It hit her like a tone of books falling of the highest shelf in the library. She was falling, falling fast and there was nothing their to stop her. And the worst of it was, she wasn't sure she wanted to be stopped. Why would she want to be? There was nothing more totteringly wonderful than falling in love. The romance, the grandeur, the overwhelming desire to intertwine the soul with that of the other. Harry and Ron wanted to go off and tour the world, sow some wild oats Molly had called it. They wanted freedoms one could only be granted on such a trip and at this moment in time before they came back and "settled" down.
Hermione was different. Mind you, she had always been different and always known it. She wanted the life with one person, wanted the life of monogamy, wanted to make decisions accounting for the feelings of someone else, she wanted the wife, the kids, the house in the country and the 2 dogs. She even wanted the niggling arguments of an everyday mundane life that loving would bring.
She wanted all this and more. She wanted Minerva. She wanted the woman of her dreams to be there by her side through all that would come her way. She wanted in other words, Nirvana.
But who was she kidding, Minerva would never be interested, why would she be?