The Letter:
"Peter, stop slouching and look at the camera," said Narcissa Malfoy to the right of Peter.
"But I'm hungry," Peter complained. "I want to eat now."
"You'll get to eat as much as you want once we're done with this family photo," said Narcissa. "Merlin knows where all that food goes to."
Draco Malfoy snickered to Peter's left.
"Stop tittering and listen to your mother, Draco," said Lucius Malfoy sternly. He was on the other side of Draco, his hands tightening on his son's shoulder to assert his command.
FLASH!
"That's good!" called the photographer from behind the camera, holding his thumbs up.
"Thank you," said Narcissa.
The Malfoy family stepped away from the camera frame and the two children immediately headed for the dinner table.
As he walked, Peter ruffled his platinum blonde hair now that they were done with the photoshoot. It was magically dyed to look like a Malfoy's, as was tradition when one enters the family.
"Gee, Pete," drawled Draco, "just because it's our birthday party that doesn't mean you get to eat all of the food for everyone."
Draco and Peter celebrated their birthdays together despite them being two months apart. The arrangement didn't seem to bother the two, anyway. It wasn't like the Malfoys were going to throw a separate party for their adopted child.
"At least you get to go to Hogwarts this year."
"Oh, come on," said Draco exasperatedly. "You're still going on about that?"
"They serve buffet feasts every day!" Peter stressed. "Imagine all the food you can eat there."
"That's what you're miffed about?" asked Draco, shaking his head. "You want to go to Hogwarts because they have more food there?"
"That and, well, it'll be lonely here without you and the other kids."
"Hey, don't get sappy on me now. Mother has done enough of that for the whole family. Besides, I heard Hogwarts doesn't serve your weird skinny sausages."
"It'll still be better there than being stuck here with Dobby's cooking," said Peter.
A sudden crack startled the two boys.
"Did Master Peter Malfoy call Dobby, sir?" asked their house elf.
"Piss off, Dobby," said Peter suddenly.
"Get lost, elf!" ordered Draco.
"Sorry, Master Draco Malfoy, sir," said Dobby. "Dobby will get lost now." He disapparated with a crack.
"Stupid elf," muttered Draco. "At least the elves in Hogwarts actually know how to do their job without being seen."
"I dunno," Peter said, chuckling. "Don't you think we're being a little too hard on him?"
"Come off it. He's an elf. They love being treated like that."
As the two settled down their seats at the dinner table, Peter still couldn't help but feel uneasy with how they interacted with their house elf. It was how it's always been, but somewhere deep within him knew it was wrong.
Peter disregarded that thought right away. Ever since he was six, he had learned it was best to suppress certain notions and urges that regularly came to him involuntarily. Urges such as—
"Can't you believe I'm going in the same year as Harry Potter, though?" Draco mused. "I can't wait to finally meet him."
Peter's mind suddenly clouded and he felt immensely relaxed. Then, a soft voice echoed faintly within his head.
Peter shook his head violently. He felt cruel; he wanted to hurt Harry Potter so badly. He despised the feeling, but it always washed over him anyway whenever he was reminded of the existence of the famous Boy-Who-Lived.
If there was one consolation Peter had on not going to Hogwarts the following school year, it was the fact that he won't be going to the same classes as Harry Potter.
"Right," said Draco when he saw Peter's repulsed expression. "You hate him. I can't really blame you for that. He did kill the Dark Lord."
"And he did so by accident," said Peter listlessly. "He has nothing to be famous for."
"You're not wrong there," said a squeaky voice from behind them.
"Hey, Pansy," greeted Peter, happy to change the subject. "You look great."
Pansy Parkinson did, in fact, look beautiful, with her green silk dress and her hair tied up in an elegant bun. It was only her hard, pug-looking face that left much to be desired.
Draco rolled his eyes as Pansy blushed. She sat down at the table across from the two boys, both of which wanting to leave at once.
"Thanks, Pete," she replied. "You look good too."
"Err, thanks," said Peter. He purposely looked down at the appetizers set on the table, not wanting to make eye contact with the girl in front of him. "Enjoying the party so far?"
"Oh yes, Happy Birthday."
"It's actually Draco's birthday today. Mine's still in two months, we're just sharing celebrations."
"Well, Happy Birthday in advance, then," said Pansy and then turned to Draco, "Happy Birthday to you too, Draco."
"Thanks," drawled Draco. "Are you still hungry, Pete? Let's fly around the backyard a bit. My letter's coming in soon, maybe we can snatch the owl mid-flight."
"Erm," said Peter reluctantly. He gave Pansy a sheepish smile as he stood up and then turned to Draco eagerly. "Sure."
The two boys raced to the broomshed laughing, leaving Pansy alone to cross her arms and mutter, "Boys."
"That girl just ruins your appetite, doesn't she?" said Draco, panting. They reached the broomshed and were choosing which broomstick to ride.
Pater shrugged in response and held his Nimbus 1700, "Race you to the pitch?"
"On your count," said Draco as he mounted his Comet 260.
"Where do you think you're going?" asked their mother, who was blocking the exit door.
"Just over to the Quidditch pitch by the Bulstrodes'," begged Draco. "Please, it's our birthday."
"Your father explicitly told you not to leave the property until you get your letter."
"What's the point? It's not like it's going to disappear if I'm not there."
"I suspect your father is expecting something to come with it, and he doesn't want either of you gone when it arrives. Regardless, you two aren't going anywhere."
"Mother," Peter chimed in, "The Bulstrodes' are closer to Hogwarts so the owl will probably pass us on the way there anyway. We could get Draco's letter earlier!"
Peter put on his cute big-brown-doe-eyes look and Narcissa faltered, then sighed.
"All right, you two," she said, resigned.
