He reached out, blindly feeling for something solid, something besides the cold stone beneath his bare feet. He takes a step, then another, waving his hands in front of him as he desperately searches. His eyes are blind with no light to help him see.
The blackness is so bright it rivals that which is behind closed eyes. But at least the darkness behind ever present eyelids is friendly and familiar. This eternal blackness is menacing. Forever pushing in on a person, trying to drive them mad. It tends to do it's job well.
He takes another step, sensing the void. A void hidden so well, that he can only feel it. But where it lies he cannot tell. Is it right in front of him? Or perhaps to his left? What about his right? Or could it be the improbable and be above him? Taking a deep breath, he steps forward-
* * *
His black eyes snap open and dart around the empty room. The moon light, shining in from the room's only window, reflects slightly off the sheen of sweat covering most of his body. He sits up, only to find himself tangled in the bed-sheets.
Cursing softly, he pries the sheets off his body and straightens them out, waiting for his heart to leave the race it seemed to be participating in once again.
That dream. It was the same one every time he closed his eyes. It never varied, and it never left. He would have asked Trelawney about it, if it wasn't for the fact that she creeped him out, and he didn't think he could handle another prediction of his demise. He'd never told the Headmaster of his drams. Dumbledore has already done more than enough for him.
He climbs out of bed as the first hint of daylight brightens the sky. Better get ready for classes tomorrow, as the students arrive today . . .
He stops and thinks for a moment. Best to keep his dreams to himself still, too . . . The general public doesn't need to know that the infamous Severus Snape has nightmares of his own . . .