Hermione ran straight into Severus in the hallway, and he caught her against him and pulled her close. She wound her arms up around his neck, and he bent down to lick the tears from her cheeks.
"When did you know?" she whispered, eyes shut, trying not to cry any more.
"If you want romantic, I'll say when I first proposed our wager. If you want honesty, I'll say… when you were so sad that morning, and wouldn't let me wipe your tears away. I didn't know what it was, but I felt it." He pressed his lips to hers.
She pulled her head back. "When did you know what it was?"
He looked down at her, thoughtful. "I think when I made you that toast while you were working."
She laughed. "You can't have known it was love before you realised you felt anything at all!"
He shrugged. "I don't know, then. I think that was it, though. I think I realised it was there before I actually felt it. And then when I did feel it, it was like being hit by a bus, and I finally understood what everyone has been going on about for so many years. But I don't think I admitted it to myself, not really, until a week ago, when you were so sad, and it hurt me so much not to be allowed to hold you."
She started to ask another question, but he just grabbed her hand and pulled her to the Floo, laughing for the first time in years.
When they emerged in 12 Grimmauld Place, he just kissed her again, trying to explain with his lips how long it had been for him since he'd felt anything this strong, trying to make her understand that living through the life he had, he was broken and sarcastic and mean, and he probably would never be able to love her properly.
But she kept kissing him anyway, and he knew somehow that she'd understood, but would love him anyway. And that's all he wanted.
That, and for her clothes to be off as soon as possible.
:::
The End.