Bones Shatter

It was a beautiful day. If only beautiful days stayed that way. 

Bouncing on her heels, the twenty-one year old let out a little sigh of happiness, grinning up at the falling snow as she hummed down the street. Merlin, how she loved winter. It'd always been her favourite time of the year.

The snow falling had such a magical effect on the world. It was calming, relaxing, and beautiful. So it wasn't a surprise that the young witch had let her guard down. 

Too caught up in all around her to notice the group of eyes on her, she moved her purse from shoulder to shoulder, scanning around her a moment before her gaze moved back up to the sky.  

They began closing in on their target, almost like shadows in the way the moved as quietly as possible towards the French woman who was still oblivious to their approach.

The man in charge, a burly figure with a mess of dark brown hair, reached her first. Throwing an arm around her, he threw her a cocky grin. "What's a pretty lady like you doing wandering the streets all by your little lonesome?" 

Jumping at the sudden touch, Marianne looked up, her brown eyes wide with confusion and an inkling of fear. "I - I - um -" She thrashed around in his grip, trying desperately to escape. But the man was much stronger than she was. Apparate. She could get out of here and just -

But then her gaze fell on all the Muggles around her and her breath hitched in her throat. She couldn't. She'd just have to work her way out of this ass's grip and make a run for it. 

His hold on her tightening, the rest of his group moved into position behind them. "Well, what about we get out of here and have some fun." 

Blinking rapidly at his proposition, Marianne shook her head. She wasn't attracted to him and even if he was a girl, she wouldn't be so keen to jump into bed with the first person who looked her way. "That - That's sweet, it really is. But I don't really - I mean, you seem like a very nice man and all, but I don't - I'm not attracted to -"

Marianne never got to finish her sentence. The man let go of her, practically flinging her away from him. When she regained her balance and glanced back at him, his face was contorted with disgust. "You're one of them aren't you? You're-"

She never got to hear him finish his sentence. She was too terrified of what his expression and tone showed to want to hear him. So she turned on her heel and ran. She didn't care where she was going. All that mattered was that it wasn't where they were.

She just had to get far enough away from them to apparate away. And then everything would be alright. 

If only she'd been just a little faster and a little more careful, maybe it all would've ended well.

Dashing into an empty field, intent on cutting across, Marianne didn't look carefully enough at where she was placing her feet, stepping onto, tripping and landing face first on a patch of ice.

Letting out a little gasp of pain, the woman groaned, but it cut off into a yelp as she was pulled up to her feet by her hair. Eyes meeting the green ones of the man, she kicked, trying to get out of the grip of his lackeys. But the head of Prideux just didn't have the strength. Stepping towards her, the man gave her a morbid little grin. 

The next few minutes were nothing short of painful. They kicked and punched and tore at her. The pain wasn't nearly enough to knock her out though, so the professor stayed awake and wholly aware of all punishment her body was put through. When she was bruised and bloody and on the brink of passing out, that was when they stopped, dropping her into the snow, her crimson blood turning the fresh frost pink before her very eyes. 

His eyes, his green eyes, piercing and cold and dangerous, were the only thing that stood out, even as her vision became hazy and blurry. And then they were gone, only to be replaced by the clouds above. 

The blond had barely enough weight to daunt the men who were attempting to escape.

That is, until they saw her.

The woman didn't even try to escape, the look in her blue grey eyes full of emotion. They circled her like power hungry vultures, spewing catcalls like they were acid. Slowly, Bonnie adjusted the white woven cap over her bright yellow hair. Her eyes flashed, and then she was looking down at her hands, slowly pulling off the white gloves as well. Flexing her long pianist fingers in the frigid air, Bonnie finally looked up at the man trying to intimidate her, meeting his bright green eyes in a glare that made him take an unconscious step back.

The next minute was a blur as Bonnie leapt into motion, placing well aimed punches at specific spots of the attacker's bodies, not stopping until they were all incapacitated at her feet. White boots crunching over the snow now, the American fell to her knees beside her best friend, her grey blue eyes now filling with worry. "Mari?" She asked, fingers running over the pressure points that stopped outward blood flow.

"This is gonna hurt." She warned, before pressing a rapid succession of points - the combination to jolt the woman back into full consciousness. "Stay with me, Ria, we're going." Grabbing the woman's hand, Bonnie disapparated, headed straight for St. Mungo's.

She whimpered. It was the first noise that fully reached Marianne's ears, jolting her. For a moment, her brain, foggy from all the pain receptors of her body flaring up at once, couldn't connect the sound to the body it belonged to. It was only when she began trying to breath again, her vision growing hazy from the effort, that she realized the pitiful noises weren't coming from a dying animal.

They were coming from her.  

Was this what it felt like to die? The pain was only increasing, and she began to find it harder and harder to breath. Hell, she was beginning to forget how to breath. It was just all too painful. If she just stopped fighting it, decided to give in, wouldn't it be simpler? 

But then the images began to flash behind her eyelids. Everyone she'd ever cared about, from her parents to her step father and all the siblings that came with being in such a blended family. And then, it was her friends. Bonnie first, her best friend, the one she'd always been able to rely on. And in concurrent fashion, as the men who'd done this to her were given a taste of their own medicine, it was the rest of her friends she saw, from Roul to Laura to Nate and Adria and - she let out a painful gasp at the last face. It was him, most definitely him, but not as he'd been the last time she'd seen him, but how he'd be now, if he hadn't - and it was then that Marianne knew.

She wasn't going the easy route. She wasn't going to give the men the satisfaction of knowing that they'd succeeded. 

She was going to fight. She was going to live. She was going to fall in love, get married, be happy.

Prying her eyes open at the sound of a familiar voice, the house head's eyelids fluttered, "Bonnie?" she rasped, and then a shudder ran through her body as she discovered that speech was much more painful than breathing. Her eyes met the blonde's, and for a moment the dull and glassy look in her eyes disappeared, replaced with a steely determinance.

But then the pain flared again, and had the woman had the energy, she would've screamed. Giving her best friend a jerky little nod, she clung to her for dear life as the snowy field around them vanished, the orderly corridors of the magical hospital taking its place. As the Healers noticed the French woman, they started, hurrying towards them. Marianne offered them a grateful smile, her grip on the American tightening even as her vision began to blur again.

She'd be alright. If not for herself, then for all the ones she loved and loved her back.