit by that time. I'd said no so many times I'm surprised he still held hope. Glad, but surprised. He hadn't asked in a while so he was probably getting to that point soon. And I knew it was right; that I would say yes. He was a man that loved me, that hadn't left me even when I said no, that hadn't moved on a few years later even when I couldn't explain why I said no. I stood by the lake with my dearest companion and the reflection of a will o' the wisp, and I said yes." She turned her head back to the window, her eyes beginning to well up. She should have said yes sooner.

"I sometimes wonder, Minerva, if you followed the will o' the wisps or they followed you," Albus said with a smile. "They seemed to always be there, whether real or perceived."

"I followed them," she answered softly. "I just saw them everywhere because I hoped they would lead me again."

"You didn't need them; you always knew the path you chose," he responded kindly, "If anything, they were the small garden lights reassuring you that you were going the right way."

"And you were there to illuminate the crossroads," she said, a smile dancing in her eyes.

"You're too kind," he said, a light blush coloring his cheeks.

Minerva continued to stare out the window, watching as the stars began to make an appearance and the last rays began to die. Albus settled more comfortably into his chair, looking about at his fellow portraits; most of them had gone off to their other portraits or to go visit their other painted friends throughout the castle, but there were still some sleeping in their frames.

Her question came so softly and out of the blue that at first he thought he imagined it; he certainly didn't understand it.

"Where does the garden path lead, Albus?" At his quizzical look she expanded, "You said they were garden lights, but where does the garden path lead?"

Her eyes bored into him with the intensity of how much this answer meant to her. He thought to himself, almost sadly, she still doubts herself after all this time. She was the only person he knew who could be so sure yet simultaneously so full of doubt.

"Home, Minerva. The path has always been leading you home."

Her face slowly lit up with her smile. It gave the stern witch an almost softer, younger look. They sat in silence once more before she noticed how late it was getting and got to her feet. Using her cane, she hobbled just past his portrait before stopping.

Minerva placed her hand against his portrait, "I miss you, Albus," her voice slightly warbled.

His eyes twinkled, whether by habit or unshed tears or even a painter's brushstroke she couldn't say, "I miss you too, my dear. We will be together again in time. Sleep well."

She nodded absently and continued the trek to her rooms. Her hip was bothering her again; when she had been thrown to the ground by the force of the four stunners so many years ago she had damaged her hip. At the time, she only used the cane for a couple months as it healed. It was often sore, but she soon needed the cane no longer. But as she progressed in age, she seemed to feel her hip more, and in the past few years had begun to lean more and more on the cane.

She quickly changed and did her nightly rituals, and was soon sliding into her bed, hoping that sleep would come swiftly. Instead, Minerva lay awake staring at the dark green canopy above her, drifting in and out of memories that had no correlation with each other. Memories of the Battle mingled with her first courtship, her childhood with her teaching years, the Ministry with the will o' the wisps. They were a jumble and did not make sense linearly. It made her wonder if she was dreaming, but then she decided if she was cognizant of that then she was still awake.

Minerva turned onto her side, and her mind finally settled on a single memory. The sun was streaming through the tall windows of the Transfiguration classroom; she straightened her emerald green robes and adjusted her black pointed hat just as the students entered. The memory appeared to be general; Minerva couldn't figure out what class it was and could barely make out the faces of the students. She thought she saw Hermione in the front, but that couldn't be right because it looked like Remus was seated next to her. Towards the back she could see Amos talking to Teddy. It was hard to pick out the faces, and they even seemed to shift around; where Hermione was there was a young girl who looked like Narcissa. The years and houses had blended together in her memories. All of them important, all of them students she had had a hand in raising. Minerva walked around her desk with ease, her hip no longer hurting, to the front of the class and taught Transfiguration. These were her happiest memories.

She murmured softly as her tiredness began to weigh on her, "They led me home."

Minerva finally slept and found the peace she had sought for so many years. The stars shone as brightly as blue flames in the night sky, the lost memories of the ancients etched into the heavens, before dimming to mere embers as dawn approached, the present blotting out the past. The kitchens were ablaze with light as the elves began preparing breakfast, their domain soon clamoring with the pots and pans and warmed by the stoking of the ovens. The Headmistress' Office was silent in the half-light; the only noises the soft breathing of former headmasters and headmistresses and the muffled whirring of some strange silver instruments left from Albus' tenure. The sun rose from the shadows bringing a new day to the world, its bright rays shining in through the windows, slowly chasing away the night. Soon the room was awash with the morning light, and a new portrait hung in the hallowed halls of Hogwarts.

A/N2: So this was fun. I hope you kiddies had fun with it as well. It's been brilliant writing this story, even if it did get stressful for a couple of chapters. And it feels fantastic to finally finish it and post it just a couple weeks short of the first anniversary of my posting of this story. I'm going to have other one-shots and the like that could possibly be slipped into this story of mine, but they won't have anything to do with this (i.e.: the will o' the wisps aren't going to be making any more appearances). Thank you again for reviewing or lurking, lovely readers.