Disclaimer: Harry Potter and Co. are property of the great J.K. Rowling, I just borrow them for fun, but I don't earn anything… I swear.

A/N: Oh, well, I really hope that you all like this story. It's the first time that I write a sequel, so I hope I won't disappoint you. This story is a tad more adventurous than "I Will Remember You", and sadder too. Well, I didn't invent the Isle of Drear or the Quintapeds, for who is wondering, you can find all that in "Fantastic Beast and Where To Find Them". I hope that the names are right, because I only have the Italian version of that book. Well… enjoy the chapter!

To Danii: Oh, thanks so much for all your nice comments and for your help. You are such a wonderful beta-reader.

Decisions

Harry opened his eyes as the sun hit his face. He looked around in the seventh year Gryffindor dorm, and saw that it was empty. He stretched an arm to the bed that he had moved next to his. "Hermione?" he called sleepily.

No one answered. He searched for his glasses on the bedside table, put them on and raised his head to have a better look around.

"Hermione?" he called. Her bed was already made.

Still, no answer. He pulled off the sheets and put his bare feet on the floor. He stretched his arms above his head, and walked lazily towards the bathroom. He took a quick shower and changed from his pyjamas into a pair of jeans and a shirt. He climbed down the stairs that led to the common room.

"Hermione?" he called for the third time.

But, again, nobody answered.

Harry sighed heavily and headed for the portrait hole.

"Good morning," the Fat Lady greeted him.

"Good morning," he answered politely. "Have you seen Hermione?"

The Fat Lady smiled. "Actually, I did. She exited the common room this morning. She is a morning person."

Harry nodded. "Didn't she tell you where she was going?" he asked hopefully.

The Fat Lady shook her head. "No, why should she do something like that?"

Harry shrugged his shoulders. "And you didn't ask her?"

She glared at him from her portrait. "What do you think? That I don't have anything better to do than mind everybody's business?" she snapped.

Harry was going to say yes, but he thought he should keep his mouth shut. After all, the Fat Lady was his only access to the dorms. "No, of course you don't," he said, trying to sound sincere.

The Fat Lady smiled graciously. "If I were you, I would try the grounds."

"The grounds?"

"She was wearing her trainers and a coat," said the Fat Lady.

"Thank you," said Harry, hurrying down the stairs that led to the first floor. He passed by the door of the Great Hall and glanced in. Filch was having his breakfast.

"Potter," he called when he saw Harry. "Get over here."

Harry mentally cursed himself for having left his father's Cloak at the Leaky Cauldron.

"What?" he asked warily as he entered the Great Hall.

"The fact that I allow you and your friend to stay here doesn't mean that I'm willing to have too many people around," he said, swallowing a piece of toast.

Harry sighed. He said that every single morning. "Okay. Can I go now?" he asked.

"Do you know what time your friend come down those stairs?" he asked him with his yellow eyes boring into Harry.

Harry shook his head.

"At six in the morning," he said stressing the 'six'. "Does she think that she's here all alone?"

Harry sighed again. "Did she make a lot of noise?" he asked calmly.

"She woke me up," Filch snapped.

"Listen, Filch, why don't you change bedrooms?" asked Harry hopefully. He was sure Filch had already been awake when Hermione came down the stairs, as she hadn't made any sound at all. He must have waited for her to come down with his ear pressed to the door of his bedroom.

"No," he retorted. "She has to make less noise."

"I'll tell her, all right?" said Harry, starting to walk away.

"And tell her that you two are not welcome here," he shouted after him.

Harry rolled his eyes as he approached the great oak doors that led to the grounds of Hogwarts. As he exited, the cold October morning air hit his face. He shivered and shrugged his shoulders, thinking he should have worn something warmer.

He glanced at the grounds around the castle, and finally spotted Hermione. She sat near Hagrid's hut, with a book opened in her lap. Harry would have bet his wand that the book was 'Hogwarts: A History'.

He walked towards her. She was so focused on her reading that she didn't even notice he was there.

"Filch complained that you made lots of noise this morning," he said.

Hermione looked up and smiled. "Did you believe him?" she asked.

"Do you think I'm that stupid?" he replied, sitting down next to her. "What are you reading?"

"'Hogwarts: A History'," she answered, showing him the cover of the huge book she was holding.

"How can you hold it? I'm sure it's heavier than you," he said, taking the tome into his hands.

Hermione smiled. "The weight of the culture," she answered, stretching an arm towards him to take it back. Harry moved it away.

"Harry," said Hermione, half-smiling. "Give it back."

"Take it," he said, moving it a little higher, so that Hermione couldn't reach it. She stretched out her arm again, passing in front of Harry and brushing his cheek with her hair. When she was almost going to reach the book, Harry moved it away a little further and at the same time he slid his hand behind her back and pressed on her waist. Hermione shrieked and sat on Harry's lap.

"That's not fair," she said, laughing.

"It is," said Harry, starting to tickle her.

"No, Harry please, stop it," she said, pushing him away playfully.

"What, Miss. Granger? Please don't stop? Of course I won't!" said Harry, tickling her even more.

"No, Harry, please stop," she repeated, laughing hard.

