I believe, dearest readers, that many of you would prefer for me to stop detailing the thoughts of the characters and simply get on with the story. I would love to, truly, but I suffer from a complex disease that keeps me from getting to the point. Well, really, I'm bluffing. I just like stalling, and keeping you on the edges of your seats. Though I fancy that many of you fall forward after reading one of my rather long paragraphs, so I'll try to have a little more action in this chapter.

Don't expect too much, though, faithful followers, since I truly can't be relied on for much more than long-winded chapters that are truly quite short. It's odd how that works, isn't it?

It was the second full day of Hermione Granger's ailment, and, to all who looked in on her, she appeared to be sleeping peacefully, even dreaming. Harry had been correct, however, in assuming that she would not be lenient toward the idea of having a large horde of boys kiss her. Considering the circumstances, however, she didn't have much choice in the matter.

Harry decided he and Ron would be some of the last to give their dearest friend a quick peck, though he knew the suspense would probably kill both of them. However, he felt it would be better to know if another was her true love, to save them the pain of a semi-rejection. (Though rejection would commonly refer to something one does when one is consciously making decisions, it was Harry's logic, and he was sticking to it.)

So, at around ten O'clock of a cool fall day, Harry and Ron appointed themselves the informal observers of he proceedings in the infirmary, along with Headmaster Dumbledore. The first young man to show up was Neville Longbottom, which didn't surprise either of the three in the least.

He scuttled forward, peeking his head in the door, and was met with an encouraging look from Professor D, a amused looked from Harry, and a rather disgusted and amused look from Ron. Filled with hope, though he didn't really believe in true love, as it was something of fairy tales and- That's another story. He gave her a hasty peck, (having already used a breath mint before entering,) and scuttled, faster this time, out of the room.

Hermione did not move a muscle. Harry and Ron let out their breath, though neither realized they had been holding it.

Many more young men filed through the infirmary, and, by, lunch time, there was a lineup leading out into the hallway. Most were Gryffindors and Ravenclaws, (as many of the smart young men fancied a smart young woman,) though few Hufflepuffs showed up, as they are quite shy by nature.

Dumbledore watched it with a twinkle in his eye, though most were too preoccupied to notice.

On the third day, after a rather stressful second day, it was much the same, though the line was shorter, and most of the latecomers were Hufflepuffs, convinced by their friends from other houses. Hermione had yet to bat an eyelash to any of her young suitors, and Harry and Ron were surprisingly relieved. After five days, with many, many unsuccessful kisses, every young man in sixth and seventh year had gone. Except, of course, for the Slytherins.

So Friday evening found their esteemed Headmaster standing for attention in the Great Hall.

"Our current situation has not changed," he began, trying not to smile too widely. (As I said before, he knew more than anyone else in the hall, and, as most would, was quite enjoying it.) "I believe I will have to ask our dear Slytherins," he paused to let the boos die down, sending an apologetic look to the greasy-haired Professor at his side. "I will have to ask all young men in 6th and 7th years from Slytherin to participate."

There were many, many cries of rage, disgust, and sincere shock at being asked to do such a thing.

"Tomorrow, I will expect to see you all in the infirmary, and I will keep note of who arrives and who does not. Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley, if I may speak to you for a moment. To everyone else, dig in!"

They obliged, despite the dark mutterings at the table shadowed by a large silver and green banner, and Harry and Ron obliged their request.

"You two will have to participate soon," Dumbledore spoke, peering down at them. "If you would prefer, you may each give her a quick peck directly after dinner, and no one would be the wiser."

Harry took one look at Ron, who was blushing at staring at the hem of his robes, and decided it would be best to answer for the both of them. "That would be good. Thanks Professor."

Dumbledore gave a small nod of his head, and smiled as the two boys walked back to their table. Ron was trying to regain some control over his emotions and his skin tone, while Harry was pondering. Harry pondered an awful lot, especially during their current predicament, and was pleased to find he wasn't all that nervous about kissing one of his best friends.

After dinner, Harry and Ron trudged up the stairs. Harry felt as if he were walking through a large field of flowers, while Ron felt as if he were being led to the gas chambers. When they reached the hospital wing, Harry gave Ron an encouraging look as he pushed the door open.

Ron smiled grimly back, though his stomach felt as if butterflies were having a party in it. Harry gave Ron and amused an apprehensive look before leaning down to kiss Hermione.

Time seemed to slow down, and, if Ron had known anything about the muggle world, he would have compared it to watching sports replays multiple times. It had never occurred to him that Harry and Hermione might be destined for each other. OR rather, he'd known it was a possibility, but the full idea and the consequences of Harry's kiss, (if she woke up,) seemed to rush into his mind in that one moment.

He felt as if he needed to rush forward, telling Harry to stop, and kiss Hermione himself. There would be fireworks, he was sure of it, confetti, balloons, and Harry would pat him on the back. All would be well in the world, or so he thought. Without Ron realizing it, Harry had finished his kiss already, and was watching Hermione intently.

He was hoping and fearing that her eyes would flutter open, as he didn't know if he could deal with it. Surely he would love to have Hermione be his one true love; he knew he loved her in at least a platonic way. But he wasn't sure if he was ready to know who his true love was at such a young age, and what he and Hermione would do if they were a supposed couple. What's more, he didn't really want to brood on what Ron would think, since he was fairly sure it would throw him into a deep depression to have the girl he loved going out with his best friend.

Luckily, though, Hermione's eyes did not flutter open at all, nor did she move anymore than she had for any of the other boys who had come to her bedside. Harry, a little disappointed and a little relieved, broke Ron out of his reverie and pushed him forward.

For Ron, this was the ultimate moment of truth. This could make or break him, and he knew it, though there was always the possibility that he could steal her back from her true love if he wasn't the one. Or that true love doesn't always work, something which Ron firmly believed in since there was that faint shadow of doubt that he and Hermione were not meant to be.

He was so absorbed pondering about the consequences the kiss might have that he didn't even think about the kiss itself. He leaned down, seemingly in a daze, and kissed her. He, as I've said before, would have been much more pleased if she'd been awake for the encounter, as to see her reaction, but beggars can't be choosers, as they always say. (Please do not take this as an insult to Ron's financial situation in anyway. Such petty observations are only fit for the likes of Draco Malfoy.)

Ron pulled back. He sat for three minutes, watching. At the five minute mark, he was positive he saw an eyelash flutter, though Harry assured him it was just the draft in the room. He quickly responded that there was no draft, and clearly he and Hermione were destined. Harry didn't reply to that, seeing as how his words would have been harsh.

They sat for two hours after dinner, and not once were they disturbed by anyone. Ron didn't move. Finally, Harry ushered him out. All Ron could think of was what he would do, how he could make Hermione love him.

All Harry could think about was that her apparent true love would have to be a Slytherin. There was a faint tickle in the back of his mind, and that tickle was Draco Malfoy. He quickly ushered it away. It would not do to think such things.