It was the purest white he had ever seen. Blinding, almost, yet he was not squinting. In fact, he was not scowling, either. Severus Snape’s trademark expression had abandoned him, leaving behind one of tranquility and content. He felt as if the overwhelming gravity that used to pound on his head, furrow his brows, and slouch his shoulders was gone. He felt light, yet stable on what was now soft, dewy grass.
All around him the brilliant white was fading away to reveal a small clearing in a green and luminous forest. There was no sun. Every leaf, every blade of grass, every flower petal seemed to emit its own yellow light. Severus could f