Chapter Text
The sound of phones ringing and general chatter filled the office as usual. Chloe Decker sat at her desk with a cup of coffee and the rare gift of relative silence as she reviewed her case file. She'd just been handed the thing maybe twenty minutes ago. There was a lot of unpack.
The victim was a young woman in her 20s. She'd turned up dead on the beach, half nude. Chloe would typically be heading out for the scene, but she'd been asked to hang back to meet with someone who was supposedly aiding in the case. The fact that they weren't here yet was a little grating, but she tried not to let it bring down her mood too much.
"Detective Chloe Decker?"
Her eyes shot up, not expecting the British accent. The man in front of her was wearing a very standard looking black suit. It reminded her of the ones she'd seen feds wear when they showed up on cases. Sure enough, he flipped a badge her way. FBI.
"Agent Potter," she read aloud.
"Please, Harry is fine." He smiled disarmingly. "I'm sorry to hold you up. I've never actually been to LA before. Had some trouble finding the place."
"Not a problem." She gathered her things. "You ready to go to the crime scene?"
He blinked as if taken aback for half a second before he nodded.
"Of course, detective." He motioned for her to lead the way. "I hope you're okay with me riding along. The car situation hasn't been sorted yet. I should have one by tomorrow, hopefully."
Ah, that was why she'd been asked to hang back. Chloe led him out to her car, giving him an assessing look. He was young, probably younger than her if she was guessing. That was impressive for making it all the way to being an FBI agent. The guy must be good.
Though, some people got their positions for reasons other than merit as well. Perhaps he was just blessed with good connections. She was interested to see what he would bring to the job. She'd only rarely worked with other agencies, and she hadn't had the chance at all since making detective.
"You… um, did you need something?" Harry twitched almost imperceptibly. "You've been staring."
Chloe blinked and her face felt hot suddenly. "Oh, sorry. Lost in thought."
His shoulders seemed to relax the slightest bit for some reason. Maybe he'd been creeped out. Chloe couldn't blame him. They were strangers after all. Staring was weird even among people who knew you well. Chloe unlocked the doors and they both got in. Harry pulled out his phone as she started the car. He checked a couple of things and then slid it away. They spent a few minutes in awkward silence before he broke it by clearing his throat. "So, Detective. How is life in LA? It seems rather lively compared to the places I've lived."
Chloe shot him a glance and shrugged. "It's just like any other city, I guess. Maybe more night life than some." He was nodding along, watching copious bars and nightclubs flash past the windows. "What about you? How has the city been so far?"
He laughed. It sounded a little bitter.
"Unkind," he admitted honestly and she felt herself grin in response to the candid answer. "I lost my baggage on the mu… airplane. They called while I was in the cab to your precinct. I should have it by next week. Somehow that's the best they could do."
She gave him a sympathetic look. She'd caught the weird half-slip. She assumed he'd been about to call the plane by some strange British slang word.
"Where did you fly in from? I'm not used to seeing foreign FBI agents."
"Oh, London actually." He offered the location, but not the background to his working in the US like she'd hoped he would. Was he being evasive, or did he simply not think to offer any more than that? "Have you been on many planes? Flying that way is horribly boring."
She quirked a brow. "As opposed to another way to fly?"
"Have you ever been hang-gliding?" he asked smoothly.
"Um… no." she offered with a laugh.
"The freedom in the air, just you all alone surrounded by nothing. It's amazing detective."
He sounded like he wanted to be doing it right now. She had to admit he made it sound enticing in a way she'd never considered hang-gliding to be.
"I didn't peg you for the thrill-seeking type," she said, amused. She pulled into the lot nearest to where their victim was supposed to be and parked. When she glanced over, he was watching her and he looked curious.
"Are you trying to peg me, detective?"
Chloe's eyes flew wide and she felt her face start to burn.
He didn't seem to be joking. His brows knit together at her reaction. Genuine confusion flicked across his face like he'd misused a word he'd read in a textbook. He schooled it away quickly.
"That's…" she cleared her throat and motioned toward the beach. "We should go."
He still looked a little lost but conceded, opening his own door and stepping out.
"I apologize if I said something weird," he offered as they crossed the sand. He looked down at his shoe with distaste. Yeah, he was going to have sand in those loafers for a while. "I'm not very accustomed to American slang. It's gotten me into trouble before."
Oh, that did explain it, actually.
"It's fine." She waved it away. She really, really didn't want him to ask her to explain his faux pas. She might die of embarrassment. "What do we have?"
The techs on scene started to describe the small traces of evidence they'd found while she and Harry pulled on gloves. They gave them the all-clear to touch things since they'd already photographed the scene. Harry wasted no time circling the body while she focused on the tech in front of her. Little to no evidence found. The setting was very public and not far from the water. Evidence could have been swept away by the ocean by this point.
"How far down the beach have you searched?" Harry asked. He was moving one of the hands gingerly.
The tech froze, eyes narrowing on Harry who was too busy examining the body to notice the reaction. The tech looked to Chloe in a very 'what the hell' gesture. Chloe shrugged and nodded toward Harry, indicating she'd like an answer as well.
"One or two hundred yards either direction give or take."
"Yards," Harry grumbled nearly under his breath and Chloe fought back amusement. "You need to go further in that direction."
Harry waved off to their left.
