Hermione, satisfied, leaned back in her swivel chair and, for the first time, took a look at her surroundings. When she had first arrived at Hogsmeade's only Internet café she had been far too keyed up with her discovery to have taken a good look around. Plus, it was pretty exciting to be allowed out unsupervised on a Friday evening – McGonagall had taken some persuading, but being Hermione Granger had its bonuses. It was unlikely she'd have bought the excuse of "needing the Internet to do homework" from any other student on a Friday night.
The kerosene lamps threw a dim light over the cramped room, and looked somewhat at odds with the twelve brand-new Dell computers arranged at intervals, not to mention the printers, scanners, and Gaggia coffee machine that was hissing away in the corner. A stereotypically wart-nosed witch sat behind the bar, reading a romance novel, and glancing sourly in Hermione's direction every once in a while. Hermione was the only customer, and had the feeling the proprietor preferred business to be slow. She took another sip of her hazelnut mocha and considered, that as the only customers for an internet café in a town like Hogsmeade (where most of the inhabitants found the concept of electricity alien and puzzling) could be the odd commercial traveller or perhaps a few Muggle-born Hogwarts students at weekends, it was most likely a front for some sort of minor criminal operation. She shrugged her shoulders, made a mental note to ask Mundungus Fletcher about it next time she was at Grimmauld Place, and turned back to the screen.
In front of her in cold black and white was the symbol she had last seen emblazoned on Doris Sue Ethel's arm. It raised a number of interesting questions in Hermione's mind, but more importantly, it added weight to the tentative theory she had begun to form about Doris's mysterious background.
"So... what next?" she murmured to herself, catching a glare from the witch in the corner. She could write an email – but that might not get her an immediate answer, and she couldn't hang around the Internet caff much longer, not at nine Sickles per half-hour. The word livejournal, at the bottom of the screen, caught her eye. She could always... but was it really the right thing to do? After all, Doris Sue Ethel might not want Hermione poking her nose into her business. She seemed fairly happy at Hogwarts these days...
The tension in the air was palpable as Hermione slipped back in through the portrait hole and found a place – standing room only, against the wall - with Harry. The room, though crowded, was hushed – the onlookers seemed to be trying to breathe quietly.
Hermione saw where all the attention was focused – the work in progress at the centre of the Common Room. Doris was still perched on her high chair, surrounded by the team of cosmetics enthusiasts. Lavender Brown's face was tense, but she maintained her aura of control as she applied lip liner with a steady hand. However, Parvati Patil, out of Doris's line of vision, was the very picture of anguish, and at the front of the circle Dean Thomas and Ron were clutching each other's hands, white-knuckled.
"What'd I miss?" whispered Hermione as quietly as she could. Harry leaned over to her.
"It's not going well," he hissed. "Pansy and Cho tried the Avril Levigne look, but that was a disaster. Then they went for a more casual formal effect, but it all went horribly wrong. Cho panicked. They were nearly going to send for Dumbledore for a minute there, but Lavender calmed them down a bit. Now she's trying for something like Serena Grimsworthy on the cover of Witch Weekly – look..." as the magazine was passed down their way, "but Parvati doesn't look too hopeful..."
Hermione, who had passed Cho (in floods of tears) on her way up, could appreciate the seriousness of the situation. Glancing around, she could see the worry on the faces of the crowd, from Pansy and Dean at the front, to Lee and Angelina at the back. She noticed even Ernie MacMillan and Justin Finch-Fletchley had turned up to show their support.
Lavender, at last, laid down her lip pencil. "All done!" she said brightly. Hands shaking slightly, she took Seamus Finnegan's shaving mirror and held it up to Doris so she could see the effect. "So, what do you think?"
The crowd held its breath. Doris peered at her reflection, inclining her head slightly to first the left and then the right, to examine the work from all angles. Then, realisation suddenly dawning, her mouth dropped open, and she looked at Lavender and Parvati in shock. Parvati, unable to stand the pressure any longer, clutched her fists to her mouth and ran out, sobbing.
"Well, there's always cosmetic transfiguration – "began Neville in an attempt to be helpful. Angelina clapped a hand over his mouth.
"It's awful!" cried Doris, tears running channels through the foundation on her cheeks. "What have you done with my eyebrows?"
"Well," Lavender choked out, "at least – at least you don't have a monobrow any more." Her assistants looked at each other, and then nodded wildly at Doris.
"That doesn't help! Look at me! Look at me! I'm hideous! Oh, it's awful!" Doris, by crying profusely and burying her face in her hands, had smeared the carefully applied makeup into something resembling a Halloween mask. It was a slight improvement. "I'm so ugly, I'm the ugliest creature alive, and Draco Malfoy will never like me! I hate my life!"
Her audience was not going to allow this; they were already crowding around her and indignantly refuting her hysterical statements. "You are not ugly," said Seamus Finnegan firmly, removing some of the worst smears of eyeliner with a baby wipe. "You are beautiful. On the inside. And if Draco Malfoy doesn't realise it, well, that's his loss."
"Exactly," said Dean Thomas, patting her on the head kindly. "I'll go put the kettle on and we'll all have a nice cup of tea." He then left, but the others, who were busy reassuring her that she was a lovely person and she had lots of friends, didn't notice.
Hermione, who had remained on the periphery, decided not to join them. A large group of concerned Hogwartsians could do a better job of comforting than she ever could. Besides, she thought to herself, her Friday Evening pass was still valid, and it was time she paid someone a little visit.