Disclaimer: I, in no way own Harry Potter or any of the characters in this story. I have just borrowed them. This story also contains adult situations, language, and themes. Read at your own risk.

Make Me Stronger

It was over. Just as simple as that. The war was over. Of course no one really had time to sit down and think about that. In fact most were still fighting off death eaters, mending wounds, crying, or trying to just survive. Actually no one had really thought about after. Sure many had pondered what would happen if Voldemort or Harry would win but no one really plans for these things.

So what to do now? How do you go on from here, especially when your whole life, it seems has been in preparation for a moment that has now come and gone?

Well this is a story of that. This is the story of witches and wizards trying to survive tomorrow, or the wizarding world moving toward yesterday. This is a story of what doesn't kill you only makes you're strong.

Every day was exactly the same. At exactly 4:45 in the morning, Hermione's alarm clock would go off and she would start her day. Most people would roll over and smack the thing awake, but not Hermione-she was a creature of habit and this was just her regular routine.

At 5:30, after a quick stretch, Hermione started on her run. The minute she stepped of the house, a simple stone cottage, Hermione was glad she put a sweater on. Even though it was September, she could tell that autumn was fast approaching. Hermione didn't care though; the air was crisp, a mystical mist surrounded the rolling hills and the sun was just starting to peak. Hermione loved this time of day. Nothing in the world but her feet hitting the familiar pavement and the reward of jogging toward nothing.

After returning home, stretching out, showering and dressing, Hermione entered her kitchen to grab a quick bite to eat before heading to work.

At 8:30 Hermione entered the lobby of the Ministry of Magic. Since it was still early, the area wasn't that crowed yet but witches and wizard that were standing about glanced her way as she pasted. After six years she still received looks of awe. By now, she was used to it but it still freaked her out.

Ignoring the attention, Hermione went up to the fifth floor, the Auror Headquarters and entered her office. Hermione's office was organized, stiff, and formal, just like she was most of the time. The furniture was dark, and the walls were filled with books-just how she liked it. Hermione sat behind her desk, breathed a deep breathe and then set about getting to work.

You see, Hermione loved routine. She was one of those people that took comfort in the every day things, in knowing what was there and what was boring. After so many years of following her best friend, Harry Potter around, she was through with a life of intrigue.

Back to her day though, this is what she did, every day- and she loved it. She got up, she ran, breakfast and then work. She was a top Investigative Auror at the Ministry of Magic which meant she assigned case work, reviewed cases, did paperwork, and some times, though very rarely visited crime scenes. Most of the time the scene was brought to her and she solved it in the safety and comfort of her office at the Ministry or at home. Her job also only required her to work from nine to five, Monday through Friday, unless there was an emergency.

She loved it though. She learned new and exciting things every day and she used her smarts to put bad guys away. She also got the privilege of using the Ministries labs, which means that she got to help and experiment with new potions, spells, cures, and magic whenever the chance came up. Everything was going her way.

Everything except the fact that she was still single, and though she wouldn't admit it out loud, Hermione was lonely. Her last relationship was four years ago with Ron Weasely. After the war they tried to be there for each other, and they were but their passion for one another just wasn't meant for each other.

Hermione didn't dwell of this of course; she ignored it and dived straight into her work, like always.

"Good morning Hermione," said her secretary, who entered her office at nine to bring her, her tea and to discuss the work for the day.

"Morning Janet. What's today look like?"

Ginny was more of a free spirit. Not that she didn't get up in the morning, who couldn't after living with "rise and shine Granger" for four years, but she didn't run and she didn't head of to work with a smile on her face. Ginny usually had a lie in until about nine every morning and then dragged her still tried butt into the kitchen to get some coffee.

If her brothers could see her they'd laugh at her appearance. She was wearing men's boxers, a white tank and her long red hair was sticking up all over the place. Trudging into the kitchen, Ginny made herself a cup of coffee, silently thanked Hermione for making again in her head, and then grabbed her robe by the back door to head out into the morning.

Sitting down on the red and white stripped patio couch that sat on the covered porch, Ginny shivered at the temperature, even though the sun was shinning brilliantly. Closing her eyes, Ginny mentally called for a warming spell and smiled when she felt the warmth of it on her skin. Opening her eyes again, Ginny enjoyed listening to the sounds of the morning while she drank her coffee and smoked a cigarette.

After finishing her smoke, Ginny reentered the house and headed back to her bedroom to take a shower, brush her hair and teeth and change into a pair of cut off shorts and a new white tank. Barefoot, Ginny grabbed a hair band off her dresser before walking upstairs while securing her hair on the top of her head.

Here, this was Ginny's work. The attic loft was open, airy, warm with the morning sun, and covered with art supplies. While Hermione spent her day managing and investigating, Ginny spent hers painting, drawing, and taking pictures. After the war Ginny started seeing a therapist to help her deal with the trauma. There, her therapist recommended that Ginny find an outlet to all her anger, pain, hurt, and fear. At first Ginny didn't know what the quack was talking about, but after a little urging from Hermione Ginny tried to write down her thoughts-and instead ended up drawing on of the deepest pieces Hermione had ever seen. Ginny was hooked.

Originally though, Ginny was only painting for her own sanity but one day, a friend of Bill's came to the Burrow and when he saw one of Ginny's paintings over the fireplace, he asked to buy it. Of course Ginny told him no, her work was quite personal but after discussing it with her family, and the promise of a lot of money Ginny let it go- and she's be going none stop. Not only was she very successful but she had the luxury of doing was she wanted. No schedules or time tables for Ginny, just herself and her art. There was a freedom there that put her troubled heart at ease.

Sitting down at her easel, Ginny looked at the un-finished piece and decided that today was the day she was finishing. Smiling, she picked up her brush and began.