This here is a full-story adaptation of my one-shot 'A Different Meeting', though some elements from it may not make it into this story. This is actually a bit of a parody of those fics where Harry is adopted by nations. While most of them are pretty good, it does feel a little overused. The story is not set in the same time period as the original HP canon, as a way to make some things easier to pull off, such as Matthew and Alfred's same-sex adoption.
For the sake of what happens in this first chapter, Matthew and Alfred don't look the same. Alfred looks as he always does, but Matthew has an appearance closer to the one he had in the manga. Whether they're still brothers/twins is up to your preference, but will not be stated within the story.
The otherwise average day that Draco Malfoy first came into their uneasy and very much deserved care, Matthew realized just how great of a person Alfred could actually be, despite his many, many, many imperfections. Even though Matthew had protested at the time of their crime, he was glad that he nor nothing else nothing had stopped Alfred from tricking that little boy and bringing him into their lives. It didn't matter that they were nations and he was a simple human.
It had been after a meeting in London, in which Matthew found himself mutely walking just behind his much louder companion, post-shopping trip for some already eaten chocolates Alfred would never admit to buying, even if presented with the video evidence. He insisted on complaining about the person who had been hosting, and Matthew was only listening out of thin politeness. He honestly didn't care about Alfred's opinion of Arthur. He'd heard every bad thing that could be said about the man that had raised them both. Could Alfred be just a little less repetitive?
If they weren't in public, he might have summoned his hockey stick and bashed Alfred over the head with it. Or maybe 'Avada Kedavra' him and toss his unfortunately only unconscious body into a trash can so he could sight-see without Alfred's inconsistent rambling in his ears for just a little while. He itched to flick his hand in just the right way and speak just the right words. He hadn't needed a wand since his independence. It made it that much easier keeping his magic from Alfred, both because it made him feel just a bit superior than the American, and the last time that Alfred had seen magic first hand, it hadn't ended well. Thankfully, Alfred had quickly forgotten about his magical population after that.
Maybe a simple stunning and obliviating spell combination could do well enough. That would be nice. Same outcome, just a lesser chance of causing a huge scene.
"And he's all 'America, you-'...hey...what's that kid doing there alone?" Matthew's attention was immediately caught, the words 'kid' and 'alone' ringing in his ears. His gaze quickly followed Alfred's. Sitting on the end of the street, was a boy no older than six.
He had an aura to him most inappropriate for someone his age to have. He seemed so sophisticated behind his apparent fear. His blond hair was slicked back, and his clothing looked like something a parent would force their child into if they didn't see them fit to wear actual clothing. Matthew was the only one of the pair to notice how good of quality the rags were. He quickly placed them as wizarding robes that some areas of Europe wore. But Alfred didn't see a wizard, but a helpless and hurt child.
"What sick parent would do such a thing to a kid?!" Alfred seethed, honestly upset, surprising Matthew. He rarely saw the other blond as defensive of anything, and other than his revolution and certain events during the World Wars, never had it been over something so seemingly serious. He followed after Alfred as the American stalked to where the boy sat, out of concern for the child, because he didn't want Alfred to scare him with his over-the-top-ness.
"Hey, kid." Alfred said with actual concern. The boy looked at them, glaring at the two nations. Matthew was actually taken aback by the intensity it held, but Alfred wasn't faltered in the least. The boy looked away, shaking, and seemed to be getting up to run, but Alfred acted first. "Look, I just want to know where your parents are." Without knowing the consequences it would cause, he placed a hand on the boy's shoulder. The boy's reaction was immediate.
"Get your hands off me, you filthy Muggle!" The boy pushed Alfred's hand off him in disgust, and then trying to bolt, only to run right into Matthew, who he hadn't seen until then. He seemed very bewildered by the sudden appearance, of the Canadian who picked the confused boy up, holding him in place, like he often did with Kumajirou before the polar bear had been banished to the dog house.
Matthew didn't even have time to utter a command to Alfred before the boy started fussing. "Let me go! Let me go!" He screamed, attracting attention from the people passing in the street. Matthew knew this had a high chance of going very wrong.
"Unhand that boy right now, young man!" One woman quickly said sharply. People made a move to remove the struggling child from his arms. Even Alfred was seemingly unsure what to do, as he was doing nothing. So much for being the HERO, Matthew thought. Thankfully, being the smarter of the two, Matthew was able to construct a plan in the seconds before someone reached him.
"Yŏu've goht et all wrŏng!" Matthew cried out in a practiced Welsh accent, to give the air of not being Canadian, and to be better accepted by the crowd. "Hē's me sohn. Sōrt of. Me părtnă and I adŏpted hem some time ăgo, and hē's stĕll nŏt adjŭsted too us. Hē ensists on wearin' the rags hēs berth părents fohrced hem ento, and hē sehms dĕad sĕt on gōen' băck too thos 'orrible people. We've ben tryen' ou' bĕst, but we ă stĕll sō yung."
His eyes widening slightly, Alfred managed to slip into the role that the Canadian had temporarily given him, a smirk finding its way on his face, and a rare idea forming in his head. It was a weird feeling, to not have nonsense in his head. He didn't like it, but he could deal with it if it meant saving Matthew, and the cute little boy.
He skipped over happily, and carefully grabbed the boy from Matthew's arms, and whispered semi-threatening words into the boy's ears, stopping his struggle in its tracks. He ruffled the boy's hair to get rid of the ugly slicked back look, and used the odd smelling hair gel to give him something resembling Nantucket, much to his young captive's cries.
During this, he caught a glance inside the boy's robes and saw something written in dark green cursive. Since Arthur's teachings of the annoying and useless style of writing had not left him (unfortunately, Alfred would claim), he was able to make out what was written. A name, probably. Or some kind of clothing brand. His nose scrunched up at how stupid it sounded to him and another left his lips instead.
