"You made a simple mistake of letting go."
— "The Night We Met" by Lord Huron
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The tension in Malfoy Manor had become a constant companion for Evelyn. Despite Draco’s attempts to bridge the gap between them, the vast expanse of the manor and their shared history kept them worlds apart. Days turned into weeks, and while outwardly things seemed calm, an undercurrent of unease permeated every interaction between them.
Evelyn spent most of her time in the library or garden, avoiding the emptiness of the grand halls. Draco, true to his word, continued to offer her kindness, but it felt hollow to her, like a mask he wore to hide the darker parts of himself. She appreciated his efforts but remained wary, unable to forget the boy who had once taken pleasure in her pain.
One crisp autumn morning, a letter arrived by owl as Evelyn was finishing breakfast alone in the dining hall. The owl was a familiar one—her family’s, with its distinctive black feathers. Evelyn’s heart sank as she took the envelope from the owl’s beak, recognizing her father’s neat handwriting.
She opened the letter with trembling hands, the contents confirming her worst fears.
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Dearest Evelyn,
I trust you are settling into your new life. Your mother and I have been thinking of you and are eager to see you soon.
However, there is a matter of urgency we must discuss. As you know, the marriage contract between our family and the Malfoys was not merely a formality. It included certain conditions that must be fulfilled for the union to be considered complete.
The most pressing of these is the expectation that you and Draco produce an heir within the first year of your marriage. This clause was agreed upon by both families and is a standard expectation in unions such as yours.
We understand that this may come as a surprise, but it is vital for the continuation of our bloodlines and the strength of our alliance with the Malfoys. Please ensure that you and Draco take the necessary steps to fulfill this obligation.
We look forward to hearing good news soon.
With love,
Father
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Evelyn’s hand shook as she read the letter, her blood running cold. An heir. The words echoed in her mind, each syllable a reminder of how little control she had over her own life. The idea of being forced to bear a child—Draco’s child—made her stomach churn with dread.
How could her parents agree to such a thing? How could they expect her to bring a child into a world where she felt so trapped and alone? The idea of becoming a mother under these circumstances was terrifying.
Evelyn clenched the letter in her hand, anger and fear warring within her. She had been dragged into this marriage against her will, and now they were demanding that she give them a child, as if her body was just another commodity to be traded.
She had to talk to Draco. He needed to know about this, though a part of her feared that he already did.
Without thinking, she stood and made her way to Draco’s study, the letter crumpled in her fist. Her footsteps echoed through the empty corridors, the vastness of the manor pressing in on her as she neared the door.
She didn’t bother knocking, pushing the door open with more force than necessary. Draco looked up from his desk, surprised by her sudden entrance.
“Evelyn?” he asked, concern flashing across his face. “What’s wrong?”
