A/N. I've got quite a few chapters mapped out, so thankfully my muse is still here, with me. A fair warning: this will be no super!Harry story, nor will he build himself a harem. At least in the beginning, there will be only a little romance. My Harry is almost the same fourteen-year old, somewhat insecure, maybe slightly above-average skilled wizard as in the books, but the events of the past three years didn't pass him without leaving a trace on him.

Being a relative newcomer in the magical world, I guess I still marvelled at small, everyday things magic could do that a Longbottom, a Weasley or a Malfoy would have considered mundane. The view opening before my eyes, however, would have forced any member of those old purebold families gasp in awe just like me, I was pretty sure of that.

The ornate door that just had appeared from nowhere led to an antechamber, maybe 60 by 20 feet in size. On the left side a quite a few bookshelves, heavily loaded with books of different sizes, colours and age, stood against the wall. Three desks with comfortable chairs were placed in front of the bookshelves and, against the right wall, a round table with four chairs was seen. The grey, aged limestone wall opposite the entrance featured five doors, four normal-sized, heavy oaken ones and one smaller. Walking up close, I was suprised to see shining bronze nameboards in fine calligraphy on four of them. "Harry Potter", "Hermione Granger", "Nymphadora Tonks", "Dobby", I read aloud. The fifth door was unmarked; upon peeking inside I was greeted with the sight of a huge bathroom with all conveniences. How very convenient indeed.

I was only the slightest bit surprised when, out of nothing, my old acquaintance, the somewhat deranged, otherwise loyal house elf appeared and immediately launched himself at me, hugging my legs.

"Harry Potter Sir has called Dobby and Dobby has come to help!" he exclaimed happily.

I knelt down, having succesfully peeled his arms off myself.

"Dobby, my friend, I haven't called you, but I am glad to see you."

He nodded profusely. "Dobby knows about someone entering Harry Potter Sir into Tournament. Someone wants to harm Harry Potter Sir."

I grimaced at the elf. "Yeah, Dobby, I already realized as much." I glanced around the room. "Can you tell me where we are?"

"Oh yes, Dobby can tell Harry Potter Sir. This is the the Come-and-go Room, wizards call it the Room of Requirements. It appears when the wizard needs something and walks past the hidden door three times thinking of his needs. Mistress Rowena built this room a long time ago, spent two years casting her magic, she did."

"So, you want to say, that I needed a place to sleep tonight and the magic of the castle made it up exactly as I needed?"

"Harry Potter Sir is right. Harry Potter Sir needed a place to stay and sleep, because many students didn't like Harry Potter Sir being chosen for Tournament."

It felt somewhat awkward being addressed this way just about ten times in the past few minutes. I carefully voiced my opinion to the elf. "Dobby, do you think you could call me simply Harry? I am not your master; I would rather like to consider us friends."

"Dobby can do that, Harry Potter Sir... Harry," the elf gave in.

"Okay, Dobby, that's a good start, I guess. So can you explain to me why these additional doors are there and why are these nameboards on the doors?"

"The castle made those rooms for Miss Hermione Granger and Miss Nymphadora Tonks, your closest friend and your closest family member. Miss Tonks will also be able to provide you protection."

"And you, Dobby? How do you come into the picture?" I already understood the logic behind this; I guess I was curious how the elf himself saw the situation. "I hope you are here both as friend and family?"

"Dobby is honoured," the elf said simply. "Not many wizards would call a simple house-elf a friend."

"Well, we have a long history together," I smiled at Dobby, "and you did try to protect me in second year, even though my uncle didn't like your idea of protecting me by throwing a pie at the head of his boss' wife."

"Dobby did what Dobby had to do," the elf answered as-a-matter-of-factly. " Still being in bad Master's employ, Dobby couldn't reveal bad Master's plan to you, so Dobby had to do everything in order to prevent you coming back to Hogwarts."

"But I did come back, no thanks to you, and you had to improvise. You still saved me from Malfoy Sr., so let's call it even. So you mean I don't have to go back to Gryffindor Tower and I can stay here? I really don't want to breathe the same air as Weasley at this point. That would be awesome!"

"Of course you can stay here. The Come-and-Go Room will provide you with everything you need except food."

