Dromeda,
Draco Lucius Malfoy was born yesterday, 5 June, at 11.24 a.m. He already has his father's white-blond hair and pointed features, and I cannot say I am disappointed by that. You know how I have always loved Lucius' hair and his good looks.
I just wish... it is important to have a male heir to carry on the family name; I know that. It is shameful enough for us, having no brothers. At least we have Cousin Reggie. Lucius would have been quite disappointed, perhaps even angry, if I had given him a daughter first, especially after nearly six years of childless marriage. But a son... will be his child, not mine as a daughter would be. He will be raised with extreme Supremacist values, and will almost certainly end up serving the Dark Lord, unless He is defeated first, and what are the chances of that?
It's not that I don't love my baby. I love him more than I have ever loved anyone before, even you or Bella, but for his own sake, I almost wish he were a girl, so that I would be allowed to raise her in my own way.
But boy or girl, it would make no difference for tonight. Lucius is expected to introduce his wife and child to his master. Now that I have given my husband an heir - and the Dark Lord a future Death Eater - I am considered worthy of the honor of meeting Him.
I'm scared, Dromeda. For six years, I have put this off, giving lip service to the ideas and activities that Lucius values, but always avoiding actually meeting his master. When He chose Lestrange Manor for His home for a time, I even stopped visiting Bella, covering it up by asking her to visit me more often. I pretended to be unwell whenever she invited me to come to her. But now, He has called for me Himself, and none of my usual excuses is worth anything against that.
How can I stand in His presence and pretend to be on His side? He is the greatest Legilimens in Britain, perhaps even greater than Dumbledore! Should I imitate Bella's fawning adoration, or Lucius's firm support, or Cousin Reggie's deep respect, or will He see right through all of that? Or should I be so overwhelmed by the honor of being near Him that I cannot put together a coherent sentence? Now that I think about it, that might be a convenient excuse not to meet His eyes, as well as preventing Him from thinking of me as a useful servant.
I know your husband used to pray sometimes, at Hogwarts. I won't venture to ask the son of Muggles to pray for the wife of a Death Eater, but perhaps he has taught you how? If so, perhaps you would not mind saying a few quiet words for your little sister?
I need not tell you to destroy this letter as soon as you read it. If anyone asks, I simply wanted to let my estranged sister know that I, the last of us to marry, have become the first to produce a son, or any child at all. Consider yourself put in your place, childless wife - and please don't actually be offended. I love you, Andromeda Black Tonks, though the last seven years may not have told you so.
Your sister always,
Cissy