Chapter Five

Two weeks later Professor Snape held Ayla back after class.  After bidding a rather confused Bill farewell, she walked up to his desk expectantly.  "You wanted to see me, Professor?"

"We were wrong, Miss Landau," he said, rising from his chair.  "We were totally and completely off the mark."

She stared at him.  "Sir?"

He sighed.  "However faulty the Flu-Fighter Draughts were," he said, "that wasn't the problem."  He walked out from behind the desk and picked up a dish that was lying on it.  "I have here a sample of the virus, taken from the throat of a five-year-old male."

She took the dish from him.  Lovely.  Absolutely lovely.  It looked like any other virus she'd ever seen in a petri dish—and she'd seen quite a few, her father being a Biologist/surgeon.

"We have to figure out another solution to the problem," he went on, grabbing the dish out of her hands.  "I will see you here at eight, then?"

She nodded, willing away the blush that was threatening to creep up.  She quickly took her leave, trying to not to smile.  When she was safely out of the classroom and in the hallway, however, she couldn't stop a large grin from appearing on her face.  A whole evening with Snape!  Maybe a whole month of evenings!

Bill was waiting for her at the end of the corridor.  He had an annoyed look on his face.  She quickly quelled her grin. 

"What was that all about?" he said, frowning.

"Hmm?"  They started walking towards the Great Hall for lunch.  "He said I have to come back tonight."

"Again?"  She noticed that he was clenching his fists in anger.  She smirked to herself.  Well, wasn't she just a Weasley-magnet, hmm? 

"Why?  Haven't you done enough for him already?"

She shook her head.  "No, he wants me to finish helping him.  Apparently we didn't do it properly last time."

"Do what?" asked Bill suspiciously.

"Stop the virus, you fool!" she said, laughing.  "What did you think I was doing down there, polishing his broomstick?"

Bill blushed and looked down.  Apparently he had been thinking that she was doing sexual things.  Interesting.

"Bill, you know me better than that!  You know that I haven't even kissed a boy!  Why would you think that I—"

"Because all the girls think he's the greatest thing to walk the face of the earth!" Bill interrupted, looking murderous.  "And you seem to think the same!"

"Bill, just because I think someone is handsome doesn't mean I'm going to fall on my knees and screw them!" 

He shrugged.  "Well, you spend all your evenings down in the dungeons with the new, young, attractive teacher!  What am I supposed to think?"

"That I'm helping him with a project!" she yelled.  "Which I am!"

"Oh."

She shook her head.  "Honestly, Bill.  If I didn't know you better, I'd say you were jealous."

He blushed again.

***

After three weeks of finding out nothing, Ayla was ready to throw in the towel. 

"There isn't a cure!" she yelled in frustration as the virus, once again, resisted all effects of the Potion that Ayla and Snape had administered.  They had been altering the Flu-Fighter Draught slightly every time, and nothing seemed to stop the virus.

Snape regarded her with amusement.  "Giving up, Miss Landau?"

 "Why shouldn't we?" she said, lighting a fire under a new cauldron.  "It would be better than having to spend endless hours down here trying to do something that can't be done!"

Something in his eyes flickered.  "Would you rather not spend your evenings down here?"

She shook her head.  "No!  I mean, I don't mind the work, really, and the money's nice."  He was paying her sixteen sickles an hour, which added up to a lot after a while.  She was going to be able to buy everyone really nice Christmas presents, especially since she didn't have very many people to shop for.  Sometimes having no friends came in handy.

"I understand that this can be time-consuming," he said, "and if you wanted to stop, I would fully understand."

Her heart stopped.  "Trying to get rid of me?" she said in what she thought was an offhand, sarcastic voice.  In truth, she felt like she was going to cry.  Did he really want her to stop working with him?

"Not at all," he said, looking at her quit seriously.  "Quite the contrary.  You are not only wonderful at Potion-making, your company is actually somewhat preferable to working in solitude."

