Chapter 22! *hums cheerfully*

Let's go to a ball, shall we?

Disclaimer: totally not mine! (Oh, except for Carlisle! He's mine!)

-o-

Chapter 22 - Lead On, Reluctant Leader

The Winter Palace was grand, indeed.

So was their entrance, apparently, because the whispers reached new heights when they entered.

The Grand Duke was pleased as punch, realising this would be even better than he had ever expected.

After chatting with the Duke, Hermione looked around.

It's exactly like the game, she thought. Well, that's a relief.

Hermione realised she was, in fact, somewhat excited. If everything was exactly as the game, she would play The Game quite brilliantly.

"Lead on, reluctant leader," Trevelyan said in an amused voice. "Because I think you have a faint idea of what to do."

Hermione sighed, but smiled wryly as she headed towards the lady who had lost her ring.

-o-

Hermione was beyond nervous, waiting for her name to be called.

"Hermione Granger."

Hermione took a deep breath as she began descending the stairs.

"First Advisor and Right Hand of the Inquisitor."

Hermione ignored the whispers, keeping her eyes on the Inquisitor in front of her.

"Fighter of the Inquisition and Protector of the Herald of Andraste."

Did they really need to add that? Hermione thought as she ignored the increase in murmurs, and smiled at the Empress. Merlin, let's just get this over with.

-o-

Trevelyan was quite occupied with the nobles, and Hermione went off on her own, deciding to collect secrets, and perhaps even sneak off to the library, to get that part over with.

"First Advisor and Right Hand of the Inquisitor," a male voice said from behind Hermione, "how intriguing you are."

Hermione put on a smile as she turned around. "You flatter me, Serah."

"I assure you, I am not," the man said, giving her a holier-than-thou smile. "Lord Braxton. Pleasure to meet you."

Oh, Merlin, she thought as she noticed the cunning – or at least the attempt at cunning – glint in his eyes. Lucius Malfoy would eat you for breakfast. Hell, Draco Malfoy would eat you for breakfast. Even on a bad day. Poor man.

"Likewise," Hermione replied, smiling. "are you enjoying the Winter Palace, Lord Braxton?"

"Indeed I am," the lord said, taking a step closer to her. "And you?"

"It is lovely. I rarely get the chance to attend such events. I must say it is a wonderful place."

"Indeed," the lord said again before giving her a look she did not like. "Fighter of the Inquisition, Protector of the Herald herself. Grand titles for such a small thing."

Oh, please, Hermione thought, fighting the urge to roll her eyes. "I try my best, Serah."

"Not easy, I imagine," the lord said, stepping even closer. "Fighter of the Inquisition, they say. I find it hard to believe."

His hand went to her waist, and Hermione reacted without thinking. Shit, don't make a scene, she thought, and managed to not wrestle the man's arm behind his back, but instead took a firm hold of the hand just before he managed to touch her, wringing his thumb in a very awkward position. "I suggest you desist, My Lord," she said evenly. "Appearances may deceive, after all. I am fully capable of breaking the bone in your thumb on two places with a flick of my hand. Thus, I suggest, My Lord, that you keep your hands to yourself."

The Lord paled. "My apologies, My Lady."

"Apology accepted. Now, if you will excuse me, I have elsewhere to be."

She left the pale Lord without another word.

-o-

Within the next hour, Hermione had collected fifteen secrets, 'looted' the library, found everything needed, and was back to the ball before anyone was any wiser.

She delivered the secrets to Leliana, chatted with all too many nobles, and eventually stopped behind a pillar, hoping to catch a breath.

"Well, well," yet another male voice said. "I was hoping to find the little lady causing all the murmurs."

Shit, Hermione thought as she met the eyes of an unmasked man. This man would probably give Lucius Malfoy a run for his money.

The man's eyes had this…glint. A dangerous glint. There was actual intelligence behind those eyes, and the way they observed her made her feel rather uncomfortable.

"Well, here I am, Serah," Hermione said, smiling innocently at the man. "How may I be of service?"

He gave her an amused look. "Perhaps you would be so kind as to enlighten me, My Lady, of how you managed to appear out of nowhere, and then ascend to Right Hand of the Inquisitor in such a short period of time."

There was no use lying to this man, Hermione realised. Oh, well, let's stay as close to the truth as possible, then, she thought, smiling at the man. "I have, in fact, been around for a while, Serah, but I prefer staying out of the spotlight. And even if the titles describe my role in the Inquisition rather aptly, I did not wish for them."

"How peculiar," the man said, gazing at her before inclining his head. "My manners fail me, My Lady. I am Lord Venece."

"Pleasure to meet you, Lord Venece."

"Likewise, Lady Granger."

She cocked her head, gazing back at him. "You do not wear a mask," she said, raising an eyebrow. "I suspect it is because you do not need a mask."

There was a brief flicker of surprise in the Lord's eyes before his neutral expression fell into place again. "And what makes you say that, Lady Granger?"

