A Family Affair

Draco awoke as the airliner circled O'Hare airport, approaching for landing. He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand, and then bent to retrieve the book which had fallen from his grip while he slept. Beside him, Bill was sleeping soundly.

As the plane touched down smoothly, Draco nudged Bill to rouse him. The older man merely mumbled in his sleep and rested his head on Draco's shoulder, snuggling into a more comfortable position. Decidedly unhappy with this new arrangement, the scowling boy shook Bill rather roughly, finally succeeding in waking the drowsy redhead.

"We're there," Draco supplied tartly.

Bill muttered something incoherently as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes, and then once again they were gathering their baggage and wending their way through yet another airport.

Chicago O'Hare was something neither wizard was prepared for. The terminal itself was massive and alien; added to that, there were an overwhelming number of Muggles rushing up and down the corridors, even at that ungodly hour of morning. Some of the Muggles were yelling. Some were crying. Most were simply looking hurried and annoyed.

Bill kept a tight grip on Draco's arm, afraid of losing the boy in the teeming crowd.

"We're only here a short time before our next flight leaves," Bill said, pausing to look at a map of the terminal. Pressing a hand to his rumbling stomach, he sighed. Turning away from the map, he headed off down the corridor with Draco in tow.

Near the gate for their departing flight, Bill stopped next to a row of brightly lit boxes, each about as tall as he himself. Reaching into his jeans pocket, he pulled out a number of coins, only to realise that he had yet to change them for American money. Swearing under his breath, he led Draco to the uncomfortable looking chairs to once again wait for boarding.

After a long moment of deliberation, curiosity got the better of Draco. "Bill," he inquired haltingly, his eyes on the brightly lit boxes. "What are those things?"

"I don't remember what they're called, offhand, but you can buy things from them - drinks and food, mostly. You drop coins in the slot at the top, press buttons to select the item you want, and it drops out of the slot at the bottom. Ingenious really. Unfortunately, those there require American money."

"I prefer magic to Muggle ingenuity, thanks," Draco scoffed.

"Keep your voice down, Michael. It wouldn't do for anyone to overhear you going on about magic and Muggles."

Draco scowled, knowing that Bill was right but loathe to admit it. He slouched in his chair, longing for a shower and a change of clothing. His eyes were burning from wearing the green-tinted contact lenses for so long. He fished in his bag, came up with the bottle of eye drops that were supposed to give him some relief, and wished fervently that this whole ordeal was over and done with already.

A short time later, they were on board the plane and once again soaring above the clouds. Morning had not yet come, so Draco saw nothing much of interest outside of his window. He turned his attention instead to the pretty honey-skinned girl with sleek dark hair who was passing out snacks and drinks to the passengers. She reminded him slightly of the Ravenclaw seeker, Cho Chang. Except a bit taller. And more curvy. With luminous brown eyes that were half-hooded in a way that promised that she could fulfil his every fantasy.

Perhaps she didn't really remind him much of Chang, after all.

Flushing, he turned to look out the window at the darkness. Behind him, he heard Bill speak briefly to the flight attendant, who had a sensualistic voice to match her bedroom eyes. Draco wondered, not for the first time, why the gods had inflicted him with such strong hormonal urges. They made him weak. They made him do stupid things - like kiss Hermione Granger.

The thought of that tender, passionate kiss, that desperate but gentle embrace, made Draco's heart ache. He furiously pushed the sentimental feelings aside. For the briefest of moments he allowed himself to wonder whether all the things that Malfoys 'do' and 'do not' still applied to him before he quashed the thought. Scowling, he pounded his fist against the narrow armrest that separated his seat from Bill's.

Bill gave the boy next to him an appraising look, wondering what had caused his passionate but silent outburst. The boy's face revealed nothing; it was once again a blank mask. Only a tenseness around the boy's eyes gave any indication of what the boy might be thinking or feeling.

Sighing inwardly, Bill turned away from Draco. He had been hoping to engage the boy in conversation during the remainder of their flight. Draco's mood, however, made him change his mind. Having finished his novel earlier, Bill settled for trying to occupy his mind with one of the terribly boring magazines tucked into seatback in front of him.

A few minutes later, Bill saw stealthy movement out of the corner of his eye. He looked over at Draco without moving his head or giving away that anything had caught his attention, and watched in first confusion then alarm as the blonde haired boy raised a vial of purple liquid to his lips. Flushing with anger, he snatched the vial from Malfoy's hand and turned to face his startled companion.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" he growled in a voice low enough not to be overheard by the other passengers.

Emerald eyes narrowed challengingly. "Disposing of a magical item so that it isn't discovered by Muggles," he drawled.

"What other magical items do you have, Michael? How many more potions?"

"None. Not that it is any of your business, Weasley," he retorted, turning his face toward the window again. "Now, give it back to me."

"No," Bill returned levelly, shoving the vial into the pocket of his jeans.

