DISCLAIMER - I do not own Harry Potter, Severus Snape, Albus Dumbledore, or any of the magical world JK ROWLING created for us.
The anger in his eyes is a mask
So masterfully applied
You'd never see it
He never stood a chance
Too afraid of the two sides of life
Laid out in front of him
Because either way
He would die
He tried to protect her
Every part of life that was good
Remained with her memories
Locked deep in his mind
With the pain the anger burned
The last shred of youth
Caught fire
He stood a man
Swearing to always protect
With a mother's love
He knows exactly what he's doing, every snide remark and conversation surrounding the boy was to be kept on at a front. He pledged his life to protect the boy, he promised his childhood friend when he held her body in his arms, and after a nights deep thought he came to the conclusion that the best way he could protect the boy who lived was to play both sides. He would do whatever it took to protect him. He would dedicate his life to making sure that boy continued to live.
He knew it wasn't going to be easy. He planned to be a horrible teacher, because if he were a good one that might open up questions with the Dark Lord, because for his own sanity he couldn't bare children from other houses coming to him for help.
He had time to build up his reputation. He had time to further cultivate his dark persona, developing his mark of darkness to what appeared to be perfection. The Dark Lord would have no reason to question him.
And then it was time. The returning students took their seats in the Great Hall, excited to share how their summers had been, to see their friends again. The sneer he had long since perfected deterred most of his fellow professors from even trying to initiate a conversation with him.
The flow of first years trickled steadily until they were all lined up anxiously waiting to see how they'd be sorted, where they'd be sorted.
Severus paid no mind of the hat's song, or any of the children's names as they were sent on their way to their respectful house tables; that is until the smallest of the first years name was called. shakily making their way to the small stool.
He glared daggers at the child's back, at the hat, daring the boy to be sorted to the house of snakes. After what seemed like hours passed he could breathe a sigh of relief. The boy was following his parents footsteps towards the table of lions, of courage, bravery and determination.