Hermione cast the simple spell wandlessly and silently though she mouthed the Macedonian word. It had taken months of practice, but it was worth it. She felt the spell settle over her and knew the bullies would run passed her. She just needed to stay still.

She had to be careful with magic. Her parents thought there was an explanation for everything that happened, especially now that she'd gained control of most of the wildness of it. They saw what they wanted to see. Strangers might not be so quick to excuse the odd things they witnessed. Viktor had explained it to her in her dreams. There were rules. He'd explained to her that adult wizards would enforce the rules.

She liked rules. They made things easier, bit she didn't like adults enforcing them much. She always seemed to get punished for others misbehavior. If Nigel cornered her and took her pencil, he whined to the teacher, and she was punished for not sharing. It seemed to be the way things went, and wizards might try to take her magic or stop her sharing her dreams with Viktor. She clenched her fists. No one could take her Viktor away.

Viktor spent hours teaching her how to protect herself. Her parents thought he was her imaginary friend. They also thought she was too old for an imaginary friend and her belief in magic would fade if they gave her enough books about science. She had a huge library of science books for a seven year old.

"Where'd she go?" One of the older boys snarled as he stalked passed her again. The others trailed behind him. "Too smart for her on good and in need of a lesson."

"She's gotten good at giving us the slip." The smallest of them looked around. "It's like she disappears."

"Found a good hidey hole most likely." The third boy shrugged. "She ain't good for much. All she's ever got are carrot sticks and books."

They wandered off looking for new victims. Hermione counted to one hundred in Greek. She relaxed and moved quickly toward her home. The ward stones she'd set would keep her safe there. She jogged passed manicured lawns and perfectly shaped trees to her own house. It was much like all the others, but as she stepped onto path to her door, the welcome tingle of the wards washed over her.

She sprawled in the perfect grass and stared up at the specks of blue breaking through the common grey of the clouds. She drew in deep breaths and let her senses range out. She felt the pulse of magic from all around her. She closed her eyes and used it to orient herself. Keeping her promise to hone her skills and practice her control everyday was easy. Viktor was in his first year at boarding school. He had a wand now, but he still made time to keep strong. She sighed.

Durmstrang. One of the three major European schools of magic. Viktor's current residence. He'd been showing her some of it in their dreams, but they both preferred to tour his home as they shared what little they could.

"Hermione Jean, time to stop dreaming the day away and study." Her mother's voice rang out and pushed away thoughts of Viktor.

"Yes, Mum." Hermione pushed up from the ground and ran toward house. She needed to do her homework. She darted in through the front door.

Viktor sat quietly and listened as his astronomy teacher droned on about things he'd learned at his mother's knee. Even Hermione knew this. He'd taught her.

He shifted in his seat. These late night lessons kept him from her. He sighed. The link between them was strong but limited. They shared only those few minutes when their dreams linked.

He couldn't reveal their bond. It was a precious thing. His father had told him to guard it well. Durmstrang was a place of great knowledge, but flexibility was not one of the school's defining characteristics. His Hermione would never be welcomed.

Only those of pure blood were accepted or truly tolerated. There were set disciplines and only one method was taught. Most of his fellow students were wholly dependent on their wands. Rune work and wandless magic were considered difficult skills to master. It made no sense to him. He'd been taught runes from his earliest days. Hermione was doing both with little to no guidance. She'd tamed her mind and honed her focus, as he had. Perhaps these pampered wizards weren't capable. He sighed. It didn't serve him to dwell on it.

Her eighth birthday was just days away and he'd managed to save enough coin for an international post owl. He patted his pocket where her present lay and cut across the crisp grass. The Owlery was deserted at this time of night.

Nigella Granger watched her daughter sit alone in the back garden with a book. She hadn't wanted a party. Not that she had many friends. It was hard to be four years younger than your classmates.

She glanced at the cake she'd had the bakery make and felt the responsibility of this lonely girl's life rest on her shoulders. She'd agreed to push her forward in school. She'd agreed to try to stop her daughter's day dreaming. When had a birthday cake become an unusual luxury? When had an imagination become a burden?

She looked at the cake. Her husband was sure to complain. She clenched her fists at her sides and stomped over to the cupboard. She yanked out the gift she'd been planning to return. She looked into the gift bag and smiled down at the bay winged horse stuffed toy. It wasn't pink or something else ridiculous.

She froze as she heard the side door open. Her husband came in and stopped and stared at the cake with a sheepish expression. He lifted a box in the air.

"Cupcakes with rainbow sprinkles." He sighed. "I picked up those Narnia books, too. She was crying the other night when she thought we were asleep. I want her to be happy. I want her to smart and well adjusted, but I think she needs to be happy first."

"I think so, too." Nigella cupped her husband's cheek in her hand, running her thumb along his cheek bone gently. "Let's call her in and see what she wants for dinner."

They turned toward the large picture window to see a giant Ural owl land next to her and offer up a small parcel that was attached to its foot.