-1DISCLAIMER: I do not own Harry Potter or any of the original characters or previous books!!! They belong to JKRowling and Warner Bros., Bloomsbury etc. As much as I really wish that I did own all of it, all I own is Jess and possibly more characters to come, and the plot of this fanfic! I'm just playing with the characters, no copyright infringement intended… yadda yadda.

A/N: So, this was originally posted under the name atropagranger, a very long time ago. It was originally called "EMANCIPATION," but I really dislike that name now so I changed it… I gave up on the story, because I didn't think anyone was enjoying it, hence the bitchy "no-ones reviewing, blah blah," at the bottom of each chapter :P

But after re-reading it for the first time in 2 years-ish last night, I decided to carry on, making it a little better. How touching. Enjoy.

ACCIDENTS
Chapter one:
Decisions.

Hermione reached over to her bedside table for her glasses. She still wasn't fully used to them, but the potions that she was still taking daily, as a result of that dreaded curse she was exposed to last year, had their side effects. One was permanently impairing her vision.
She sat upright in her bed, flicked on her light switch, and glared at herself in the mirror opposite her bed.
She sighed heavily.
At least they hide my crooked nose, she thought, for she fully detested her crooked side-profile. Her nose dented inwards just as it emerged from in between her eyes, and then the bone jutted outwards, creating a little lump just before the cartilage. The cartilage had a defined structure that ended in two rather conspicuous 'corners' above each of her nostrils. She liked her nose from the front, it was subtly long and thin-looking… but she had always been subconscious about her side-profile.
She reached under her bed and pulled out a parcel wrapped in red foil and embellished with gold ribbon. Taped to the side of it was a red envelope with the word 'Harry' written delicately on the front.
She obtained her quill, ink and some parchment from her dressing table that she used for homework, and plodded over to her bed. Looking over at her clock, she noticed it was twenty to midnight. She had five minutes to write her letter and send off his gift for it to arrive at his house in time… She knew he'd love his present.

Meanwhile, a tall, raven-haired boy lay awake in his bed in Little Whinging. He stared at the ceiling of his small room, whilst sub-consciously tapping the beat of a rather irritating song, that was stuck in his head, on the duvet cover. It made a soft 'scc- scc- scc-' noise each time one of his fingers touched the cotton in the deadly silence of the night. The moonlight danced through the gap in the curtain, casting a frail light upon his pale face. If he tilted his head a little, the shadows cast upon the ceiling contorted into some crude-looking letters.

He liked it, it happened every night. He'd squint and stare until he found a message. Usually they'd say something bland and insignificant like "door" or "happy mug". Once he'd seen his name, "Harry", but today the words spelt
'Help Helen…' he muttered.
He thought this was eerie and desisted his staring. Instead, he focused his view out of the gap in the curtains… He could see the faint silhouette of a lop-sided owl flying not-so-graciously towards his house.
He stood up and opened his window, so as not to make a racket if and when the owl flew into the glass.
The owl swooped in, flew round the room, dropping its parcel on the bed and then landing back on the windowsill, holding out its foot patiently, waiting for Harry to remove the letter.
He did so, and sat next to the parcel as the owl swooped away.
Hermione, he thought: recognising the insufferably neat, loopy writing on the letter. He eagerly tore off the envelope, indulging in the fact that one of his friends had finally decided to get in touch after a week of no letters.

Harry,
Happy Birthday! I got you this present because it reminded me of you so much- I bought it last year: you can't IMAGINE how tempted I have been to give it to you before your birthday… but you have to be of age to use it anyway… OOPS… giving away valuable clues, here! But still, never mind- you're opening it in a second anyway.
Harry, just a warning (it would be so much easier to give it to you in person!), this is very powerful. Use it if you are experiencing strong emotions that you can't handle! It also protects you if you 'wear it near your heart' like in a shirt pocket or something…
It really is VERY powerful, though- be careful with it.
I don't know if I should be giving it to you, really- but it can be our secret if you want…
Anyway. If I calculated correctly, this letter should arrive at exactly midnight: Your birthday! (duh!)
If you're wondering who's owl this is: it's mine. I went to Diagon Alley and completely fooled mum and dad into buying me one. I said they're almost compulsory. But never mind… I am going to leave either Crookshanks or Shae at home this year. I can't decide!
Umm… I really hope you like your present. Owl me back!

