Possibly not canon. Go flame someone who's not supposed to be working on a master's thesis. But I am proud of having chosen this character.

Thanks to Bubble for the review!

Disclaimer: I still don't own J.K. Rowling's characters or Jason Robert Brown's lyrics.

On the Deck of a Spanish Sailing Ship, 1492

And I know it's my responsibility
But I'm starving too, and I hurt, I do, and I'm lost
And I believe in my responsibility
But I need to see if the fruits will be worth the cost

He indulged in a bit of frivolity once and made a list of all the things he could be called for his unique role. Traitor, coward, turncoat, backstabber, betrayer, liar, fake, along with a host of less kind epithets, most of which he had already had thrown at him. They all applied, and could be flung by either side. Sometimes even he did not know what side he actually wanted to win; as long as he knew what to say to which wizard, he considered himself in good shape. Whatever the outcome of the war, he would not fare particularly well. That much he knew, and it did not make him desire the end to come with any haste. Anyone who imagined that he had put himself in this position for his own personal gain had precious little knowledge of the way the real world worked.

No matter what side he was on, he remained a teacher. His students may have had a hard time believing it, but he did enjoy teaching. Were it any other subject than Potions, he would not invest the time or effort; but the subject was his passion, and he felt the need to impart its wisdom to younger generations. Whether or not they took advantage of his expertise was entirely up to them. Most of them did not, and he felt no compunction at their poor grades.

Why, he sometimes wondered, did he spend so much time on an endeavour that was so unprofitable and so likely to end with his death? It was foolishness of the first order. He was not one to willingly engage in any sort of foolishness, but he had put himself into the thick of this situation. It was illogical and foolish, and he disliked anyone knowing what a spot he'd put himself in. He'd spent some time reflecting on it and always came to the same conclusion: this would not end well for Severus Snape. And yet he carried on with the foolhardy enterprise. Why?

Stop—take a look at your children who believe in this promised land

Unlike some of his colleagues, Snape did not have a special soft spot in his heart for children. They were at best difficult and time-consuming. At worst, they were dangerous and infuriating. No, he was not a teacher because he believed in the promise of the future that his students held. If that made him grumpy or grouchy or any of the things he knew they called him, so be it. He was not at Hogwarts to make friends.

And yet... He still felt some kind of responsibility to the darling little ones. Somewhere in the recesses of his mind he remembered what it was like to be a child. He had never been as flighty as many today were, and was a good deal cleverer even as a child than these were (he was sure that humankind in general grew stupider with each passing year), but he remembered being unsettled by certain... changes in himself that took place while at Hogwarts. Despite his demeanor, Snape was not a completely uncaring man. He did, indeed, care for something, which was why he found himself in the nearly-intolerable position of being a double agent.

It sounded so cloak-and-daggerish, double agent. He was not on an episode of "The Avengers," although the double agents of that program never met with happy ends themselves. Snape allowed himself a sigh at the thought of Mrs. Peel and the heyday of sophisticated yet light-hearted British espionage. It was leagues away from where he found himself.

At one time he may have embraced Voldemort's plans, but if he did, it was out of anger and hatred. At his stepfather, at Potter and Black, at himself... But he had come to realize, nearly too late, that (to use a rather inept metaphor) the potion did not care who made it. The Gryffindors were a prime example of that. Purebloods: Weasley and Longbottom were deplorable and hopeless, respectively; half-blood: Potter got by, but he had the ability to be more than fair if he chose to act more like his mother than his father; and Muggleborn: Granger, insufferable though she was, was clearly a talented witch. If not for her personality, she could have been his prize student. Yes, his career as a teacher had proved time and again that one's blood did not make one's destiny.

Lord, save this child
I am not strong enough
I am not strong enough

He was being watched at all times, by both sides, and it was tiring. For a less intelligent man it would have been too much. At times he nearly entertained the hope that Dumbledore's side would win and that his covert operations would go unrecognized—he wanted no medals for what he was doing. But more often than not he found himself praying to any power that his death would be swift, for he was already judged and damned.