"Awesome!" I exclaimed again, pulling open the leftmost door with my nameboard on it. The room behind the door bore a lot of similarities to my dorm in Gryffindow Tower. I guess the magic of the Room of Requirement understood that I liked my dorm well enough, so it tried to recreate the familar environment except the loud snoring and continuous farting of the Walking Stomach. Same colours, same furniture, same comfortable four-poster, same window opening at the panorama of Black Lake. Even my Hogwarts trunk was there and, upon randomly opening a cupboard, I was surprised to find a few new sets of Muggle clothes as well as my Hogwarts robes and Quidditch gear in it. No Dudley leftovers, even those I hadn't burned yet were gone. An elegant Muggle suit with a very light blue long-sleeve shirt, matching tie and shiny black shoes; a few pairs of jeans – dark blue and back, T-shirts, hoodies, sweatshirts, a winter coat and two or three pairs of sports shoes - I could get used to it, I thought.

Suddenly, a noise took my attention; something knocking on glass. Turning towards the window again, I caught sight of a huge barn owl holding a small envelope in its beak. I opened the window – even if created by magic, the chill of the October night and the owl flying to circles around my head were, in fact, very much real. Landing on the small desk, the messenger opened its beak, letting the envelope fall on the polished surface. Out of nothing, a small plate with a few owl treats materialized on the desk and I fed a few to the majestuous animal. Letting him out of the window, I looked down at the Black Lake for a few moments, my nostrils drawing in the chilly air of the night of Samhain, then closed the window and joined Dobby at the table again, opening the parchment. In neat, female handwriting with carefully rounded letters, it read:

"Harry,

First of all, I would have considered you an idiot if you had put your name into the Goblet. I guess, this is just another way of saying that I believe you. Not many of us do right now, even your own house seems to have been divided. Never thought Weasley would be one of them, though. It served him right, the lesson you gave him, but I can't help but think you'd gone too soft on the prat and he would have deserved a stiff beating. Anyway, you put up a good show but I guess you must feel as if it were year two all over again. I'm really sorry for that.

Just spoke with Auntie. Kingsley dropped by half an hour ago, unexpected, and told her of your summons. He was royally pissed, but so was Auntie once she had reviewed Kingsley's memories and notes. She's going to assign some Auror to you as protective detail, expect an official letter tomorrow first thing in the morning.

Keep your head up and good luck. You have more friends than you think, even outside Gryffindor.

Susan"

Now, this was a surprise. I can't say I had spoken more than 20 words with the otherwise rather attractive strawberry blonde Hufflepuff, these past three years, but her letter was a clear proof of Hufflepuff loyalty. I made a mental note to thank her for the letter and her support first thing in the morning. "Auntie" was of course Amelia Bones, Head of DMLE, who brought up Susan after her parents had been killed, and the extremely heavy weight on my heart seemed to lessen, just the slightest bit; it was nice to have some support from above. Taking the nameboard on the third door into consideration, I already knew who my protective detail would be and I couldn't say I was too unhappy with this arrangement. I knew, however, that in the morning I should play my part convincingly and look at least somewhat surprised when the shit would hit the fan.

All in all, I wasn't even surprised when the second door opened and my bushy-haired friend exited her room, pyjama, bathrobe and towel in her hands, only to drop everything on the floor and jump at me, her fierce hug threatening to break my ribs, one for one, when she caught sight of me

"Oh, Harry," she sobbed against my chest, "I was looking for you in the Common Room, even your dorm, but nobody knew where you'd gone to! Somebody wants to kill you and I'm so afraid!"

"Tell me something new," I tried to crack a joke, soothingly rubbing her back. "Shhh, we'll figure it out, don't worry."

"Harry," she raised her tear-stained doe-eyes, "this Tournament is dangerous. Whoever did this, he wants to do you in for good. I have read, of course, the Tournament rules, and being chosen as Champion is a magically binding contract. You have no choice but to compete, otherwise you'll lose your magic."

"Yeah, word for word what Barty Crouch told us," I cast a wry grimace, silently enjoying her warm closeness and tightened my embrace around her.

She took a deep breath, trying to compose herself. " I don't know how, as of yet, but I will do everything I can so that you'd survive, even if we're only fourth year."

My thumb gently brushed over her cheek. "Hogwarts didn't know what hit her when the hat sorted Hermione Granger into Gryffindor."

She balled her hand into a small fist and hit me on my upper arm. "You daft prat." Her tears were gone, however, and the corners of her mouth were curling upward.

"Ouch, woman," I tried to look hurt. "Now you have to kiss it better."

I almost missed the momentary expression of slight shock on her face. Then, she unexpectedly leaned in and planted a light kiss on my lips. Now it was my turn to be shocked as I stood there, my feet rooted into the ground.

