Set me free (Snamione) *Complete*

Letting go

Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction using characters from the Harry Potter world,
which is trademarked by J. K. Rowling. This story is purely for entertainment purposes, no money is being made from it.

A/N: Written for a monthly challenge.

Rules:
Minimum 650 word count for each chapter
March- Tears&Fears

Huge, huge thank you to my beta - Loki God of Evil
You may also blame her why this story will have 5 chapters instead of being a one-shot as originally planned ^_^

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She shivers. Small tremors are tugging on her muscles. Forcing those tremors to subside, she breathes.

In and out.

Deep calming breaths.

Why did I ever listen to Luna of all people?

She'sasking herself that same question each time she comes here. But, she knows why. She needs this, desires it. This is her last hope, because - nothing else is working. Therefore, this is her last straw before she drowns. And even if it is shocking to her, not just what, but also whom Luna suggested, - she still signed up for it.

So, here she is.

Naked.

Shivering, while the cold hand of fear squeezes her brain.

But, she is tired, so very tired. She can not handle this anymore, and if this doesn't work...then, she will be lost. She cant handle it - the stress, the constant control, the responsibility. She helps, she does all she can, she's supposed to be the responsible one. She thinks she still is, or at least she hopes.

She can't take it anymore! She is hurting, she is tired, and she can't stop, can't let it go.

Twisting her wrists nervously, the coarse rope begins to bite at her skin.

It's not like she is tied up for the first time. Still...

Panic! Paranoia! She finds that she can't breathe. Feeling like the air that surrounds her is in short supply, she gasps for it, in short, hungry gulps.

"Relax. Breathe. You are safe." A rough, gravelly voice washes over her. A calming balm for her fried nerves.

Her brain and her body are at odds with one another. Her brain, still active, panicked, devising an escape route. Signalling to her that she is in danger. Telling her that she can't let go and rest. That she can't trust anyone. Her body tells a different story. She feels her muscles relax at the sound of the masculine voice.

Don't raise your eyes. You don't have permission. Just let it go, you are not the one in control. Embrace it.

All she can see is the small patch of the floorboard. These are the same boards that cause pain in her knees every time she visits. It is an odd sensation, it almost feels like the floor is pressuring her from beneath. It is unfamiliar and yet familiar bite, but not unwelcome. As long as she can feel it - she is alive.

Her brain feels frozen from fear on the surface, but deep inside it is like a lava grotto. Still planning on ways of escape, or to turn the situation to her advantage, to take back control.

No, no more control. I-I don't want it!

In and out.

Breathe.

Her muscles flex, going taut and then relax. Her whole body twitches.

Focus!

She listens to the slow grind of leather soled boots on the floor.