When he watched Snape at meals he is not the potions master, Nor his professor, Nor a spy.

He is just a man.

His man, when their eyes meet, and his man when he sneers,

For it could not mean anything but undeniable love.

When in class, and he must admit, he is a pupil to his man,

The sharp tongue and wit, must only be at hand to hide the fiery passion of their love.

Alone but for his man, the battle has been won, but not without sacrifice.

Dumbledore hath slain Voldemort,

While, in a pit of rage, Lucius slain Dumbledore, and then himself as his masters gone.

Brought down earlier was Harry, though only by a stupefy.

He awakes,

Sharp breath intakes, to see his man stand tall.

And with his last breath he must admit.

His man,

A double spy.