The summons comes that afternoon.  Hermione and Severus are finally settled into their living quarters.  The oversized rooms feel more homey - with the bookshelves full in every room, it feels like a bigger and slightly more opulent version of Spinner's End.  Severus has fallen back into the habit of cooking most of their meals, but the servant's bell in the entrance hall has its uses.  

A messenger boy arrives, out of breath, to escort them to the count's private quarters for an audience.  Well, he arrives to escort Severus to the count.  Severus politely informs the messenger that he will not attend the count without Hermione present.  The boy looks absolutely horrified, but- seeing no other opinion- agrees.

If the Count is surprised by Hermione's appearance he gives no indication of it, greeting them warmly as they are shown into his private sitting room by the messenger boy. "My potion's master and his lovely protégé Come in, sit down!" He motions to the servants to pour them wine.

Hermione sits next to Snape on a chaise, and politely tastes the proffered wine.  It is of high quality, she supposes, but too decadent to her taste, sweet and full and grapey.  It is a languid summer afternoon on some country noble's estate.  She much prefers the rustic spanish wines that Severus has taught her to love.  

The count turns to Hermione first, to her surprise.  "And what do you think of the wine, Miss Granger?"

She raises and eyebrow at the count, careful not to smile.  "Decadent," she says, holding his eyes with hers.  "Jeweled footfalls on a bright green manicured lawn.  Perfectly cultivated roses and the contrived laughter and whispered insults of bored nobility attending a garden party at your country estate."

The Count's perfectly shaped and penciled eyebrows rise up into his powdered forehead in genuine surprise, his painted lips twitch upward in amusement.  "She is like a beautiful version of you, Snape!  How refreshing!  You, Miss Granger, are neither boring nor nobility and I think that we shall get along most splendidly."

He says this as if he is conferring some great honor upon her.  She is tempted to say something cutting about getting along going both ways but, wisely, restrains herself. She gives him a small, contrived smile, nods, and turns her gaze up to Severus. He drapes his arm around the back of the chaise behind her, and places his fingertips at the nape of her neck above her collar.

Hermione feels approval, reassurance, and possessiveness in the gesture.  She wonders if they are communicating magically somehow, or if they are just in tune with one another.  

"Miss Granger is the joy of my entire existence," Severus says to the Count. "She possesses an intellect that rivals my own, and many qualities of which I am lacking. She will also be my assistant for the duration of my employment with you."

The Count nods at Severus, acknowledging the change in subject to the business at hand.  

"This is when I tell you why you are here, hmm?" asks the Count.

"If you feel so inclined," replies Severus smoothly, "We can go to work on accomplishing your objectives."

The Count summons the servant to refill their wine goblets, then has him leave the decanter on the table before banishing every human from the room save themselves.

"Shall we- how do the Americans say- cut to the chase?" he laughs at his own joke.  Hermione and Severus wait patiently, Hermione's face is schooled into polite interest.  Severus looks bored.  "I am getting old," says the Count.  "I am beginning to feel my mortality.  I want your help in countering this.  I have heard a rumor, Snape, that the Dark Lord had you researching a way to counter the death curse."

Hermione feels Severus' fingers grip her neck a little firmly, but outwardly that is his only sign of alarm.  Inside, he is reeling.  He thought he would be onhand to brew silly extravagances and lend credibility to the Count's carefully crafted false reputation as an intellectual.

"He did ask it of me. Naturally, I was loathe to do as he wished."

"Still," says the Count, "You must have made some progress, even if you didn't tell him.  The Dark Lord was an accomplished legilimens- surely you did not risk defying him entirely."

"You are wise, My Lord," says Severus blandly.  "I did some initial inquiry, although my research was far from producing any viable results at the time of the Dark Lord's demise."

"I would like you to carry on with that research, Master Snape.  And you will inform me of your needs."

Severus nods.

"Now," says the Count, rising from his chair.  Severus and Hermione quickly follow him.  "For your second task we must visit the library."

Hermione reminds herself to mask her excitement.  It won't do, she knows, to reveal her weaknesses to a powerful, vain man seeking immortality.  And - besides Severus - books are her greatest weakness.

After taking the lift to the ground floor of the palace, they traverse numerous back corridors ('to avoid pesky nobles') and emerge in an ornate entrance hall on the other side of the castle.  The door to the library is small and wooden.  Hermione would not have noticed it if it weren't for the guards.  The smarten up and salute as the count approaches in his mincing- but somehow still dignified- stride.  The library door swings open of its own accord to admit the Count.

The room behind the door is an odd, little room.  An odd, little room with no books save for one: a giant old tome rests on a table.  In front of the table, a big leather chair.  On the other side of the room, another unremarkable door.  

"Remarkable," says Severus quietly, immediately moving across the room to the tome on the table.  "May I?" he asks the count.

The count gestures gracefully for Severus to proceed.  Severus pulls out the big leather chair.  "Come and sit down, love," he says to Hermione.  She does.

Severus opens the giant tome, flipping through the pages.  It is in Italian; Severus reaches into his robes and produces a pair of ordinary looking wire rimmed spectacles.  He holds them out to Hermione.  She puts them on.   ah.  translation charm.   Now, the tome appears to be written in English.  