"Drake, do you really have to run away every bloody time we ask you to put on some better clothes?" Alfred spoke in his worst attempt at some kind of British accent, earning some troubled looks from the gathered crowd. The boy, dubbed Drake, faked sorrow, remembering Alfred's words to him.
"I am very sorry. I simply respect my parents much more than I respect you. I want to go home to them." The nations put up fronts of annoyance towards these words, Matthew face-palming and Alfred huffing. Some of the crowd laughed, or gave looks of sympathy, and began to thin out. Eventually everything was back to normal in the streets of London. Except of course, the two countries now saddled with a six year old child.
Alfred let Drake down on the ground, and the boy glared up at Matthew, before his grey eyes fell back on Alfred, a quizzical look on his face. Alfred smiled down at the blond boy, a mischievous look in his eyes. Drake was trying to smooth out his hair again as Alfred spoke next.
"So what's a Muggle?" Drake froze at this question, his fingers caught in between his now spiky hair, a good look for him. Matthew actually knew the term vaguely, having dealt with British Wizards before, but he preferred calling them the more polite 'non-magicals'. Being that Alfred had no contact with any wizarding population, Matthew didn't expect that Alfred would know the term, so he didn't expect Drake's reply.
"What do you mean? You said you weren't a Muggle when you grabbed me!" Drake looked ready to run once again, having realized that he had been tricked. By Muggles no less! He'd even put up with their little act. But Matthew stopped him by grabbing him again, shocked that Alfred even had the intelligence to think of something such as that, and holding the boy close.
"Please don't make a scene again." Matthew pleaded, and Drake almost didn't listen. Making another scene could get him away from the two after all. But that meant that more Muggles would be helping him, and he'd rather deal with two over many. While Matthew was struggling to understand what could be running through the boy's head for the weird look on his face, Alfred was simply laughing at the little boy's question.
"I told you that so it might make you trust me!, and it worked! Now, seriously. What's a Muggle? You people speak totally different than me. I don't understand your British slangy stuff. (Except wanker...I've been called that enough times to know what it means). The only other time that I've been called a Muggle is when I caught my pal Arthur talking to his imaginary friends one time. He never did explain what it meant, so I'm asking you." Drake continued to glare at the American, and he spoke crisply, in defense of what he believed.
"Those 'imaginary friends' must not be so imaginary. Your 'pal' is a clearly a wizard like me. I request to see him immediately, so he can return me to my own world." He seemed to be as serious as a child could be, which made Alfred laugh loudly once again. Alfred was a firm denier of magic, and believed the boy to be caught up in some make-belief world.
Drake scowled, wanting to rid himself of the stupid Muggles who had dared to stray onto his path, even in a foolish attempt to help him. Eventually, Alfred managed to slow his laughing down to the occasional chuckle. Another idea formed in his empty mind, his heroism kicking in full drive. It was perfect! He grinned, and decided to humour the child before pulling a fast one on him.
"Sure, we'll take you to him! Come on Drake, my child, and Mattie, my love. Let's go see Uncle Arthur!" He turned to walk away, before breaking into a slow run. Drake looked up the flustered and blushing Canadian, looking serious still. It was unnatural for a child to be that serious.
"I demand to be put down. And my name is Draco, not the stupid shortening that your lover person has insisted on placing on me." Matthew compiled, all why saying that there wasn't really anything between him and Alfred, and that it was a lie they often used, which the boy was indifferent to. Both caught up quickly with Alfred, who had intentionally ran slow as not to lose his friends. Matthew took a place beside Alfred.
"Are we really taking him to Arthur?" Matthew didn't want their young charge to know what they were saying, and he really hoped that Alfred would take the obvious hint. Thankfully, he did.
"Hell no. If that boy believes in the same things that Arthur does, I don't want that man anywhere near our little Drake!" Alfred said, looking down at the blond child that was more intent on following them than trying to figure out what they were saying. Matthew raised an eyebrow at Alfred's words, though he couldn't help but agree. But there was something else troubling about these words.
"Since when did he become ours?" Alfred smiled at him, his eyes sparkling.
"You said it yourself back there. He's our kid! We could raise him, be brothers to him. Or cool uncles!" Alfred gained a skip in his step, while Matthew gained a tired frown. This was wrong, he knew. How bad would it look if a nation committed the crime such as the ones that Alfred was suggesting they do, when they were so against their own people committing it?
"This is pretty much kidnapping. We really should find his parents." To make things worse, the boy was a wizard. He parents were probably looking for him, and if the boy's attitude was any indication, they were not very nice to Non-magicals. Unless, of course, Draco was a Squib. His parents could have abandoned him if his was. No, Matthew thought, if he was abandoned, he probably wouldn't have been left in such good condition, or asking to go back. He would have been told to never return on threat of death.
"Forget his parents. They must have been bad people! He's ours and that's final!"
And it really turned out to be final, as Matthew didn't protest too much after that, though he wanted to. Matthew would always regret not speaking up just a little bit, but it was mostly hidden over the pride of having another child to raise, and thinking about how his 'siblings' had turned out, he hoped he wouldn't fail like he did with all the other children that had been in his care.
It took a while, but Draco eventually stopped complaining about his captors and accepted who he had become and who he would turn into.
Drake Williams-Jones, a proud American-Canadian that grew up with a loving, and widely different, large family, who would be foolish enough to befriend Harry Potter. Or maybe Harry Potter was foolish enough to befriend him.
In this story Draco doesn't have much knowledge of Muggles at this time passed the fact that they are below him and not to be respected. He doesn't realize that they don't know about magic.