I watch him while he sleeps. He knows that I watch him. In fact, he likes to watch me too, so we take turns. Last night, I slept soundly, and he knelt by my bed. Tomorrow night, he will do the same. But tonight is my night.

I stare at him in class, and I stare at him in the hallways. He is beautiful at any time of day or night, but there is something special about him when he sleeps. Maybe it's the subtle changes in his expression as he dreams. Maybe it's the way his mouth hangs open vacantly when he's not dreaming. Even his drool is beautiful to me.

I kneel motionless on the floor next to his bed. We are face to face. His eyes flutter open for a moment and then shut quickly. He snores loudly, pretending to be fast asleep. This is a fun game we like to play. If he wakes up for a moment and sees me, he pretends he didn't. It's just like the nights before we shared True Love's First Kiss. I used to watch him every night, and he pretended not to know. It's titillating to pretend that it's still a secret.

Around 3am my knees start to ache. Kneeling on the floor for eight hours takes a toll on a person's body, but it's worth it for him. I may be young, but I know what true love is, and this is it. True love means kneeling by his bed all night, even if your knees hurt. Even if he sleeps in really late on the weekend and you have to pee and your knees hurt.

At 4am, I hear movement behind me, and I barely bother to glance over my shoulder. It's just Neville getting up to go to the bathroom. The other boys in our dorm got used to seeing me on the floor by Harry's bed a long time ago. They used to wake me up if I accidentally dozed off so that I wouldn't get caught. What good friends they are. Only the most loyal friends would be willing to help you avoid getting caught as you stare directly into your best friend's face as he sleeps, night after night.

At 5am, I place a hand gently on my mouth to make sure that my internal monologue has remained internal. I love him, I think. The moonlight is perfect. My lips remain still. Good. Sometimes when it gets late, I start speaking out loud without noticing. Harry doesn't mind. In fact, the first time it happened, we shared True Love's First Kiss. Still, it wakes up the other boys in the dorm. Dean thought it was funny the first time, but after the fifth time I woke him up monologuing, he told me I needed to stop.

We haven't kissed since that first night. Every kiss has to be perfect. But watching him tonight, I am more in love with him than ever. The moment feels perfect. His lips are faintly parted, just asking me to kiss them. I am finally ready for True Love's Second Kiss.

Still kneeling on the floor, I lean forwards. I rest my head gently next to his on the pillow, and I inch forwards until our lips barely touch. He doesn't wake up, but that's okay. I will stay here until he does.

I must have dozed off at some point because when I awake, there is sunlight streaming through the windows. My lips are still touching Harry's, ever so slightly. I open my eyes and find his emerald green orbs staring back at me. This is the perfect kiss: three hours long (most of them spent unconscious), barely making physical contact, eyes wide open. This is what I always dreamed of.

An hour later, I finally pull away. Harry grins at me.

"Oh Ron," he says. "I love you."

"I can't wait for True Love's Third Kiss," I say, smiling back.

On our wedding day, Harry and I share True Love's Sixty-Third Kiss.

"You may now kiss the groom."

Our lips barely touch. We both fall asleep immediately. It is perfect.