Draco glared at the man for a long, tense moment, hatred burning in his icy grey eyes. Slowly he turned away to look out the window again, his mind seething with pent up hostility.

*********

At last the plane touched down at their final destination. Bill said not a word to Draco, still angry with the boy, as they made their way off the plane.

Blinking in the overly bright lights of the terminal, Draco looked around. This airport seemed a bit quieter than the last, for which he was grateful.

"So, how are we supposed to find Jaffe?" he asked.

"I imagine Nathan will find us," Bill replied. "We are a rather hard pair to miss."

"Excuse me," said a young man with close-clipped brown hair. "You wouldn't happen to be Michael Talbot, would you?" he asked, his accent branding him as American.

"Erm," Draco replied, trying to fight his way through his tangled thoughts of revenge against Bill Weasley to form an intelligible answer.

"I overheard you saying something about finding Nathan Jaffe? That's my dad," the boy explained.

"I beg your pardon," Bill interjected. "Michael just woke up. A bit jetlagged. Forgive him." He cast the handsome youth a smile that would have made titanium melt. "I'm Bill Weasley," he said, offering his hand.

"Chris Jaffe," the boy replied, shaking Bill's hand and grinning broadly. He shook Draco's hand as well.

"Christopher," an older man said in a mellifluous English accent, stepping up to stand beside the young man. "I see you've found our friends. Nathan Jaffe, at your service," he said, bowing slightly.

"Pleased to finally meet you, Nathan. I'm Bill Weasley," Bill said, shaking the older man's hand.

"Bill! We meet at last. Albus told you me you might be coming with young Mr. Talbot."

"Mr. Jaffe," Draco said politely, shaking the offered hand.

"You didn't really travel dressed like that, did you?" Chris asked Draco as they followed the adults down a corridor, heading for Jaffe's car. Draco shot the boy a scathing glare, wondering what exactly the young American found wrong with his clothing. "I mean, it's not exactly warm here. I can only imagine you must have been freezing back in England."

Draco was cold. He hadn't really noticed it before, due in great part to the climate control in the airports and aboard the planes themselves. Of course, Draco was usually cold, living as he did in the dungeons of Hogwarts. He had long ago gotten used to it. Contrary to his row the day before with Remus over not being allowed to wear his cloak the cold didn't affect him overmuch, but he still hated being uncomfortable in any way. He shivered involuntarily and wrapped his arms across his chest, wishing the jumper he wore afforded him just a little more warmth.

"It'll be warm in the car," Chris promised, pausing to pull off the heavy leather jacket he wore. Draco paused beside the boy, watching him curiously. "Here," Chris said simply, offering Draco the jacket. When Draco simply stared at him, Chris rolled his eyes. "Just humour me and wear the damned thing," he said.

Something in the other boy's eyes warned Draco not to argue. Besides, he was on Chris' turf and at his mercy. And he was cold. He took the jacket and slipped into it, surprised at how warm it was and how it absolutely engulfed him, Chris being quite a bit taller and broader than him. "Thank you," he said simply as they resumed walking.

When they stepped out into the cool early morning air a few minutes later, Draco was very glad he had taken Chris up on his offer. He shivered in spite of the heavy jacket. Beside him, Chris took a deep breath of the crisp air and turned his face up to the sun, smiling. He slung his arm around Draco's shoulders companionably and steered him towards the adults, who were standing beside a comfortable looking sedan. Nathan was unlocking the door, and he and Bill were chatting amicably about Quidditch.

Quidditch.

Draco felt a pang, and quickly pushed it aside. No use dwelling on things that he couldn't have. Sighing, he dropped his backpack onto the floorboard of the car and slid into the rear passenger seat. Chris took the seat behind his father and fastened his seatbelt automatically. Draco looked at the safety harness with disdain.

"Better put yours on, too," Chris stated. "There's a law here that says you have to wear seat belts. Besides, pop isn't too used to driving in Houston traffic."

"Houston traffic?" Draco asked, thoroughly confused. He tugged at his seatbelt, not quite sure how to work it, but determined to figure it out on his own. It wasn't like the one on the airliner.

As Nathan started the car and pulled out of his parking space, Chris unfastened his own belt and moved over to help Draco. "Houston is the city we're in. Well, just outside of really. It's pretty cool. A lot bigger than home. There are a lot of people here, and a lot of cars. That adds up to a really horrible mess on the highway. You'll see," he explained, as he snapped the catch shut on Draco's safety belt. "That seatbelt never has worked quite right," Chris added apologetically as he fastened his own belt. "I guess there are a lot of things you don't know about our way of doing things, huh?"

Draco stared at the boy. "Our way of doing things?"

"The Muggle way," Chris explained.

"But you're..." he stopped, bewildered. Nathan Jaffe, he knew, was a wizard. He had assumed that Jaffe's son would be as well.