"I suspect you play The Game rather brilliantly without a mask – perhaps even better, because it confuses your fellow nobles." She paused, searching his expression for a moment. "You weren't always a lord." He was about to object, but she shook her head. "Let me rephrase; you chose to step out of your role as a lord for a part of your life. You have not spent your entire life eating grapes while looking down your nose at everyone."

The Lord raised an eyebrow. "First Advisor, indeed," he said, giving her a slightly intrigued look. "Perhaps I can see why that is. What else, Lady Granger, would you deduce?"

"The nobles bore you. Their pathetic attempts at outplaying you makes you fight the urge to roll your eyes. The noble ladies swoon over you, but they bore you as well. Your indifference only makes them swoon more. You don't want this life, but something made you come back. Whether it was a choice, or something forced you, I do not know."

The Lord was looking at her with an expression of intrigue, mixed with wariness. "And would you oblige me; how do you reach this deduction?"

"You have no mask, and yet, your eyes do not waver when someone looks at you. Your face is your mask. You are not insecure. Your body language, although seemingly relaxed, tells me you are aware of your surroundings. You turned slightly to the side within the first ten seconds of our conversation, so you could have your back to the pillar. No noble would do that. Three women have sent you longing looks, but you have not spared them a glance. Not because you are ignorant of their looks, but because you have no interest. This tells me you have experienced more of life than grapes and arrogance. Thus, Lord Venece, I find myself curious, why are you here? I suspect you are just as reluctant as me to being here."

His expression was completely blank, something that told her she was very close to the truth.

"My brother fell ill, and the illness won in the end. His lungs. My father's health is frail, thus, my mother is left in a rather unfortunate situation." He paused for a moment. "She is showing signs of the same as my father."

"My condolences," Hermione said, softly, "and I am sorry your choices were taken away from you." He looked rather annoyed, and Hermione shook her head. "Do not mistake my apology for pity. I do not do pity."

His expression softened. "If so, I thank you."

"What ails your father?" Hermione asked, cocking her head. "If I may ask?"

He frowned, ever so slightly. "The healers are finding it difficult to answer. He is…yellow. I do not have any other way of describing it."

The liver then, Hermione thought. "His skin is yellow?" Lord Venece nodded. "What about his eyes? The white in his eyes, is it turning yellow?"

Lord Venece gave her a puzzled look. "Yes, in fact, they are."

Hermione thought for a moment. "I am going to ask you a very inappropriate question, My Lord, but I may be able to help, and that is why I ask." He frowned again, but nodded. "Your father…is there any chance he has…not been completely faithful to his wife? Perhaps an encounter with a…lady of the night, so to speak?"

Lord Venece looked at her with wide eyes. "Pardon?"

"I do believe you heard me."

He stared at her for a very long moment, but then he sighed. "I believe at least half of the nobles here could answer your question, so why not. Yes. Yes, there may have been an encounter or two."

Hepatitis, Hermione thought. Extremely likely. She thought for a moment. Did she have anything that would cure hepatitis? Yes! Yes I do!

She even had it with her.

Birth control potion. The advanced kind, which would cure almost any sexual transmitted disease and prevent pregnancy.

"Well," she said, giving him a somewhat hesitant look. "I might be able to help."

"Pardon?" the lord said, again.

Hermione sighed, pulled the small, enchanted pouch from her pocket, and looked at the Lord. "I will give you this on one condition. You will tell no one that I was the one to give you this. And you will tell no one of what I am about to do." The lord looked utterly confused, but nodded, so Hermione waved her hand, first casting a Notice-Me-Not-Charm, and then flicked her hand over the pouch. "Accio monthly potion," she whispered, and a rather large phial containing a light blue liquid swooped into her hand. She quickly proceeded to summon two small phials, filling them with the blue liquid before putting the larger phial back into the pouch, and pocketing the pouch again.

She looked at the Lord. He looked utterly shocked.

"Who are you, really?" he almost whispered. "And…how…why…"

Hermione shook her head. "I have already revealed more than I should. Now, if what I think is correct, this potion will completely cure both your father and your mother. If not…I am sorry for getting your hopes up. Remember my conditions," she finished as she handed him the two phials. "If you should 'forget', you will lose a potential ally, and gain an enemy you don't want in your life." The lord stared at her, and Hermione sighed. "Hopefully, it will cure them. But I strongly suggest your father will keep away from the ladies of the night from now on, because that's where he caught this illness. Your mother caught it from your father. If I am correct that is."

"How do you – how can you," the lord stuttered. "Who are you?"

"Hermione Granger," Hermione Granger replied, shrugging. "Just Hermione Granger. Now, I am afraid I have to leave. I have…things I have to do."

"Things? What things?"

Hermione gave the lord an amused look. "Saving the world, Lord Venece. Will you let me know if the potion worked?"

"Carlisle," the lord said, "do call me Carlisle."

"Carlisle, then. And do call me Hermione. Will you let me know?"

"I will. I will, Hermione. I…thank you."

"I wish you luck, and may you enjoy your evening, Carlisle. Good night."

"Never have I been more certain that our world will be saved, Hermione Granger. I wish you luck. Good night."