She raised an eyebrow, her chest doing flip-flops.  "So you don't have an underdressed woman stop by here every evening, then?" she said, smiling slightly.  She'd learned by then that when he was in a good mood, you could joke with him a bit, as long as you didn't go overboard with it.

"Is that what everyone thinks, then?" he asked, measuring out some liquid into a vial.  "That I have a prostitute come by thrice a week to fulfill my desires?"

She grinned at him.  "So you don't?"  She picked up a spoon and gently stirred the contents of her cauldron.  "Well, that completely disproves that theory."

Snape, who had been about to pour the contents of the vial into the cauldron, stopped suddenly.  "What theory?"

"That you have a whore swing by here every night," she replied.

"And what, pray tell, does this theory apply to?"

"The male population of the school came up with that idea," she explained, waving her wand and turning down the flame underneath her cauldron.  "They all think you're insane for ignoring the incredibly blatant advances of Professor Peary."

Snape chuckled.  "Really?"

She nodded.  "Personally, I think you're rather smart to ignore her," she said, grabbing a boomslang and beginning to skin it.  "She is the most annoying woman---" she stopped, looking at the Potions Master, fearing he was going to be angry with her for badmouthing a teacher.

Too her relief, he gave her a half sneer, half smile, and nodded.  "I quite I agree, Miss Landau."  He had a look of disgust on his face.  "The way that woman throws herself at me—"

"And the way Bill goes on, and on, and on about her," Ayla broke in, scowling.

"Jealous?" he asked, clearly amused.

She stirred her cauldron again.  "Not in the slightest."  She snorted.  "That's Bill's job.  He's the jealous one.  Which is strange, because we aren't involved or anything."

He beckoned to her.  "Sit, the potion has to sit for an hour, since we added the shrivel fig."  She nodded and sat in her usual chair.  He sat in the chair opposite her.

"If you aren't seeing each other," Snape said, as though there hadn't been a break in their conversation,  "then what is he jealous of?"

Severus wasn't sure why he had asked that last question—for his own curiosity's sake, he supposed, though why the trials and tribulations of a bunch of sixteen-year-olds interested him was beyond him.

Too his surprise, she blushed.  "Well, Sir…he's jealous…er…see, he thinks that when I'm down here, I'm…not exactly helping you with Potions."  She looked down, obviously embarrassed.

He chuckled, even more surprised.  "He thinks we're sleeping together?"

It was her turn to be surprised.  "Yes, something like that."

Severus shook his head.  "And he's jealous of this?"

"I think so," she said, frowning.  "I mean, he certainly acted like he was.  I wouldn't really know, though—I mean, I don't usually get attention from boys."  She looked down again.

Silence passed for a few minutes before Severus said, "Studying the floor patterns, are you?"

She looked up and grinned.  "Oh yes.  It's fascinating the way the marble comes together in swirls, don't you think?"

"Incredibly."  She was incredibly sarcastic, as well.  Witty sarcastic, though.  Not sarcastic like he was—in a hurtful, cruel sort of way. 

"If you don't mind me asking, Miss Landau," he said, wanting to say something that had been on his mind since the first class he'd had with her, "why is it that you are friends with Mr. Weasley?"

She frowned.  "Me and Bill?"  Her face scrunched up, as it always did when she was deep in thought. 

Wait.  Have I actually noticed that about her?

I notice strange things about people all the time, he told himself.  Don't make something of nothing, Snape.

"Well, I guess it started my first week here," she said, snapping him out of his thoughts.  "Being muggle-born and all, none of the Slytherins wanted anything to do with me…and I was walking around the castle, cursing everything from Penny Lane to my right foot, when I ran into Bill.  Literally."  She smiled, almost wistfully.  "I yelled at him, he yelled back, and before either of us knew what we were doing, sparks were shooting out of our wands.

"Well, McGonagall found us, and, as you can imagine, she was a bit"---she coughed—"angry with us---"

"I remember getting caught fighting by her," Severus said, thinking back to all the points and detentions she'd caused him.  "Not pleasant."

"Well, as punishment, she decided to make us have detention together with Hagrid."  She shuddered.  "I still refuse to go near that dog of his."