Harry stopped and looked at her.

"You are evil," she joked, blocking his hands. Harry smiled and moved his arms, trying to free himself from Hermione's grasp.

"Let me go, Hermione," he said, smiling.

"What do you want to do?" she asked him, trying not to burst into laughter.

"You'll see," he said softly.

Hermione let his arms go and Harry moved his right hand towards her face and seized her chin gently. He bent his head and pressed his lips against hers. He felt that she was smiling, and then she kissed him back. After what seemed ages, he let her go.

"So, what were you saying about Filch?" she asked him, leaning her head next to his and hugging him.

"He said that you made a lot of noise this morning, and he said we're not welcome here," said Harry, brushing Hermione's curls away from his face.

"Nice of him," said Hermione sarcastically.

"As always," answered Harry, shrugging.

"I've been thinking, Harry," she said seriously.

"About what?" he asked.

"Remember last month? The day after we came back from the battleground?"

"The day after you gained your memory."

Hermione nodded. "Remember when we talked near the lake?"

Harry nodded. He remembered pretty well; that day marked the beginning of his new life with Hermione.

"You said that we would leave, that we wouldn't stay here forever."

"I know."

"Then, why are we still here?" she asked, looking into the eyes. "Why didn't we leave?"

Harry shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know."

"Harry, I want to leave," she said simply.

Harry smiled. "Where do you want to go?"

"You said that they buried all the people that died in the Last Battle in the Isle of Drear. I want to go there," she said quietly.

"The Isle of Drear?" asked Harry, confused. "Why?"

"I want to see where and how they buried all the brave people that fought against Voldemort. Don't you feel the urge to pay homage to them?" she asked him, getting off his lap.

Harry looked at her. "I don't know. I don't even know if it's possible to get there."

Hermione looked at him intently. "Harry. Ron, Ginny and all our friends are there. Don't you want to go there and see if they received a proper burial?"

"I'm sure they did," said Harry darkly, getting up and brushing some grass off his jeans.

Hermione looked at him intently. "Why don't you want to leave?" she asked him.

He started to walk back to the castle. "Tell me that you want to visit your parents, tell me that you want to go to Diagon Alley, even tell me that you want to go to the Ministry of Magic, and I'll follow you. But I don't want to waste my time on visiting a graveyard," he said harshly.

"What are you afraid of?" she questioned him.

"Nothing," he said, stopping and turning to face her.

"Then why don't you want to go?"

"They are dead, Hermione. What use will there be in going there?"

"Civilized people usually visit their dead."

"I won't be civilized, then," said Harry, turning again and walking faster towards Hogwarts.

"You are talking nonsense," she snapped as they reached the oak door.

"I don't want to come, is that so difficult for you to understand?" he asked her.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Yes."

"I won't come," he snapped again, starting to climb up the stairs.

"Ron is buried there, don't you want to-"

"Is it just for that you want to go there?" he cried, stopping abruptly and turning to face her. "Just because you want to see Ron?"

Hermione looked at him. "You're not jealous, are you? Because you know that Ron is dead, right?"

Harry lowered his eyes. "I know," he said softly. "I'm sorry."

Hermione bit her bottom lip. "It's okay. It's just that I don't understand why you don't want to go there."

"I don't know," he said softly. "Maybe I don't want to remember the past."

Hermione took a step towards him and climbed another stair. She twined her arm around his waist and pressed closer to him. "You can't forget your past," she whispered.

"I don't want to forget the past, but I don't want to remember it either."

"Harry, I don't want to force you to do anything, but it's very important to me," she said.

Harry sighed and smiled. "Okay, if it's really important for you I'll come, but I don't want to see you crying on their graves."

Hermione smiled back at him. "I swear I won't cry."

He took her face between his hands and kissed her gently. "When do you want to leave?"

"Are you two leaving?"

Both Harry and Hermione turned their heads to face Filch, who was looking at them with hope gleaming in his eyes.

"Yes," said Harry, rolling his eyes.

"What wonderful news," said Filch, clapping his hands. "When?"

"As soon as we're ready," snapped Hermione.

"If you need a hand with packing, just let me know," Filch said quickly.

Hermione sighed in exasperation. "No, thanks. It won't take too much. Let's go, Harry." She took Harry's hand and guided him upstairs.

"I'll be ready in a minute," she said, heading for the girls' dorm.

"What? A minute? Are we going to leave now?" he asked her.

Hermione nodded. "There's no point in staying here. We don't do anything useful and Filch hates us."

"Wait a minute," he said, holding her back. "How are we supposed to get there? May I remind you our destination is an island?"

"We can use the flying car," said Hermione briskly.

Harry looked at her and raised his eyebrows. "How long have you planned this?" he asked.

"I didn't plan anything," she replied. "You ask, I answer."

Harry nodded. "I'll go and pack then."

Hermione smiled and headed for the girls' dorm, while Harry climbed up the stairs that led to the boys' dorm. Hermione slept every night with Harry in the boys' dormitory. Harry had moved Ron's bed next to his, so they would be comfortable, but she kept her clothes in the wardrobe in her old dormitory. It took them very little time to collect all their belongings. They just consisted of some clothes and their wands. They used the enchanted backpack that they had already utilized during their travel from the Leaky Cauldron to Hogwarts.