"100% Muggle," Chris admitted. "Nathan's my stepfather. He's been around since I was just a baby, and I think of him as my dad, but unfortunately I don't have his gift." Chris sighed. "Dad, radio," he said a moment later, leaning forward as far as his seatbelt would allow. Nathan grinned indulgently, and turned on the car stereo. Chris leaned back, frowning slightly. "I should have ridden up front. Pop won't bother to change the station, and we'll have to listen to whatever crappy music the station decides to throw at us."

Still reeling from the shock of realising he had been fraternizing with a Muggle and liking it, followed by the knowledge that he would be fraternizing with a good many more Muggles and might as well get used to it, Draco leaned back against the cold leather seat and stared out the window. His first impression of Muggle radio was that it was very similar to the Wizard's Wireless Network - too much talk and too little music. Then the grating voices gave way to the first notes of a song.

Draco had heard Muggle music a few times before, usually as sung - off key - by other Hogwarts students. It had all seemed rather boring. The song coming from the car's radio was anything but.

The electronic version of a grand pipe organ blended seamlessly with the sultry voice of the woman singing. First guitar then drums joined in, woven with the voice and the organ to create an entrancing piece of music. Draco closed his eyes and let himself drift with the melody.

The boy's attention was snapped back to reality when the car jerked violently, a loud horn bleated from somewhere outside the car, and Chris Jaffe swore vehemently.

"Asshole!" the boy yelled, turning to make a rude gesture at the driver of the car next to theirs.

"Christopher!" Nathan's tone of voice was a stern reprimand.

"Well, he is," Chris said angrily. "He wasn't even watching where he was driving. He could have killed someone."

Chris' raised voice was giving Draco a headache. He hoped that wherever there were headed, the trip would be over soon.

Fortunately, Chris calmed down quickly, and remained mostly silent for the remainder of the long drive home.

**************

Over two hours later, Nathan turned down a residential street in a sleepy little town. He pulled into a driveway before a moderate sized brick house, shifted into park, and shut off the engine.

"We're home," Chris said to Draco with a smile.

Draco just looked at him blandly for a moment before reaching down to unfasten his safety belt. He was glad to be rid of the damned thing. He was also glad to be rid of the confinement of the automobile and the constant feeling of motion that he had grown far too used to over the past day. What he most hoped for was a warm shower and a little solitude.

Stepping from the car, Draco hoisted his school bag, slung it over his shoulder, and followed Chris, Bill, and Nathan into the Jaffe home. Mrs. Jaffe met her husband, son, and guests just inside the door, a wide welcoming smile on her pretty heart-shaped face. She greeted her husband with a kiss on the cheek.

"Karen, this is Bill Weasley. Bill, my wife, Karen."

Karen shook Bill's hand warmly. "It's good to meet you, Bill," she said, her voice touched with a faint southern drawl. "Nathan has told me so much about you. And you must be Michael," she continued, turning to look at Draco.

"Hello," he said quietly, forcing a smile to his lips as he shook her hand politely. The woman had a grip that made Draco suspect she would have made a good Quidditch beater had she not been a Muggle.

"I'm sure the two of you are tired after your trip," Nathan said. "Chris, please show Michael to the guest room. Bill, I'd like a word with you before I let you run off to bed."

Nodding briefly to his father, Chris pointed to the right with his chin. "This way," he said, and Draco followed him from the foyer, down a hallway, around a corner, and into a bedroom roughly a third the size of his own at the Malfoy Manor.

The guest room of the Jaffe home was adequate, being roomy enough for one small teenaged boy and his few possessions. It was tastefully decorated, and thankfully wasn't the least bit feminine as so many guest rooms tend to be. There were two landscape paintings on the walls - one of the mountains and one of the sea - that drew Draco's attention. He wondered if he would ever get used to paintings that did not move.

"Bathroom is through there," Chris said, pointing at a door. "If you need anything, my bedroom is through the door on the other side of the bathroom."

"Thank you," Draco said, not really meaning it. His mother had taught him manners, though.

Chris left Draco alone, closing the bedroom door behind him. Draco dropped his bag on top of the dresser, and pulled out some clean clothes. Moments later, he was adjusting the taps in the shower, locking the bathroom doors, and stepping beneath the near scalding spray.

The heat of the shower, jet lag, and general exhaustion washed over Draco. He leaned against the wall in the shower and let his mind go blank for awhile before washing, shampooing, and getting out of the shower. He was not at all pleased to find that the Muggle shampoo smelled of jasmine, making him think of Hermione Granger.

Forgoing the clothing he had chosen in favour of a towel wrapped around his waist, Draco stepped back into the guest bedroom. After ensuring that the doors were locked for the sake of privacy, he dropped the towel and climbed into the bed, longing for the satin sheets of his old bedroom. A thousand jumbled thoughts whirling through his mind, Draco tossed and turned, trying to will himself to sleep. He had slept a good deal on the flight over, but something about travel was draining, and he desperately wanted rest. Even without his faithful potion, he was soon fast asleep, dreaming of a honey-skinned flight attendant who smelled of jasmine.