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Harry had his eyes closed. Still, he could see the light. The orange colour was filling all his senses. He was so curious he thought he wouldn't be able to bear it.
He finally opened his eyes and his whole body nearly exploded with an intense sense of orange and pink. All around, millions of transparent bubbles of different sizes, some as small as unripe cherries, some as big as juicy grapefruits; all of them gleaming, reflecting rainbowy flashes of light. Completely astonished, Harry looked around, seeing the vast pinkish bubbly distance radiating everywhere around him, even underneath his feet.
Harry took a step forward. And another. One more. Obviously, it was possible to walk here, even though he was not sure where he could get to. He slowly went on walking, enjoying the lightness he felt. His movements were so smooth. His body carried no weight. The bubbles were gently touching his skin, giving him little shivers. He felt his heart yearning, but not in the way that makes you crazy—in the way that makes you high.
He did not know how long he had been walking, and was not worried about that either. But at a certain moment, he realised he was not alone. He felt someone's shadow nearby. He looked that way.
It was a man. Severus Snape, to be specific. Harry smiled and went towards him.
The touch was immediate. Harry’s palms on Severus’s hips, Severus’s hands cupping Harry’s face. The kiss as deep as a canyon in the parched earth, yet as light that a soul could fly. Having his eyes closed, Harry lost all sense of his surroundings, and his heart burst into lots and lots of clear water droplets.
***
A sudden shift.
When Harry opened his eyes again, his heart was back in his chest where it belonged, and it was racing. He was lying on his side, confused by the blinding darkness. He covered his face with both of his hands, feeling the cold sweat on his forehead. An unpleasant pressure in his lower belly made him sigh inadvertently.
“F*ck,” he murmured, sickened by the disappointment. He sat up and scrabbled around the nightstand for his glasses.
No distances around him. Just familiar shapes of the furniture in his bedroom.