Severus laughed.  He was not a fan of Fang, either.

"But it was something that Bill and I agreed on, and we ended up having a conversation about how much we loathed that animal.  And before we knew it, we were friends."

Severus nodded.  "You two don't seem to have much else in common, though."

Landau nodded.  "You're right, we don't.  But he pretends to listen to my spiels, and I get him U2 tickets."  She laughed.  "No, it's actually a fair bit deeper than that.  I've just always been friends with him.  Can't explain it."

"Your spiels?"  He raised an eyebrow.

She nodded.  "See, I'm one of those strange people that actually enjoys learning; I bore him to death talking about the side-effects of Potions and explaining who Plato was."  She smiled a bit sheepishly.  "I'm nuts, I know."

"Not at all," he replied, allowing a small smile to appear on his face.  "I'm one of those people myself."

"You'll understand, then," she said, looking at him strangely, "if I use this time to catch up on a bit of reading?"

"Of course."  He felt strangely disappointed.  What, because she'd rather read than talk to you?  Can you blame her?

She nodded and reached into her bag.  She pulled out a book—his book!  The one he'd been looking for since August!  She opened the book to a marked page and began to read.

"Miss Landau," he said coolly, making her look up from her reading, "are you aware that you are reading my book?"

Her eyes widened.  "Oh!"  She closed it and held it out to him.  "I found it outside the castle the second day of school.  I started reading it, and I never got around to finishing it."

He took it from her, making sure he looked suspicious of her story.  He believed her, of course, but it couldn't hurt to have her be frightened of him.

"If you don't mind, Sir," she said, looking nervous (good, she was properly scared), "can I ask you a question about—about one of the ideas?"

He was surprised.  So, she'd actually read it?  Interesting.  Of course, she was muggle-born; it would make sense that she knew who Plato was.  Still, not many sixteen-year-olds were interested in philosophy.

"You may," he replied, wondering what her question could possibly be.

"Well, Sir, when he talks about the differences between teaching and educating—"

They talked for nearly three hours, stopping only when the potions needed to be attended to.  They riffled through the book, her asking questions, him explaining things to her.  She would question every little thing, he noticed, almost as if she was challenging him, not Plato. 

Not that it bothered him.  He was always up for a good challenge.  And so he responded right back, challenging her and forcing her to think on her own.  And she rose to the occasion admirably, he was surprised to see.  Not many would willingly get into a debate with him.  She lost, of course, but that wasn't the point.

The point was that he found it so remarkably easy to speak with her; easier than he found it to speak with many of his colleagues.  She understood his reasoning and logic but would always respond with her own, and Severus had to admit that some of her ideas were actually worth hearing.

She was a marvel, the Landau girl.  Not so strange as she thought herself, though.  The girl took pride in being different from the rest of the world, just as he did.  However, it was amazing how similar she was to him.

Not in everything; she was much more music-obsessed, and far less depressing—but the resemblance was uncanny.  As a student, he'd had few friends (if any) and spent much his time reading, or in a classroom making illegitimate Potions.

Or putting hexes on Sirius Black.

They were both fairly enjoyable.

He found himself spending more and more time around the girl; not only trying to find a cure for the illness, but just talking—talking of thinks he hadn't had anyone to discuss them with in years.  Plato, Machiavelli, Bronte, D.H. Lawrence—she'd read them all.  He most enjoyed her opinion of James Joyce—she was Irish, so she actually understood where he was coming from.  Being Welsh, Severus did not know of the trouble in Ireland firsthand, so it was a bit foreign to him.

She'd actually had quite a bit to say on the troubles in Northern Ireland.   She hailed from Dublin, south of the British rule, but she apparently had cousins in Belfast, and she rarely—if ever—got to see them.

And, on top of all of that, she was Jewish!  Now that was an interesting tidbit.  He wasn't aware that there were any Jews left in Ireland; he'd thought they'd left a long time ago.

