A/N: I am Beater #2 of the Wimbourne Wasps and this round (Round 3) the prompts happened to be about our team names. We also had a word count and extra prompts to work with. All are listed below

Team: Wimbourne Wasps

Word Count: 1,751 – 2,000

Prompts used:

#9: (emotion) surprise

#13: (word) faithful

Stung

Word Count: 1,906

Hermione watched as her fellow classmates buzzed around the room in their black and yellow attires. It was her sixth year at Hogwarts, and there had been quite a bit of parties thrown. Hermione assumed it was because all the students knew that the war would break out sooner rather than later and they all wanted a chance to be in the moment together. It was as if they were saying goodbye without the words. She usually found dances to be an awful waste of time, but she was strangely excited about this. Ron had finally gotten the courage to invite her to a dance and after the whole incident with Lavender Brown, she wondered if going to a dance with Ron would anger Lavender. She wasn't up for stirring trouble within the female cliques. So, she'd spent hours upon hours trying on different gowns after she had realized she couldn't make her own. If she hadn't found this dark yellow dress yesterday, she would have been wearing that dreadful potato sack she had attempted to make. However, she might as well have worn the horrendous frock seeing as her date was over an hour late.

"Where could he be?" she wondered aloud.

She peered around the room at all the happy couples and she couldn't see him. There was no way he could have forgotten about this dance since everyone in the school had turned up. He had even told her the shade of yellow that he wanted her to wear. She'd obeyed him, of course, but if he was going to stand her up then she wished she hadn't bothered.

She wondered if maybe he had been held up in the Common Room and decided that maybe she should go check on him. If he was on his way then they would pass each other in the halls but she just had to go find him.

Her deep yellow dress twirled around her ankles as she set off in search of Ron. Her anger started to flare up even more as she marched to find her date. In the corner of her eye, she had seen something and she immediately wished she hadn't turned her head to find out what it was. Hermione's eyes widened in complete surprise and her heart tightened with a shock of its own. Her breath hitched in her throat as she watched the scene develop in front of her.

She had found her date, but in a way that she had never hoped to find him. His red hair was tangled and completely knotted between the fingers of a girl who was more a thorn in Hermione's backside. Lavender wore a dress in the same color as Hermione, but Hermione felt less like a lady in her own dress after having seen Lavender. Ron's hands had let down her golden locks and were now rummaging through her hair. Hermione didn't doubt that her hair smelled anything short of honey and nor that it felt like air to the touch. She couldn't tell what surprised her the most. She was surprised that her date had managed to find an empty corridor to snog in, yet she was slightly more surprised at the fact that she was watching them without being able to cry.

Suddenly, she felt this peculiar, indescribable sensation rising in the area of her heart before spreading to every inch of her body. She couldn't decide what could possibly be more painful than whatever was gliding through her chest. It wasn't quite as harsh as being run over by a train, but it definitely wasn't something as simple as a parchment cut. It was far worse.

It was a stinging sensation. It was a burning, an excruciatingly painful surge that flooded one part of her chest and then spread to every corner of her body. That was the moment she realized that it had to feel like a sting from a wasp. It wasn't an actual sting, mind you, but it felt like one. She remembered the first time she had ever received such a sting. She had been on vacation with her parents and out of nowhere she'd felt the same stinging sensation burn her entire body.

The stinging was a continuous bout of painful sores that erupted all over her. If she could have been stung in the heart by those fearful wasps, she imagined that this was what it would have felt like.

He didn't know she was there, watching them play tonsil Quidditch and she didn't know if he would have even cared. It was Lavender, after all. He had sworn up and down that they were over and that nothing could make him want to be with her again. Well, she supposed that he had changed his mind, unless Lavender was up to her old tricks again.

It didn't even matter if she was. Hermione considered this moment to be the last of their relationship - if you could even call it a relationship. The ferocious stinging had settled into her skin and stayed there as she walked away from the scene that was causing her so much grief.

She was going to try and enjoy a few more minutes of the ball before returning to her room; she'd already spent too much time waiting for Ron, it was time to let the festive mood sway her. While she was away a sea of yellow and black had swarmed towards the front of the stage and were now dancing to whoever the band happened to be. Hermione had no clue who they were nor did she care.

"It's the Yule Ball all over again," she sighed heavily, knowing that no one was listening.

