8.

Er...thank you Nicole times 3. :-P (I think you pushed "enter" three times while it was still processing your review? Either way it's great, it upped my review count....)

With more people reading this, I'm throwing myself into it more. I originally though it would at most be ten chapters, but it seems that I'll end up with one of those fics that's about twenty or so chapters... .:-/ That should be annoying enough to people who encounter the story for the first time, and realize they have to slog through thirty chapters to get to the point....sigh.

I will not bring Miguel back until the end due to apparent hatred for him.sob

Well here it is chapter 8...

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Hermione swooned a little, and leaned onto the counter for support as she felt her heart beat in her head. She recognized the peculiar feeling from when she had experimented with Polyjuice Potion in second year. Closing her eyes, she stumbled over to the green couch and collapsed on it, deciding to let the Glamour run its course...she felt herself pass out as she felt her skin start to tingle...

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A half hour later, she opened her eyes, and after a few moments of wondering where she was, sat up with a groggy feeling remembering what she had just ingested.

"Those two...." She muttered to herself. "They could make it more comfortable couldn't they...?" She nearly jumped when she realized her normally husky voice was now higher pitched and breathy. She realized the full extent of what she had just done, and was alarmed enough to want to start fearing what she looked like. (Though she didn't thing of herself as a vain individual, she did harbor the hope that she didn't look like Millicent Bullstrode.)

She swung her legs off, and walked with shaky knees to the bathroom to see hers self. As she entered the room, she apprehensively turned on the light switch and walked slowly to the mirror, and gave her self an appraisal.

Her hair still maintained its length and texture, but was a darker more auburn color than her usual brown. Her face was also seemingly the same shape, but her lips were a little bit fuller, and her eyes had an exotic look as they were now a lighter hazel from her usual deep chocolate brown. Her nose, usually upturned a little was now had a ramrod straight ridge, and was very Grecian. She raised an eyebrow, and when the figure in the mirror did the same she fully felt the implication of having a body that was hers, and yet not hers. It was rather queer, but the changes were rather subtle and she actually liked what she saw. She immediately yanked that vain though, and tried to pull her train of though back into the business at hand.

Stepping back from the full length mirror, she was glad to note her tall frame was not changed, though her neck was a little bit longer looking. Glancing at the wall clock, she saw that it was 8:45. She was to be at the Twin's store by 9:30, and she would have to change out of her normal office clothes. .

Heading to her closet, she sighed as she realized she would have to wear some clothes she hadn't worn for a good five years.

"Accio skirt." She sad halfheartedly, and her black skirt came zooming to her where she was sitting on her bed. She knew from experience that at Death Eater meetings, and now Servants of the Serpent, the woman liked to dress up as though attending a regular old party, and tried to wear their best, though collectively choosing always wearing black. "How festive." She thought to herself.

As she struggled to get both of her now rather voluptuous thighs through the pleated black tiered skirt that reached midway down her legs, she summoned her black blouse. She then went through an even more violent struggle to get on a pair of pantyhose. She nearly fell off her perch on the bed and upon hearing the Munch's Scream figure cackling at her with his cheeks still in his hands in the hallway, she hissed a rather un-ladylike. "You can bloody well shut up!"

When she finished getting up to put on her black pumps, she sweating from the effort. She changed her jewelry to the more antique silver styles that the Dark ladies preferred, and let her newly auburn hair loose. She also ringed her eyes with a little kohl, giving her an even more pale pallor. She then pulled on the hooded black robe that was a staple in costume to the Dark side.

She looked at herself in the mirror, and satisfied that she looked nothing like she usually did, whispered the spell, and with a pop, she left the apartment.

"I hope she plans to dress like that all the time!" said the Scream figure, while a girl from a nearby Monet painting gasped and whacked him with her parasol.

"The nerve..." she sniffed flouncing back to the French countryside in her own painting.

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As she felt herself arrive in the store, Hermione felt a wave of nausea go over her. Apparently, her body hadn't adjusted to the spell yet. She grabbed on to a shelf of Yakking Yo-Yo's, which immediately started telling bad jokes as she accidentally jolted them

She heard the back door open, and Fred walked hurriedly towards her. "Miss, I'm sorry but our store is- Good grief, our Glamour Goddess has arrived. You're probably still feeling a little kick from it?" he said hastily holding her hand and shoulder and leading her to the resource room.

"Fred. That was more ghastly than Henxly Juice. What on earth is in it?" she said though clenched lips.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" he answered smugly, and Hermione decided that she didn't.

Fred opened the door, and whispered through it, "It's all right. It's 'Mione. Draco, be careful, she'll be feeling a bit wonky for about fifteen minutes still."

She gazed around the small room, where a fire was blazing. Next to it stood Snape with a small curved dagger and a bottle of some potion in either hand. Neville was also there, with his wand out. She turned to see Draco standing on the other side, similarly dressed as her, his shaggy blonde hair slicked back like his father's always was, his cloak fastened tightly with the hood up. He looked at the floor when Hermione glanced at him, and Hermione felt a little stab of shame at losing her temper.