Love, Hermione. x
P.S. We need to get together at some point: I am going to Diagon Alley next Saturday. Perhaps you can make arrangements with Ron to get there, too? You need your school supplies. And I need to tell you how to use your present.

He looked at the clock on his bedside table. It was five past midnight, only just his birthday, but he wasn't going to rain on Hermione's parade that it didn't arrive exactly on time.
Harry hadn't heard from Ron all summer. He debated whether to owl him or not before settling on the answer 'no' and deciding to open Hermione's gift.
Firstly, he opened the card.
It seemed to have been made by Hermione herself: she was a rather talented artist. It was of a golden snitch grasped around Harry's hand, with Harry on his broomstick and a bludger hot on his tail. The snitch was bewitched to flutter, as did Harry's cloak and hair. It was rather good, actually… Well, excellent. The 'sunlight' was actually glinting off the snitch and his glasses- it almost looked like a picture.
He opened the card, and his eyes were met by that neat script once more.

Dear Harry,
Enjoy your day!

Happy Birthday and many happy returns!

Love, Hermione.

Harry adored his card. He stood it proudly on his bedside table, and shifted his attention to the red parcel. It was quite small, and decorated in the Gryffindor colours.
Quietly, as the foil made quite a loud 'rustle', he undid the neatly folded triangular flaps on either side, and pushed out the present from one side to the other. It was a small box, looking of extreme value, of gold, encrusted with rubies or garnets. On the side were the inscribed words of 'Recondo a diluo ab a animi.'
He quickly translated with his little knowledge of Latin, and figured out that it's inscription meant something along the lines of 'heart troubles storage', however, that didn't make sense.
He had learnt a brief knowledge of Latin over the summer, as a result of being bored stiff constantly- he had actually read a book Hermione had leant him; entitled 'the Structure of Spells', in which it concentrated on 'clauses of spells' and editing them. Mostly, it was a dangerous business; however Harry found it intriguing. Hermione had laughed at this and made a joke about how Harry thought dangerous meant a problem with his coffin at his funeral.
Harry wondered what the heck Hermione would give him a box to store a mobile coronary in for. He opened the box, which was about five centimetres each way, and glanced inside. It was lined with red velvet and seemed to have smaller-that-doll-sized furniture in it. It looked like a small room.
For once, Harry did not succumb to curiosity and instead placed the box next to his card, resting his head upon his pillow once more. His eyes glinted happily for the first time in months, and although he hadn't been away from the Dursleys all holiday, he was smiling. He had always kept regular contact with his friends- they would send him sweets and other things of interest to keep him going. They knew that this summer would be hard on him.
It made him feel better that Ron and Hermione hadn't seen each other all holiday; at least then he wasn't an outcast.
He picked up his torn card envelope and his neatly opened wrapping paper, along with his letter and its envelope, and pulled out a five-year-old shoebox he had managed to salvage from the Dursley's rubbish bin all those years ago. It was slightly battered, however, the word 'HERMIONE' still stood out boldly in blue ink.
He opened the box, revealing various wrapping paper, letters, notes, cards… All from Hermione, and he placed his newly acquired letter, envelopes and wrapping paper and ribbon on top of the bundle of keepsakes, replacing the lid and banishing the box safely to the farthest point he could reach under his bed.
There was no box entitled 'Ron'.

A.N: Okay, readers! What do you think? I have two more chapters to post so read them and review on the way if you like… But if you'd prefer to review all three then I'm not complaining. Haha.

Thanks for reading…

-without-tears-