Hermione panted, racing towards the iron gates and as far as possible from the dark building looming in the horizon. With every inch closer she got to the gate, her sore body screamed for her to halt, but she knew that she couldn't afford any hindrances.
The gate was nearly directly in front of her, when she noticed the searing pain in her hand. The wand had began to shoot fiery jolts of dark magic into her system, as if it knew that it was being torn once more from its true master. The dark wand seemed to vibrate like a hot liquid, dizzying Hermione with a piercing pain unlike any of the other times the wand had rebelled before.
She tripped over herself, doubling in pain. Her fist was clenched tightly around the wand, muscles paralyzed by the injuring shocks. Forcefully she pried her fingers from the wand with the assistance of her other hand, and with a hollow thud the wand fell to the barren ground.
She couldn't afford to go without a wand, and the prospects of Bellatrix retrieving her wand seemed even worse. Quickly she shed her soaked jumper and wrapped it around the tortuous wand. Bundled in the cloth, the power of the wand became muffled to a dull throbbing within her hands. She let out a shivery sigh from being left in a thin, black tank top, still wet from the clinging saltwater.
The iron gates before her looked as sinister as the family to whom they belonged. Intricate metal vine-work coiled its way around every bar, and little sharp thorns accentuated the realism of the metallic relief. The very top of the gate pierced the sky with sharp prongs that seemed lethally unavoidable should she attempt to climb over them. It would perhaps be jagged, but if she could manage to climb part of the way up, she could latch onto the surrounding brick wall and climb over the rest of the way. It was really the only option she had, since her only means of performing magic was not only unwilling to help her, but it was also painfully aware that she was trying to escape.
She held stiffly onto the wand and braced herself for an arduous climb. The gates seemed to be staring down at her, daring her to attempt such a task as conquering them.
Tentatively she let her hand wrap around a cold metal bar of the gate.
After a second of deathly stillness, nothing happened to her and she let out a sigh of relief.
Suddenly the sharpened metal vines detached themselves from the bars of the gate. What once was detailed decoration now became vicious weapons which tightly slithered there way around her wrist.
Hermione cried out in both surprise and fear. She attempted to pull away, only leaving bloody red streaks around her wrists; the thorns had sunken into her skin. Any movement would increase her pain, and make her injuries worse.
Hermione, desperate for release realized that she must risk the pain of dominating the pulsating wand wrapped within her jumper. Carefully she unwrapped it with one hand, careful not to drop the only hope she had of escaping.
Her hand shook in pain as she grasped the dark wand. She lifted it to the vines and attempted with all of her might to exterminate the metal strands coiling up her arm.
"Reducto!" she let out harshly, touching the wand to the metal vines.
A harsh scream enveloped the area. In shock, Hermione dropped the wand, which appeared to be the source of the terrible sound. The high pitch made her want to faint from the pain numbing her ears. The edges of her vision blurred from tears welling in her eyes, and in a loss of attention her hand had flung back too far, right into the grasp of the iron gate.
She stood there now, completely bound by the dark, piercing metal. Bellatrix's wand continued the siren like shriek even now that it was freely laying on the ground.
"Well, Well, Well, what do we have here?"
Hermione felt her blood run cold. Her heart began to race and the cuts on her arm ran fresh with new blood.
"Itty bitty muddy come to bring me back my wand?"
Bellatrix glided forth from the shadows, silently approaching the now panicking Hermione Granger.
The wand immediately ceased its fatal cry once it sensed the presence of its true master. Hermione could not but help to wonder at how alive the wand seemed, and how devoted it appeared to Madame Lestrange.
Bellatrix stopped a mere foot away from the captured girl, and simply outstretched her hand. The wand flew into the palm of the woman, and she seemed to exhale in completion.
"Now, how should I thank the mudblood for returning me what is mine?"
She looked at the girl, bloody and soaked from her night thus far, no doubt all thanks to her precious wand. But the night was young, and her wand craved to be used by its master in so many terrible ways.
A cruel smile swept over her striking features, one that was almost like a child up to no good.
"Crucio."