Black. Everything was black.
Severus Snape was aware of his surroundings, but saw nothing but black. He couldn't move, not even to open his eyes, to twitch a finger. Was he dead? He had to be – after all, no one could have survived that damned snake bite.
For a moment, he panicked. Had he gotten the memory to Harry? If not, Harry wouldn't know how to defeat Voldemort…
Something in the back of his mind reassured him that yes, he had gotten the memory to Harry, and that yes, Harry knew what he had to do, and had done it. Snape was relieved, a huge weight off his chest. That was his purpose after all, and being dead didn't bother him now that he knew his purpose had been fulfilled. That was all that had been keeping him alive, anyway.
Severus Snape was aware of his surroundings. He was still in his body, still in the Shrieking Shack. But he wasn't breathing, he had no heart beat. So was he stuck in this body? He wondered if he could get out… Letting go of all of his thoughts, he felt himself slowly rise into the air – not his body, but his essence. He could open his eyes now that he wasn't trapped in that God forsaken body he had spent so long trying to get out of.
He saw the Shack around him, dusty and dark. He saw his body on the floor, surrounded in crimson blood. The look of determination on his face. It was too much to look at.
Wasn't this what he had wanted so long ago? When he first heard that the Dark Lord was going after Lily and it was his fault, wasn't death what he had begged and pleaded for? But now… could he have had a life of his own?
Severus Snape was aware of his surroundings as he drifted out of the Shrieking Shack and across the dark fields of Hogwarts. Not still a human, but hardly a ghost. More of a presence, drifting along the grounds, making his way to the great hall where he knew everyone would be.
He was drawn by the sound of his own name, and listened from the doorway as Potter told everyone that he was a hero. He watched as Potter killed Voldemort with the wand that Snape himself had been killed for. He watched tearful families, weeping over the bodies of the dead. There would be no one to weep over him. His body would decompose in the Shrieking Shack, no one caring enough to go find it and give him a proper funeral. No one even thinking, "I wonder what ever became of Severus Snape."
It would be Potter's name in the history books, not his. But that was what Severus Snape had been meant for. A behind-the-scenes hero, never to get his chance in the spotlight.
Severus Snape was aware of his surroundings as he drifted closer, wondering who was dead. He saw the werewolf and his pink-haired wife, the Weasley boy, the sixth year that had worshipped Potter his whole life. All of them were to be mourned by family, friends…
He had none of that. No one to mourn him. Even after his redemption, he doubted Potter liked him.
He looked at all the wounded, and all the living, scurrying around. He heard no one say, "I wonder what ever became of Severus Snape." It was okay, he didn't expect it. None of them ever liked him, no one did. It was his destiny to be hated, anyway. His job, practically.
Severus Snape was no longer aware of his surroundings as he heard a familiar voice behind him and everything turned white.
"It's time, Sev. You've earned it now." He turned to see the face of the woman he had always loved, waiting for him.
And Severus Snape smiled as he stepped towards her and took the hand of Lily Evans Potter and she led him to his destiny.