"All except us," she'd said when he'd mentioned this.  "My father wasn't interested.  Said he was Irish and wasn't going to budge an inch.  'Course, my mum's Scottish, so she wanted to go live near her family in Glasgow or Edinburgh."  She'd smiled wistfully.  "Personally, I like my family in Glasgow better.  'Course, the two sides hate each other, but they all seem to like my mum.  But I find the Glaswegians much easier to talk to; the ones from Edinburgh are far too spoiled.  They're the rich ones of the family."

She was having trouble carrying out all of the Jewish holidays here, she'd said, which annoyed her parents to no end.  But she apparently was something more of a pagan anyway.  Said she'd found out that most witches and wizards were still polytheistic, and that she'd always been drawn to it anyway.

"It isn't something huge," he'd told her.  "We aren't really very ritualistic.  The old religion just never died out; you'll find that most wizards do something on the equinoxes and solstices.  We celebrate Christmas because it helps us blend in with the muggles."

"And you like the presents," she'd said, grinning.

"That too."

His mother's parents had been Jewish.  Hungarian wizards, they'd used their magic to get out of Europe when Hitler came to power.  They'd gone to Palestine, then moved to England when his mother was eight, fearing that the newly established Israel would be just as dangerous as Europe under Nazi control.

His father's family, however, had been in Wales for more generations than Severus cared to count.  And pureblooded to the last drop.  Even his mother, though foreign, had been pureblooded. 

"I don't understand," Landau remarked one day.  "I mean, why does it matter so much?"

"Being pureblooded?" She nodded.  "Why do people discriminate against Jews, Ayla?"  He'd taken to calling her by her first name; "Miss Landau" seemed a bit formal, especially since they spend so much time around each other. 

"Because it gives them someone to blame things on," she replied bitterly, shaking a bit of dried snakeskin into her cauldron.  "Jews are fabulous scapegoats."

"True as that is," Severus said, smiling slightly, "we both know that fundamentalists do not bomb synagogues because they blame the local rabbi for their tax problems."

She chuckled.  She absently stirred her mixture as she said, "Well, people have preconceived ideas about Jews, and they get more ridiculous every generation.  Parents tell their children, who tell their children…it's a never-ending cycle of misinformation."  She paused.  "Oh. I understand."

"You do.  It all started out harmlessly enough; wizards had to fear muggles in the middle ages; there were far too many witch huntings and killings for them not to."

"But I thought that when witches were caught," she said, brow furrowed, "they just froze the flames.  Real witches, I mean," she added hastily.

He bit his lip.  "Did Binns tell you this?"  She nodded.  He sighed.  That man had been feeding misinformation to children since his own days as a student.  "In truth, before Hogwarts and other magical schools were established, children were taught magic by their parents.  Therefore, muggle-born witches and wizards were often burned at the stake because they could not control their powers."

Her eyes widened.  "Oh!"

"And, on top of that, muggles did persecute many pure-blooded witches who lacked the proper training.  That's why Hogwarts was created in the first place, to provide a safe place where magical children could learn how to protect themselves if any muggle mobs came after them."  Severus frowned.  "However, Salazar Slytherin took his hatred off all things muggle a bit too far—legend has it that he built a secret chamber, in which a horrible monster lives—"

"—Waiting to devour all the muggle-born students," Ayla finished wryly, smirking.  "Don't look so surprised.  I was told that the Heir of Slytherin was going to come and rid the school of Mudbloods because I had the nerve to disgrace Slytherin house.  Or something like that."  She cocked an eyebrow.  "Actually, come to think of it, Oscar Jungular told me that the other day."

"Silly children," Severus muttered, shaking his head, "they shouldn't talk about what they don't understand."

"Hmm?"

"Never mind," he said quickly.  "It's just foolish."  He wiped off his hands with a towel.  "Let's call it a day, shall we?  After all, tomorrow's the last Hogsmeade trip before Christmas."

He hadn't even realized that Christmas was approaching; perhaps this year he would actually manage to sleep through it.  His need for food had usually lured him out of the dungeons; as much as he loathed Christmas, even he was not foolish enough to pass up a Christmas dinner at Hogwarts.

