He had a funny urge to accept Dumbledore's offer of his endless supply of lemon drops since he first met Dumbledore as Hogwarts' Potions Master. He'd always wonder what it must have tasted like to obsess the Headmaster so much. Not surprising, though, considering the Headmaster's rather eccentric behavior. But Severus had once wondered, for the slightest moment, whether he himself would be addicted if he tried one, and then berated himself for such an appalling thought. Still, he was tempted to take up Dumbledore's offer, if only just to see the Headmaster's reaction.
He hated the Death Eater meetings. That much was obvious to whoever truly knows his loyalties. But he'd never tell anyone, not even Dumbledore, how he detested those meetings where he was forced through a seemingly endless farce with the group of people the world feared the most. He detested those raids where he was forced to witness the death of innocent Muggles with faked indifference. Before scheduled meetings with those bunches of cold-blooded goons, he had tried to escape several times, by means of alcohol and potions, foolishly indulging in the flicker of hope within him that these meetings will somehow carry on without him. Of course, he was disappointed every time. His alcohol, or occasionally potion, induced condition worsens the random curses Voldemort used to flick at them. He wisely abandoned that hope.
Severus Snape was not the kind of person who might give compliments without lacing it with insults. But if he were given a dose of the strongest, purest Veritaserum, coupled with the threat of two nights under Bellatrix Lestrange, he'd be spewing hundreds of compliments all day long, minus the insults. He was fiercely protective and proud of his students, Slytherins and Gryffindors alike, although he acted otherwise. Whenever a potion was brewed correctly, or a helping hand offered quickly, his mouth would twitch involuntarily to control the remark of approval on his tongue. However, being raised by his father's iron hand, he believed that students, or children in general, grow and learn faster if not coddled with praise and undue affection. After all, he'd grown up in a similar situation and it had driven him beyond his abilities, earning him the title of the youngest Potions Masters since Merlin himself.
Severus had a rebellious streak in him. He would never admit it, and would gladly Obliviate the offending memory off the realms of his mind. When he was fourteen, he fashioned his hair into spikes just to offend the Charms professor who detested him for no apparent reason. He often visited Hogsmeade with that particular fashion whenever said Charms professor was on duty. Perfecting the picture with a pair of rugged Muggle jeans and a Beatles t-shirt, he was pleased when the Charms professor was driven up the wall. When the Charms professor finally succumbed, he took a pail of Permanent Ink for Quills and drew an appalling portrait of said professor, smiling disgustingly and planting a kiss on a Hippogriff's arse. The portrait still stands in the third floor, somewhere.
Every time he look at Hermione Granger, he is eerily reminded of his younger self, and Lily, poring over books in the library, always coming up with new spells and potions. And it is for that very same reason, he is always picked on in his House and classes, the know-it-all greasy git. Even so, Granger did not undergo the same treatment he did, probably because nobody wanted to mess with the Potter brat. He is glad, to some extent, that Potter at least had a brainiac on his side, to figure out the academic side which was sure to come to their aid in this prophetic war.
He knows about the Dursleys' treatment to the Potter brat—after the disastrous Occlumency lessons, he had a few suspicions which he proceeded to confirm after closely observing the boy. He hid food, no doubt for the summer to come, and brewed bruise balms in secret, not even with the help of Granger. Severus was astonished—not only because Potter could actually brew a successful potion without any help when his performance in his classes were tragically dismal—at the fact that the Potter boy wasn't in the least sense, like his father. He shared the same traits Severus himself used to have—thin narrow frame from malnutrition, hiding food, bruise balms… But Potter, being the Gryffindor he is, had one thing Severus could never have done—He always has the courage to stand up for the bullied. Severus finally realized that what he had always perceived of Harry Potter was only a projection of his own mind, and not this innocent child, a child on which he had laid all his resentment for what James Potter had done, for the life he never could have. Thus, he had spent the following summer watching over the boy in the Dursleys' impeccable garden, silently, subtly protecting him from the occasional physical blows and starvation, conjuring food from Hogwarts to sustain the boy. Sometimes, when Harry lay asleep in his bed, Severus would heal his bruises, and strengthened Harry's mind shields with his own impenetrable ones, offering whatever reprieve from the nightmares he now knew Harry suffered.
He'd always held some respect for the Weasley twins. They were creative, though in Severus' opinion, their creativity was put to waste in creating jokes. But he respected them, especially after the little mishaps they executed perfectly during Umbridge's reign. The day they escaped, Severus had loosened the chains securing their brooms beforehand, correctly estimating their legendary escape. He never breathed a word to anyone about that, but that night, he received a thank-you note from the twins, and suggestions to pranking Umbridge. That night, a few Gryffindors found a list of pranks for Umbridge, hidden in one of their returned assignments.
When Harry went searching for the Horcruxes, Snape sent spies (namely, Dobby and a couple of house elves) to keep track of them. He tried to make sure that Harry would make through his exploits relatively unharmed, despite his workload in Hogwarts and Voldemort's watchful eye. When Harry was captured at the Malfoys, he was beside himself with fright. At times, he even had urges to capture the boy himself and hide him away, protecting him from his inevitable death. He had grown fond of the boy, ever since he realized Harry wasn't his father, but his mother. That night when Severus killed his beloved mentor, Harry had called him a coward. It hurt. But Severus hid it with anger, and quenched his hurt that night with sufficient alcohol to knock down a bear.
After the war, Severus' body was never found. In his tomb, there was only memory, and the Potions book Harry had held for so long. Severus had vanished off the surface of the Wizarding world, just as he had vanished in the thousands of people's memories, excluding the few who knew his sacrifice. Those few years he spent recuperating and reassessing his life, sorting out the parts of himself which were forgotten in the dark days of his service to Tom Riddle. He didn't know what to expect of his life—he most certainly didn't think he could outlive Voldemort. He stayed in the house Lily used to stay in, where he used to have sleepovers and endless discussions, ignoring the extensive searches Harry led to find him, now that Severus had let him know that he's alive. One night, while going through Lily's stuff, he found a will Lily left him, untouched in the same drawers where Lily kept her most precious sketches of him. He cried that night for the second time in his life, after reading the letter, finally learning that Harry was biologically, his son.
He loves Harry with all his might, especially when Harry came to acknowledge his parentage. He is secretly relieved and proud that Harry had grown into a fine man (yes, a man, not a boy anymore), though he still wakes up at night, wondering what kind of shock he might receive from the Boy-Who-Still-Lives-To-Scare-Him. Scaring Severus Snape took a lot, but Harry limping back from an Auror raid was enough for Severus' heart to leap to his throat. Not that he'll ever admit it. But he'd always tried to get Harry off the Auror Department, to no avail. He was frightened off his wits, that he might once again witness the same green eyes failing, falling into emptiness before his eyes. After all, he'd finally come to terms that he hadn't lost what's left of his heart, and the love he found in Lily was completely restored in the boy who sported those emerald eyes.
These are the things Severus Snape would never say, but no words were needed when action speak louder than words. No words were needed because Harry understood, and that is all Severus needed, at the second chance of a life.