A/N: As far as I'm concerned, I haven't updated in ages. I didn't even want to begin this chapter, because I was afraid it wouldn't have the same air, that I couldn't write the same, after such a long time. When I began writing, however, things just sort of fit together. And so I give you the third chapter in my rather odd tale of love and subtle humour:

Draco Malfoy, as I have mentioned before, was a tall and handsome young man, though as far away from the "dark" part of this particular cliché as you can get. Many girls swoon, and, though it is not known by most, Hermione Granger is not oblivious to his physical features. In fact, Hermione Granger has often looked at the aforementioned young man with what can only be described as a bitter curiousity. That of one who likes what she sees, though knows she can never have it, even just a small sample, for reasons beyond her control.

Though, perhaps, they may not be beyond her control, if she was willing to invest such time and effort in one who she is meant to loathe with all her being. Hermione, being the bright young woman that she is, did not waste more than a minute, (or five, perhaps,) on the blonde Slytherin so fondly spoken of by many young women.

On with the story. The tall, light, and handsome young man was sitting in his dreary dormitory in the dungeons; Oh, I'll have to pause for just a moment, dear reader, to ponder that past sentence, and, if I might say so myself, the wonderful alliteration used.

All pondering aside, I truly must be boring you to death, so, once again, I shall continue. He was sitting in his dreary dormitory in the dungeons, pondering his current predicament. Surely they did not have to participate, he was thinking. All joking aside, kissing, pardon, pecking a mudblood was not a wise decision.

Please excuse my use of the term, but, as I am an omniscient and omnipotent narrator, I read the thoughts and feelings of the characters mentioned, and it is my duty to quote them correctly.

It should be noted that Draco Malfoy's hate, spite, and utter loathing of those without pureblood is partly hereditary, and partly due simply to his upbringing. Perhaps if he had been in a different place, a different time, such a worry would not be a factor to him in the least. Alas, an awfully pretty young witch needed to be awakened, he was one candidate, so to speak, in the ranks of those who might be her true love, yet things often stand in the way of true love.

Not that he would think such a thing of the unconscious witch four floors above him. His father would have much to say, he thought on the subject of kissing someone like her. He was not required to give her mouth-to-mouth, as it were, though if the need arose, he wasn't sure if he would be so against the thought. However, facades must be held up, no matter what the circumstances.

Even if she was awfully pretty, and he did think about her, though he wasn't meant to. He was awfully glad no one could read his mind. (Oh dear…)

In another part of the great castle, Ronald Weasley and Harry Potter were holding an impromptu meeting. They were certain Malfoy would not stoop so low, (his words, mind, not theirs,) to kiss Hermione, and therefore it wasn't too much of a problem.

Ron was pondering (my, the characters do an awful lot of that, don't they?) over the thought of actually kissing Hermione, something which he often thought of, and wished for. He thought, though, that he would much rather have her awake for the experience. And then there was he horrible thought that he may not be Hermione's true love, which put him in a horrible mood. Harry, being the wise young man that he is, left Ronald to his brooding and left to do some of his own.

He himself had often wondered what his true feelings for Hermione were, but had promptly dismissed them partly for Ron, and partly because she could be awfully annoying at times. (Truthfully, he thought he liked her a little bit more than he was supposed to, as a best friend, though he never told a soul. And he never will, since he's sure it would cause all sorts of havoc.)

Harry didn't have as many qualms as Ron about kissing Hermione, since he wasn't as infatuated with her as his best friend, and he was rather pleased that it was an experience he would have had in his already short life. (His life, sadly, did not last long after Hogwarts, since a lot of events including some rather nasty characters and strange tattoos on skin would cause him to come to an untimely death. He was happy, in the end, to have experienced the feeling of Hermione's lips on his, be they cold or full of life, and realized in the last great battle, how much he truly loved her. But, as you will know by the end of this story, he could not have her.)

Harry, at that point, was rather more worried about Hermione's reaction about having a rather large number of boys kiss her. She was never one for public displays of affection, and she had had few steady boyfriends. What's more, the idea of finding out who her true love was while still in school would have terrified her, perhaps into a premature death herself. (There I go again; remind me to apologize to Harry and Ronald after all this, all right?)

It was lucky, Harry thought, that she was asleep for the entire ordeal. Though, if she had been awake, then there wouldn't have been any need for any of the events before and after this point in time, so it wouldn't really have mattered. However, there were many brooders in the castle, and many Slytherins agreed to veto the entire thing, headmaster or no Headmaster.

Very few of them could bear the thought of having their true love be a half-blood, much less a no-blood, if you'll pardon the implication. Nor could they bear the thought of having their true love be a Gryffindor. Really, it was quite preposterous.

Albus Dumbledore, yes, the Headmaster himself, was brooding as well. Though his thoughts were much less serious, and that is for one reason. He knew that the thoughts of many would circle around the idea that Hermione's true love may not even go to Hogwarts, or even be in England. He knew his logic would be questioned in this instance, but he was always sure of his actions.

You mustn't worry, dear reader, about the Headmaster's sanity in this case. For, as we all know, Albus Dumbledore always knows a little more than everyone else. And what he knew, (apart from Mr. Malfoy's weaknesses, of course,) was sure to be of great shock, disgust, perhaps even amusement, to all of Hogwarts. Once they caught up with him, of course.

A/N: You know the drill….