"Don't get used to it," she warned me playfully, turning to the elf. "Hello Dobby."

"Hello, Miss Hermione Granger," Dobby beamed.

"Erm... Hermione?" She offered.

"It takes some nudging, Hermione, but he'll get around, " I interjected, trying to clear my mind from the sudden pink haze and its somewhat confused state. "So, how did you get here?" I picked up her clothes from the floor. I demonstratively turned my head away from the sight of the white lacy undergarment in the small bundle as I handed it over to her; somehow I knew, though, that I had made some good impression on her with being considerate even if her attractive features were slightly flushed.

"I was preparing to get a shower before going to bed," she nodded thankfully, relieving me of her belongings and hiding them behind her back. "On my way to the bathroom I saw a door form on the wall. My damned Gryffindor curiosity took over, so I just opened it and stepped across and found myself in this other bedroom. I saw Lavender trying to follow me but the door just disappeared right in front of her nose. Rather comical situation, actually. Come, look."

We went up to her door and she opened it, pointing inside. "Exact copy of my bedroom at home. Even my TV, CD-player and computer are here; they won't work, of course, as there's no electricity and even if there were, electric devices don't work at places where even the air is simply oozing magic."

Listening her small lecture I couldn't help but thing abut how intimate this moment actually was, getting an insider view into the life of Hermione while being invited into her bedroom. I guess she was just a normal girl anyway, maybe a little bit too studious to my liking, but, as the previous small intermezzo had shown, definitely a girl.

Pulling her door close, she walked up to the third one. "Tsk, tsk, Potter," she winked at me, reading the nameboard. "Looks like you're building up a small harem here. Who is the lucky Nymphadora Tonks?"

Without saying a word, I handed over Susan's letter to her. Reading it over twice, she raised her head from the parchment. "So, this room knew?"

"Ask Dobby," I shook my head. "The only thing I know is that she's an Auror from Moody's class... and she's my cousin," I added in a mysterious voice. "She told me herself tonight; actually it was her who showed me this room."

"Your cousin?"

"Yeah, from my paternal grandmother's side, at least it's what she told me," I yawned. "We can catch up tomorrow when she arrives – you will like her, I'm sure – but I'm knackered and I guess you are too. So please feel free to use the bathroom as you had originally planned, I will wait."

She stepped close, very close. "Brushing me off already, Potter?" She whispered into my ear. "You won't succeed. I will see you, safe and sound, through the Tournament, no matter what." She repeated her previous performance with her lips against mine and I gulped heavily. My eyes opened only when the door of the bathroom closed behind her to the sight of the grinning Dobby, my lips still remembering the taste of her lips, milk chocolate and peppermint. I started thinking it had a rather good chance of turning into my favourite taste, once I could figure out the reason behind these sudden, small signs of affection, that is.

Having fled into the relative safety of my old-new bedroom and leaving a startled elf behind, I threw myself on my bed and pulled the bedcover over my head, contemplating about the many events of the evening. Hard to say how much time had passed until the door silently opened, only the soft creaking of the floorboards under light footsteps giving away the presence of someone nearing my bed. I felt my warm cocoon being pulled off me and stared into the face of my best friend.

"What's happening to us, Hermione?" I managed to blurt out, clearly embarrassed.

"Harry, I seriously meant what I said," she sat on my bed, taking my hand into hers. She smelled oh so good. "I will do my best to get you out of the Tournament. If I don't succeed, I will spend every moment you need to help you prepare and survive the tasks on your way. I will snog you senseless ten times a day if it helps you to take your mind off things. I'm not ready to date you, at least not right now, but then, I'm not ready to date anyone yet. I know that you're my very best friend, and my place is right beside you right now." She squeezed my hand hard and stood up. "The bathroom is yours, we will talk tomorrow. Sleep tight."

"That snogging thing sounds just marvellous," I winked at her. It felt, though, as if both of us were suddenly replaced with slightly modified versions of ourselves, so different this situation was from our three-year long, platonic friendship."Sleep tight, my guardian angel." Her radiant smile in answer made my heart skip a beat and, as she leaned in for a good-night kiss I was all to happy to administer, our lips lingered a little bit longer than was appropriate for two people who were clearly not dating.

When the door closed behind her, I groaned. I definitely needed a long, cold shower, but at least there still were moments in my miserable life when it didn't suck to be me. The past few minutes, however, unfortunately added a few items to my ever-growing list of problems-to-be-solved. Why does Hermione keep kissing me? Why do I enjoy it so much and why do I want to kiss her back?