Fate Has Its Reasons

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He gestured to himself. Blaise pretended not to have heard him. He probably didn't even care though. Draco and Blaise had common banter; insulting each other was their version of a conversation. It seemed to only strengthen their friendship. They had just started to walk towards the elevators at the other side of the office when a voice called them back.

Rushing up to them, his glasses lopsided, was the original Scarface himself, Harry Potter. Looking virtually unchanged, with his unkempt black hair, bright green eyes, and annoying scar, he handed a file to Blaise. Potter practically threw it into his hands, the Slytherin fumbling to catch it. Blaise looked confused, but shrugged, nodded and opened the file none the less.

Over the years, the two had learned to deal with each other, mainly because of Blaise. Their mutual friendship and respect for the moral Slytherin changed things. Blaise had told Draco once that Potter thought that since he was friends with Blaise, he wouldn't hate on Draco too much, emphasis on too much.

Potter was unwilling to cause friction between the two of them. Though the years of hatred could never be erased, Draco, though he would never admit it, was very thankful to Potter for saving his life in the final battle of Hogwarts. It had slightly lessened the quantity of annoyance Potter caused Draco. He had never really cared for small talk. He instead watched as Blaise eyes raced over the contents of the file, with Potter's anxious eyes never leaving his face.

Blaise looked like he wanted to refuse whatever Potter was asking. After a few seconds of looking over the boy who lived way more than expected, he sighed, obviously giving in, and nodded. Years with the pothead had made him soft, Draco reckoned. Potter smiled at Blaise, nodded at Draco, turned and left. Blaise looked after him, pity in his eyes. He then turned around and headed to the elevators, Draco trailing after him.

Once they were safely isolated from the rest of the ministry in an empty elevator, Draco turned to Blaise, his eyebrow raised questioningly. Ah yes, Draco nodded, fully understanding. She had been there by Potter's side up through the battle, fighting against evil, searching for horcruxes, helping the wounded. She had even been there as well in the immediate aftermath, making statements, cleaning up the world and helping Potter, who had seemed to go a little over the edge after killing the dark lord.

Draco had personally thought he was just overworked. Then, a week after the Dark Lord went six feet under, she had disappeared out of the blue. There was no trace of her anywhere. The Wizarding World had gone ballistic, understandably. Everyone had thought the dark side was dead and gone, never to question the light again. But then Hermione Granger, best friend of the chosen one, war heroine, and beacon of hope, disappeared from the face of the planet.

Potter, using the influence being the boy-who-lived came with, had splashed her face across every wizarding newspaper in the world. He had sent hundreds looking for her; she was practically his sister after all. Weasel King had been similarly distraught. After the war he had been helping out the same why Granger had been, but the second the bookworm had disappeared, he had locked himself up.

Your Destiny Is Determined by Your Decisions

He stayed in his pigsty of a house for months before emerging, and when he had emerged, he had been pale, sickly and skinny. The disappearance of his bookworm seemed to have sucked the life out of him. Potter had been very similar. It had taken the two of them years to begin living again. Actually, Draco wasn't even sure they had started to live again.

They had looked for her endlessly. The whole of society had looked all across the world for her, to no avail. Then here the world was, seven years later, no closer to finding her than the day she had disappeared.

Eventually, people had begun to forget about Hermione Granger. She had been gone for so long that people did a little double take if her name was mentioned. The case was still open, Blaise was the head of it, but there was never any news. Hermione Granger was gone, physically and spiritually. Draco hadn't even really thought about the bookworm in years.

The elevator had stopped. The two of them walked out into the atrium. It's been too long.

I doubt we'll ever find her. Blaise shook his head. He can't lose her. Draco nodded, somewhat understanding Potter's predicament. Potter had lost practically everyone he had ever loved, his parents, his godfather, professor Lupin, Dumbledore. He couldn't stand to lose his best friend as well. Even though the truth was that he had probably lost her the second she had disappeared. Blaise nodded, still looking a little low. Draco knew that Blaise felt terrible for his friend.

Draco smiled hopefully, gesturing Blaise into a fireplace, floo-powdering away. Hopefully, in a few drinks, Blaise would be the happy teddy bear he usually was. Just In All Stories: Story Story Writer Forum Community. For that was the one mystery left after the war: She had been there by Potter's side all throughout the battle.

Then after it was over she disappeared. No one could find her. No one knew where she was. Draco Malfoy hadn't even thought about Hermione Granger in years, until one day when he was given no other choice. When Draco had confronted him about it, Blaise had simply said, " I don't want to be a death-eater like the rest of you.

Blaise was so predictable. Blaise rolled his eyes. Blaise sighed and shook his head. The author would like to thank you for your continued support. Your review has been posted. Actions Add to Community Report Abuse. No one can and no one may. We ourselves must walk the path. I can decide how I spend my time, whom I interact with, whom I share my body and life and money and energy with. I can select what I can read and eat and study. I can choose how I'm going to regard unfortunate circumstances in my life-whether I will see them as curses or opportunities.

I can choose my words and the tone of voice in which I speak to others. And most of all, I can choose my thoughts.

You make choices everyday but you may not even know it

The curves of your lips rewrite history. We have to make them ourselves. We do not find the meaning of life by ourselves alone - we find it with another.

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You are caught in a current much stronger than you are; struggle against it and you'll drown not just yourself but those who try to save you. Then Albert straightened up and said, "Damned if I know. Probably they get answers, and serve 'em right.

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