"Yes," she smiled, "and I'll be able to buy everyone lovely presents this year, thanks to the money you've been giving me."

"I haven't given you anything, Ayla," he replied dryly, "it's all coming out of the pockets of the tax payers of Hogsmeade.  Besides," he added, "you've earned it."

She blushed slightly.  "Thank you, Sir."  She cleared her throat, mopping up her spilt armadillo bile.  "Speaking of Christmas, Sir, I was wondering…what do you get a teenage boy?"

He raised an eyebrow.  "For someone who considers to only be friends with Mr. Weasley, you certainly think about him often."

"Who, Bill?"  She laughed.  "I already got him a present; a ticket to a U2 concert.  No, it's Charlie who I don't know what to get."

"He's a Quidditch star, isn't he?"  Severus sneered.  Gryffindors and Quidditch.  It was horrible.  Severus had been a fairly good Chaser in his day, but Slytherins never got any glory, of course.

"Seeker," she answered.  "But I think he's got every Quidditch book in the world, and I am not about to buy him a broom."

He chuckled.  "I should hope I'm not paying you that much."

"Not even close."  She looked thoughtful.  "I could always get him a box of candy," she said, nodding.  "That's always good."

"I think you should put that money to good use," Severus advised.  "Buy them both something expensive."

"I did for Bill," she muttered.  "Circe knows those tickets cost enough."

"You'll think of something, I'm sure."  He paused.  "Why did you ask me?"

She grinned.  "I'm assuming that you were a teenage male at one point," she said lightly.  "I could be wrong, but I very much doubt that you came out of the womb at the fully-grown."

"There are those that disagree," he said, smirking.

"Unless your father is Zeus," she replied, "I think that it is safe to assume that you went through all of the stages of childhood and such."

"Very safe."

***

"I still don't understand why you won't come visit us," Bill said as he, Charlie, and Ayla sat on the Hogwarts Express. 

"I told you I would, but only for New Year's."  Ayla was tired of explaining this to him.  She didn't want Bill knowing why she could only come then, and she always managed to skirt around the question when asked.

He sighed.  "All right," he finally said.  "But I'm expecting my present to be under the tree at the Burrow," he said.  "Find an owl."

She chuckled.  "Only interested in the loot, are we?  Honestly, you're as bad as Ron!"

Charlie laughed.  "Ron is rather gift-oriented, isn't he?"

"Incredibly.  It drives me crazy," Bill remarked.  "He's always begging me for this and that."

Ayla slapped them on the back lightly.  "Cheer up, fellows.  I bought you each fabulous things, seeing as I had an income this past term."

"Ooh, what?" Charlie asked, his face lighting up.

"If I told you," she said calmly, "it wouldn't be as much fun."

"Slytherin," he muttered angrily.

"And proud of it," she replied cheerfully. 

"We're here," Bill said suddenly, grabbing his trunk.

Ayla stiffened.  "Oh?"

"Yes."  He frowned at her.  "C'mon, get your stuff."

Very slowly, she levitated her trunk and Ea's cage off of the train.  Her guitar was still at Hogwarts; she wouldn't be playing it over the break.  She stepped onto the platform and undid the charm, sliding her trunk onto a cart.  Taking a deep breath, she crossed into the muggle world, thinking only about how much she loathed the winter holidays…

***

A/N: I know this took a while, sorry!  Anyway, thanks to: Mrs. Scower, Starlight, Tia, Artisturtle, Ce'Nedra, and Leila C. Snape.

Next Chapter:  We meet Ayla's folks and find out about her home life.  Also, we realize just why she hates Winter Break so much…

Disclaimer: Disclaimer: In no way, shape, or form do I wish anyone to recognize any characters found in the Harry Potter books as belonging to anyone other than J.K. Rowling, publishers such as Bloomsbury Books, Raincoast Books, Scholastic Books, or Warner Brothers, Inc. I do not own characters found in any published works, and can claim only Ayla Landau and Penny Lane at the moment, and some others that will be introduced later.