She scanned the room and her eyes fell on a familiar face with an even more familiar mop of black hair. He was sitting by himself at a table, as he usually did at these things, without the company of his date. The stinging of the recent sights had not fully subsided, but they lessened when she saw a heart that resembled her own. She walked over there casually after picking up two glasses of the sweet nectar that had been provided and set a glass down in front of him.

"How do we always end up here?" Harry questioned, not looking at Hermione.

He had known she was there before she announced herself. Of course he knew; there wasn't much he didn't know about his best friends.

"That's a great question," Hermione answered, sipping her drink.

It tasted of warm honeysuckle and had gold flecks floating around in the cup. Hermione wasn't quite sure what they were but she imagined that it was part of the theme that the Hufflepuffs had come up with. It was them that had planned the ball.

"You mean to tell me that Hermione Granger doesn't have an answer to a question?" Harry teased.

"I know it's shocking, but the answer to your question requires a great deal of experience. As much as I hate to admit it, I have no experience in this particular area," Hermione informed.

"Where's Ron? I haven't seen him all night," Harry questioned curiously.

"There's a pair of black and yellow snoggers in a dark and semi-empty corridor just outside of the Great Hall," Hermione said quickly.

"You're joking!" Harry exclaimed.

"I wish I was," Hermione said, gulping down the last of her drink.

"I can't believe this." Harry shook his head in disgust.

"I can, a little bit. He's never been faithful to anything unless it's food or being late," Hermione tried to joke but she couldn't get it out without frowning.

"How are you holding up?" he asked, genuinely worried about his best friend.

"I feel like I've been stung all over by some rare form of wasp, but I will be fine. I should have guessed it," Hermione answered, checking her skin casually to make sure she had not actually been stung.

"So, you guys danced once and then he left you?" Harry tried to guess what had happened.

"Dance? No, he didn't even make it to the actual ball." Hermione gave a dry chuckle.

"You mean, he hasn't even seen you?" Harry wondered.

"Not once. I even wore a darker shade of yellow because he said that it brought out the golden flecks in my eyes."

"Hermione..."

"Turns out that she's wearing the exact same color and style of dress that I was. Maybe I should have known."

Hermione just shrugged and silently wished that she could get up and get another drink, but she resisted. She wasn't planning on staying much longer. The festive mood couldn't sway her.

"It's fine, though. He's out there, pollinating another useless flower and I'm stuck in here. I think it will always be like that."

"You can't think like that," Harry tried to console.

"It doesn't matter if it's true. You have Ginny and Ron has Lavender. Before you know it, you will all have hives of your own and I'll be the lone witch who is buried beneath her mountains of books and drowning in her tea full of honey."

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," Harry said, patting Hermione's hand under the table.

Hermione realized she was getting all worked up over something that had not happened yet. She was only sixteen. What did she know about this kind of stuff? She could feel her ears getting hot and a slight buzzing echoing through them.

"Where is Ginny anyway?" Hermione wondered, shaking her head slightly to get rid of the sound.

"She's not well. In fact, could you check on her? I promised her I would stay at the dance for at least a couple of hours. She'll be angry if she finds out I only stayed for one," Harry pleaded.

"Yes, of course. I was leaving anyway. I don't want to stay in this dress any longer,"

Hermione gave Harry a light pat on the back before leaving the black and yellow room of constant chatter. The veil of stinging and buzzing had not left her, but they were mild pains now compared to the aching loneliness she felt.

She was forced to pass by the semi-empty corridor where the black and yellow duo were still pollinating. She wasn't as disgusted as she had been the first time she caught them, but it was still very saddening. The stinging come back in full force and Hermione had to rub her hand over chest to keep herself from crying, unlike before, the tears seemed ready to flow now. Why couldn't he have been faithful to her for once in his life? She didn't know what she had done wrong to deserve something this low. She doubted that she would ever wish to speak to him again, but she didn't exactly have a choice in the matter.

She couldn't remember the walk to the Common Room or her arrival in front of the portrait of the Fat Lady. All she remembered was falling onto the couch, burying her face in Ginny's lap and crying. The stinging, the buzzing, and the constant pain that had been with her since the night ended had finally caught up to her. If this was heartbreak, she wanted nothing more of it. She didn't know what to call it other than a horrible battle with the fiercest wasps.

She had been stung.