"We should pass by the kitchen," suggested Hermione as they met up in the common room. "We'll need some food for the trip."

"Yes, and we should say goodbye to Dumbledore's and McGonagall's portraits as well," Harry pointed out. Hermione nodded.

They went downstairs, told the password to the gargoyle statue that led to the Heads' office, and climbed up the stairs till they reached the circular room. They looked at the portraits. They were all asleep, and they seemed very peaceful. Harry cleared his throat.

Professor McGonagall muttered something in her sleep while her hat slipped slowly down her head. Professor Dumbledore turned his head and started to snore.

Harry cleared his throat again, a little bit louder.

"Excuse us, professors," said Hermione loudly.

Dumbledore muttered something, but then he finally woke up. "Yes?" he asked groggily.

"We wanted to inform you that we are leaving," said Hermione clearly.

Dumbledore looked at them for a long moment without understanding. "What?" he asked eventually. "You are leaving? To go where?"

"The Isle of Drear," answered Harry.

Dumbledore looked at them with his eyebrows raised, then he turned towards Professor McGonagall's portrait and stretched out an arm, which disappeared out of the frame of his picture and appeared in McGonagall's.

"Minerva, wake up," he said, shaking her shoulder gently. "Harry and Hermione are leaving."

Professor McGonagall jumped out of her armchair. "I'm up," she said, arranging her hat. "What were you saying?"

Professor Dumbledore nodded towards Harry and Hermione. "They are leaving, Minerva. They said that they are going to the Isle of Drear."

"The Isle of Drear?" asked Professor McGonagall, her eyes wide. "Didn't you learn anything at school with Professor Binns? No, I guess you didn't Potter. Miss Granger, however, I would have expected more sense from. The Isle of Drear is infested by Quintapeds."

"Actually professor, I knew that." Hermione looked at Harry. "Both of us knew that."

"Then why do you want to commit suicide?" asked Professor McGonagall calmly.

"We don't want to commit suicide," said Harry, smiling. "The Quintapeds have been swept away with the wave of power that destroyed everything after the Last Battle."

"Oh," was all Professor McGonagall could say. "Then why do you want to go there?"

"They used that island to bury everyone that died in the Last Battle," explained Hermione.

"Like a graveyard?" asked McGonagall.

"Something like that, I guess," said Harry. "I don't know anybody that's been there, so I don't know how it will be."

Dumbledore moved his half-moon glasses up his nose. "You know," he started, "when I was in that hut after the Last Battle, I heard the Ministry employees who picked me up say they had also buried Voldemort there."

"What?" asked Harry, taken aback. "Voldemort?"

Dumbledore nodded. "I don't know why they did something like that. If I were them, I would have burned his corpse. No one knows how the evil would spread."

"What do you mean?" asked Hermione.

"I mean that Voldemort is dead, but who knows what has become of all the evilness that he had in him," said Dumbledore, sighing.

Harry and Hermione exchanged looks.

"But I could always be wrong," said Dumbledore. "I hope you'll have a nice trip, though," he added before falling asleep again.

"Thanks," muttered Harry and Hermione.

"And if you find my grave, look if they wrote my name the right way," said Professor McGonagall before she, too, fell asleep.

Harry and Hermione looked at each other and exited the office, paying attention to making as less noise as they could.

"What do you think he meant with 'no one knows how the evil would spread'?" asked Hermione, concerned.

"I don't know," answered Harry. "But, Voldemort is dead. Of that I'm sure, and I don't think that he will be able to harm us in any way."

Hermione nodded. "But if you don't want to come with me I can under-"

Harry placed a finger over her lips. "And you reckon that I'll send you all alone? Don't even think something like that," he said.

"Thanks," said Hermione gratefully.

Harry smiled.

They climbed down the stairs to the kitchen and took as much food as they managed to find. Then they came back to the Great Hall, where Filch was sitting on the Headmaster's chair and talking to himself.

Harry cleared his throat. "We're leaving now."

Filch looked at them and then something that looked almost like a smile spread across his face. "Wonderful," he said, "No one will wake me up again at six in the morning, no one will disturb me when I'm speaking all alone in my castle. No one-"

"Okay, we got the point," Harry interrupted. "See you soon, then," he added, seizing Hermione's arm and dragging her towards the door while Filch's wheezy voice followed them. "Soon? What do you mean about soon?"

They exited and looked around. "Where was the Flying Car the last time we saw it?" asked Harry.

"Two days ago. It was near Hagrid's hut," said Hermione, searching for it in the hut's direction. "Look! There it is," she said, pointing a finger towards the Forest.

"Let's go," said Harry. And they both started to walk down the grounds, towards the Ford Anglia, who didn't move from its place. They sat on the car and Harry started up the engine. They levitated some feet from the ground, and started to fly north, both of them with a dreadful premonition in their hearts. But they didn't give a thought to it. After all, what was a premonition? Sybill Trelawney always had terrible presentiments and they never came true, did they?