"Here." Said George tossing her a small ball of blue glass, and she deftly caught it. She recognized the Ministry's Aid Crystal. "You know what to do."

"Hermione, if anything happens, all you have to do its blow on it. I mean anything." Neville said, with a little worry in his voice. The Crystal would rapidly send a signal to the ministry who would send out emergency forces for rescue based on the location of the crystal. She pocketed the ball in the pocket of her cloak, and cleared her throat self consciously. Just then, the cuckoo clock on the wall struck 9:30 PM.

Snape gasped audibly, and raised his sleeve. "The calls gone out. Hurry up Mr. Malfoy."

Hermione couldn't pull her gaze away from the dark mark that was on Snape's arm, now seeming to pulse and writhe. Draco went up to Snape and raised his own sleeve. Snape opened the cap of the bottle and dashed a drop of the potion on to Draco's inner wrist where it hissed.

"Mérde..." he hissed though gritted teeth.

Snape then nicked his Dark Mark with the dagger, and as dark blood welled up he pressed it against Draco's arm gripping his wrist.

They both closed their eyes, and a convulsion seemed to go through Draco's entire body. Hermione averted her eyes and closed them. It was sickening, seeing the two of them sharing that pain. They pulled apart, and Hermione saw what looked like the Dark Mark branded into Draco's arm. She held back the gasp for air she couldn't seem to get.

"Come. Before they get suspicious." Draco said with a wheeze. He grabbed her arm, and stood in front of the fire. He grabbed a handful of powder out of the fishbowl that George and Fred kept their Floo powder in.

"To the Ring of SALZAAR!" he said, shouting the last word and pulling them both into the Floo network.

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After what seemed like five minutes of endless sooty spinning, they finally stopped. She coughed as she accidentally breathed in what felt like a pail full of ash.

"Come." Said Draco in sotto voice, his voice seeming rumbling peculiarly as he whispered in her ear. "Whatever you do, don't speak. I'll tell you more in the carriage."

"Carriage?" she questioned finally taking a look around her. She realized that it was relatively quiet with some chatting, and a great many hooded figured were standing around in what appeared to be an inn, where carriages where arriving one by one near the open door. The figures were entering them in pairs.

"Sh!" He hissed pulling up his hood. Hermione followed his cue, and he pulled her to the door. As they stood waiting, a figure came up to Draco and slapped him on the back.

"Hey Dragon! Who's the friend?" said an oddly familiar voice, which Hermione couldn't seem to place, though it niggled at her brain.

'Oh, just someone who's sympathetic to our situation. Newly graduated, thinking about joining." Said Draco in a gruff voice.

"Oh really? Well I hope you find yourself welcome at the Servants. Just don't snag our dragon here." Said the figure that was rather shorter than Hermione, the last few words said petulantly, as though they had special meaning. She simply nodded her head.

As the person walked away, a black Victorian styled carriage came up and Draco opened the door and hastily got in. Hermione followed, and upon getting in, almost slipped on the little step under the door. Draco grabbed her arm before she fell, and yanked her into the carriage. She landed on the cushioned seat with an "oof", and felt the carriage immediately take off as the door shut.

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"Alright. Why couldn't I talk?" she questioned, rearranging her cloak.

"Simply because I couldn't trust you with a slip of tongue." He said avoiding her gaze. "And-" he continued as she started to huff in her seat, "because you need a working knowledge before I let to interact with the others. This is an informal meeting, meaning it's more of a party, but that doesn't mean you won't hear information. Now, the key is, they all think you're a new member I've inducted, and they won't question me. So you'll be able to mingle with everyone, including the men, which the women do not usually do. Dance, flirt, talk, do whatever it is you have to do to butter these people up. And talk with the women too. Get into their inner circle, lord knows I can never seem to." He said, running his hand through his slicked back hair. "I can't always be with you, it will seem odd. But if you do need to speak with me, just brush up against me, or wait by the vase in the foyer."

"Foyer. Right." She said, remembering the layout in the brief. "Is there a check of the Dark Mark?" she questioned.

"Usually, but if you're a new initiate, they won't bother."

'Huh. Rather easy to get in isn't it." She said more to herself than anything. "Oh, who was that who came up to us? She seemed familiar, but I couldn't place her."

"That, Granger, was Parkinson. Please avoid her as much as possible. You may not care for my past, but she is past that could hurt our mission." He said in a rather short voice, turning to look out the window.

Hermione filed the information away, and turned to watch the castle that was fastly approaching.

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A.N.- That was more informational filler than actual story , but the next chapter should be more exciting.

-.-;

Teaser- A dance, a ball , that does not end at midnight. And the party's end isn't quite fairytale happiness...