My dear Mrs Lestrange,

When I heard of the terrible attack yesterday my thoughts immediately went to your well-being. Then I recalled how very unlikely it was that you would be anywhere near a village High Street – I trust the fog is not dampening your mood too unduly? The lack of magic aside I doubt the general air around you is much changed, unless you’re running low on cigarettes already?

If you need me too I would be more than happy to have an owl ferry some to you from here. London is only experiencing the usual level of fog for June.

Yours in friendship,

Dearest Ella,

Your letter has brought me warmth in such a dull and dark time. I must admit I'm dreadfully tired of Hogsmeade; between an infernal fog, a rampaging troll, and my husband, I don't know which I'm most irritated by. Fortunately, my daughter is here to offer some tolerable conversation; she is my gift to the world, but mostly to myself.

An offer of cigarettes is a welcome one, my dear. We've only just begun to run out, though I've planned to commandeer Aurelius' cigars should need be.

Soon, I shall have returned to my precious Westley Park and escaped this maddening village. Feel free to visit me, my dear. You know my chimney is open quite often to my favourite guests.

P.S. They ought to send you here; if anything could disperse this wretched fog, it would be you, my dear Ms. Black.

Yours, most sincerely,
 

My dear Madame Lestrange,

Try to resist the urge to smoke the cigars. I could not abide the smell of him on you.

Yours in friendship,