Hermione gasps with delight when she realizes that the tome contains, and the significance of the insignificant door.  The tome is simply a list of subject upon subject, all in alphabetical order.  Next to each subject is a number.  Hermione looks carefully at the little door across the room.  The door knob isn't just a door knob, but a dial.  

She flips through the tome at random, and finds the listing: History, Venice: 37.   She stands, moves across the room the the insignificant door.  Around the doorknob are a series of numbers; the doorknob has a brass needle like that of a compass, but stationary.  She adjusts the needle to the number thirty seven, then gives the door a gentle push.  

Inside, a world of magical knowledge is laid out before Hermione.  The library is tall and arched like a cathedral, and Hermione agrees with the sentiment behind the architecture.  It is three stories tall, with balconies lining the walls on either side above her head.  In front, where the altar would be, an enormous reading desk.  And in front of the desk, floor to ceiling windows.  

Hermione gasps in amazement, then laughs at herself.  The windows are obviously enchanted to show whatever view a person wishes to see.  To welcome Hermione and Severus to this church of knowledge, the count has enchanted the window with a view of hogwarts castle, reflected perfectly in the calm waters of the black lake.

"How many rooms?" Hermione says it quietly, more to herself than to the count.

The count answers her anyway.  "More than a thousand, Miss Granger." His voice is very close behind her, and it takes her everything she has not to startle at his close proximity.

She feels Severus move in behind her, between her and the count.  He puts his arms around her shoulders and she relaxes into him with a soft sigh.  "It is the largest known depository of magical knowledge," he says to her, his voice soft and low.  

The count stands off to the side, watching the Potions Master whisper to his protégé.  "Your Master is a very dangerous man, Miss Granger, yet you do not flinch from him."

"Love is more powerful than fear, Lord Spumoni."  There is a finality in her tone that forbids further conversation on the topic.

The count lets it rest. "Come, then, I have something truly astounding to show you."

They return to the antechamber.  This time, the count takes the doorknob in his hand and turns the needle to room six hundred and thirty seven.  He gives the door a gentle push and it swings silently open.  

The room the enter seems exactly the same as the previous.  Same long tall arched room, same balconies, same window with a view of Hogwarts.  In the front of the room, instead of a desk, is a massive stone tablet.

Hermione is only vaguely curious until she feels Severus go still as a statue beside her.  He even stops breathing for a moment. She looks up at his face, as still as the stone in front of them, a carved marble bust. Then she sees his nostrils flare. He is inhaling very slowly.  

"Is that- The Emerald Tablet, my Lord?" Severus says softly, reverently.  All his carefully constructed artifice is gone from his face.  His expression is that of a pilgrim, crawling on his knees to the remains of St James in the great cathedral at Santiago de Compostela.  

"Yes indeed, my friend."  The count begins to walk up the gallery to the tablet, Severus and Hermione follow.

"It was said to be destroyed by Diocletian in the third century," replies Severus, regaining his composure as they approach.

"Diocletian had a wizard in his entourage who recognized the contents of the tablet and saved it.  That is what I have been told."

"Is this the primary source material used by Nicholas Flamel in his creation of the Philosopher's Stone?"  Hermione asks, her eyes devouring the hieroglyphs and other magical symbols covering the tablet.

"Ten points to Gryffindor!" says the count, laughing at his own joke.

"So," says Severus blandly, "You want me to make you the philosopher's stone and also make you immune to the death curse?  Anything else?  Find the crumple-horned snorkack in my spare time?"

"Always the dour fellow, isn't he?" the count says conspiratorially to Hermione.  "How can you stand his lack of cheer?"

Hermione raises an eyebrow at the count.  "He has his redeeming qualities."

Hermione sees Severus' lip twitch at that.  It was almost a smile.  

"Can you think of a better wizard to study this tablet, Snape?  If so, I'm all ears."

"Several," says Snape, a deep frown on his face.  "Shall I write you a list?"

The count shakes his head at this.  "I, myself, can think of no better man than you."

"There is your mistake then, my Lord, as you are leaving out slightly more than half of the entire wizarding population." Hermione smiles a bit at this. "If it is your wish that Miss Granger and I decipher the tablet, we shall decipher the tablet.  Might I suggest that you also have me make any number of frivolous potions for you and those highly favored in your court?  It won't do to have half of Venice suspicious about my presence here."

"I assure you, Master Snape, more than half of Venice is already suspicious about your arrival here.  But of course.  Half my court is eager to curry favor with you."

"Have them curry favor with you instead," Snape says, his lip curling as if he has something distasteful in his mouth.  "Send me the ones who succeed. I will not brew love potions, felix felicious, or truth serum."

The count frowns at this.  "Really, Snape, I meant to talk to you about-"

Severus cuts him off. "I made it clear in my letter, my lord.  Respectfully, there will be no discussion."

The count looks extremely unhappy, but he bows his head in acquiescence.  "Fine.  Make me immortal and I will have no need of luck, at least. I'm afraid love and truth may always elude me."

"As they do us all, in one way or another, my lord," Snape replies smoothly. Hermione wonders if this is the way he spoke to Voldemort.  He begins to make his way to the exit, Hermione follows just behind his elbow, and the count trails after them.


Later, back in their quarters, Severus sinks into a deep leather chair with an uncharacteristically dramatic sigh.  "A pompous megalomaniac wants me to make him immortal," he says.  "What could possibly go wrong?"