"Yay!" both boys cheered. "Thanks, Mother!"
Narcissa grabbed both of their arms and sternly said, "Don't go past the river!" Then, in a softer voice, she added: "Have a good time."
Peter and Draco shot off the ground on their brooms, speeding up to the sky, high within the clouds.
"Draco, look," said Peter, who is now hanging on the broom with one hand as they zoomed above the forest trees.
"You're absolutely mental, you know that?" said Draco, laughing.
Peter easily lifted himself up above the broom, and then stood on the shaft on two feet as if he was surfing. He straightened up proudly, and Draco hooted.
Peter then bent his knees to get low so that he can touch one hand to the broom and let his other arm trail behind his body. He always subconsciously did this pose for some reason, but he didn't mind. It looked good on him.
He saw Draco cautiously shift on his broom, moving to match Peter's position. Panic seized on his face.
"You don't need to copy me, you know," said Peter worriedly.
"Who said I am?" said Draco. He slowly lifted his right foot up to the top of his broom, but once he began to put his weight down on it, he slipped and fell off.
"Arrgghhh!" screamed Draco.
"Draco!" yelled Peter. He grabbed his broom's shaft tightly with one hand and forced it downwards towards his brother's free-falling body.
He initially descended in a curve and prepared to intercept and catch, but once he saw that the ground was closing in at an alarming rate, he instead sped straight towards Draco.
"Arrrggghhhaaa!"
Peter forced the broom to go faster—but once he reached his brother, he missed the catch.
Hair behind his neck rose and he felt a tingling sensation behind his head. His instincts took over and he kicked his feet out just in time for the left one to barely touch Draco's robes.
It stuck, and Peter let out a huge sigh of relief. He pulled the two of them up to his broom, both sitting properly this time, Draco behind Peter.
"Are you insane?" Peter called to his back as he led the broom at a halt on the flat, grassy ground.
They got off, Peter's heart beating rapidly and Draco heaving for air.
"What in the world were you thinking?" Peter asked angrily.
"Hey, don't get mad at me! You started it!" Draco snapped back. "How do you do that, anyway?"
For several seconds that followed, the only sound came from the rustling of grass and nearby trees as well as heavy breathing.
"Blimey," Peter dropped to the grass on his back, his hands covering his face, "you scared me."
Draco leaned forward and rested his hands on his bent knees, still trying to catch his breath.
"There goes my broom," he said.
"The hell with the broom, you almost died!"
Another silence followed them, and then Draco slowly started chuckling.
"What so funny?" Peter raised his head to look up at Draco.
"You caught me with your feet."
"So?"
"With your feet!" Draco emphasized.
Peter didn't understand how that was so funny, but he soon started laughing as well anyway. At once, their laughter turned into howling and their bellies tightened around their stomach until they couldn't breathe anymore.
Draco recovered first, and asked again, "How?"
"I don't know," said Peter dejectedly, his head dropping back to the grass. "I've just been able to do it ever since I first woke up in the manor; the morning I found out that I was a wizard and that… my muggle parents had sent me off in my sleep."
Draco sat down beside Peter's sprawled body. "Father said You-Know-Who's temporary incarnation sent you. I don't see why he would have a muggle—."
"I know who my parents were, alright!" said Peter furiously, sitting up. "How is that so hard to believe?"
"Oh, I don't know," said Draco sarcastically, "Maybe the fact that You-Know-Who himself said you're his heir? That the souls of the darkest wizards reside within you? That you will be the one to really bring him back?"
"I remember them clearly."
"Just like how you remember their names, right?"
"I was five!" Peter sighed.
"He can't have possibly chosen you if you were a mudblood. You're not!"
"Not this again," muttered Peter, rubbing his forehead.
"Think about it! You're the champion of the purebloods. You must be the Heir of Slytherin. You are a parselmouth, after all."
"Let's just go," said Peter, standing up.
"Why do you keep denying it?" said Draco. "You should be proud of yourself."
"I said let's go!" said Peter louder. "We gotta get back home before your Hogwarts letter gets there."
Peter walked to where he left his broom and picked it up.
"Speaking of which," said Draco looking up.
Peter followed Draco's line of sight and saw a brown owl carrying an envelope flying high across the sky above them.
"Let's catch it!" said Draco as he excitedly ran towards Peter without dropping his gaze from the post owl.
"Come on, then!" said Peter fervently.
They swiftly mounted the Nimbus 1700 and shot up straight for the bird. The two playfully tried to snatch either it or its mail, but it kept dodging.
They chased after the owl all the way back to Malfoy Manor until it slipped past an open window.
Peter veered off and landed next to the broomshed and hung his broom haphazardly. Draco had already bolted inside the house to see his letter.
Peter followed in and saw that there were a lot more visitors than when they had left. Averys, Bulstrodes, Carrows, Notts, and many other pureblood families were walking around the Malfoy residence. He greeted witches and wizards of all ages as they talked and mingled with each other.
"Well then, here's the secret child," said a lanky old man. He regarded Peter by patting his back
"Morning, Mr Flint," greeted Peter politely. "How's the party?"
"Very well, thanks for asking."
With a nod, Peter continued his walk towards the living room. Once he reached the entrance from the hallway, he noticed that everyone inside had all gone silent.
He scanned the room and found his mother with a questioning eyebrow raised at him and his father with an enigmatic look on his face. The soft tingling around Peter's head told him this can't be good.
What's going on?
He looked to the couch behind his parents and sure enough, sitting there was Draco, reading his Hogwarts letter.
Except he wasn't. Not exactly. He was holding two letters, one on each hand.
"Peter," said Draco quietly as he looked up at him, "you're going to Hogwarts as well?"
A confused Peter snorted. "Wait, seriously?"