I heard the news of Alan Rickman's demise, and I was absolutely heartbroken. This is a little piece as a tribute to him. RIP, sir. We love you.
Severus had given up all hope of seeing her ever again. Not that he did not see her all the time. He did, in his dreams, every nights, in his mind's eye, every day. But those visions were only his imagination, he would think bitterly; after all, nothing was going to bring Lily back. Nothing was going to mend all those years which had torn them apart. He wished he could bring back that feisty redheaded girl that he had begun loving right at the time he first met her. He had been lonely before, but the loneliness of life had increased hundredfold the day he realised that Lily Evans (then Potter, unfortunately) had had her time up in this world.
But he saw her again, he saw her the time his own span on earth came to a close.
"Look — at me —" he managed to rasp at her son, the boy whom he had never managed to like because he bore the name and looks of his arch-enemy, and behind those frames, he saw the vivid green eyes — Lily's eyes. He saw the freckled face, the curtain of dark red hair framing her face, the lips lifted in a sad, mournful smile. He felt her caress his face, and even as his breathing became a losing struggle, his faltering heart seemed to swell. And as he felt himself reach the edge of life, he heard her whisper, "Come to me, Sev."
Severus Snape could not have asked for a more peaceful way to death.