"Who?" The tech looked confused and more than a little miffed at having someone she didn't know call shots.
"He's with me, FBI," Chloe clarified. The tech waved people in the direction Harry had motioned, but stayed with them. She eyed Harry with renewed interest. Harry had moved to the other side of the body now, seemingly completely oblivious to the attention. "Time of death?"
"Approximately ten to twelve hours ago. Can't find an obvious cause of death. No trauma anywhere we can find. Tox screen and ME report will have to tell us more."
Chloe nodded, but she was focused on the FBI agent. He'd been slowly moving up the woman's arm as if searching for something. He'd paused now and was withdrawing his phone to snap a close-up picture. She marched over. She wasn't sure what he thought he was doing, but it definitely wasn't protocol to have evidence on a personal device.
"Hey," she objected, nodding at the phone. He glanced up long enough to catch her gesture before returning to what he'd already been doing.
"The phone's bureau issued and encrypted." He seemed to catch what her objection was about. He tilted the phone and she did catch some sort of insignia on the back, gone before she could really register what it was. She frowned at the photo anyway. Was that normal for feds? It certainly wasn't how she was used to handling evidence.
She paused as she got closer. Harry had rotated the arm awkwardly and left the area he'd been examining exposed. She could see the same marking on the woman's skin that Harry was looking at on his phone. He was zooming in on the photo and she could see delicate words etched into the skin with an eye glaring from the middle.
"Always stay vigilant?" she repeated the words with confusion and unease. That was a weird phrase. It almost felt like a warning. Harry clicked his screen off and turned back to the body. He was frowning at the mark on the woman's arm now. "You recognize it?"
He startled slightly but nodded. His hand twitched like he was fighting back some sort of movement. Chloe's eyes narrowed a touch. "Yes, you could say it's the reason I'm here."
She gave him an evaluating look. How much would she be able to get out of him about this? It was her case after all. "What is it? And how did it get the FBIs attention? Why are you here?"
Harry gave her a bewildered look. There was just a touch of something under it that made it seem less than genuine. Like he was pretending to be surprised by her questions for some reason.
"That's a lot of questions, detective. Let's see. It's the mark of… an extremist group? I suppose that's probably the best way to describe them. The FBI sent me here because her name came up on the missing persons list three days ago and… what was the last one? Sorry."
"How did it come to the FBI's attention?"
"Ah, well that's classified. Apologies." He did offer her an apologetic smile that seemed genuine.
"She's important?" Chloe asked. There had to be a reason the FBI would send someone about a missing persons case if they didn't even know she was dead.
"To someone, I suppose," he answered so smoothly that Chloe almost missed how he dodged the question entirely. Awe and irritation warred for dominance.
There was a call from down the beach in the direction Harry had asked them to search.
"Sounds like they found something." The tech who'd stayed behind was eying Harry curiously, but she grabbed a camera and headed off to take pictures of whatever was found.
"How did you know to look down there?" she asked.
He stepped around the body, back to the side he'd originally started with. His fingers sifted through the sand for half a second before he pulled something up and tossed it to her. She caught it on reflex and cringed at the idea of throwing something from an active crime scene. Her eyes settled on the object and she was just confused for a minute. It looked like a clump of wet sand, but it was hard to the touch. She turned it over in her hand and looked back at him, perplexed.
"It's wax," he supplied and pulled another ball from slightly further in the direction the techs had headed. "Someone was out here with candles. Wax trails from that direction to here. Doesn't go much further beyond. She doesn't have a candle on her, so whoever followed either went back the same way or snuffed the candle out before they left."
She gave him an impressed look. He'd definitely earned his spot in the agency. This didn't seem like a nepotism thing. He stood, brushing off the knees of his pants.
"Should we go see what the techs have found for us?" He gestured in their direction.
They headed out and Chloe watched the distasteful way he eyed the sand.
"California might not be the best fit if you hate sand that much," she joked.
He seemed surprised she had noticed, which was sort of funny. He wasn't exactly hiding his reaction.
"Ah, maybe not an aversion to the sand itself," he said, shaking his shoe which spilled the stuff everywhere. "First time walking around in a suit in it, though. It's not great."
She laughed. "No, it's not."
"I would've worn something more fieldwork appropriate…" He seemed to lament something for a moment, and she connected the dots. He didn't have a suitcase. Right.
"I could see if Dan… ah my coworker, could spare some things."
"Oh." Harry seemed taken by surprise. "No, that's ok detective. I planned to go buy some things when we're done for the day. I don't have anything I need really. It's not just clothes. Even my… agh," he cut himself off, covering his eye.
"What's wrong? Are you okay?" She wasn't sure what to do even if he wasn't okay. She hovered awkwardly.
"Sand in my eye." He laughed but it sounded strained. "Sand in my eye under the contact. I don't even have solution with me, and my glasses are in the bloody suitcase."
"Okay." She was relieved it wasn't anything major. Still, he needed a solution. Sand could cause a lot of damage in the eye. With a contact added it was even more likely. "Okay, wait here for a minute."
She hustled off and checked what had been discovered. When it was clear they'd only found personal effects from the victim that they could review later she let the team know they were going to head out for a small health emergency. She got back to Harry who was watching her with his hand still over the eye. She pulled him back to the car and they were on their way to the nearest drug store.
Harry didn't complain again, but he wasn't exactly talkative either. They pulled into a Walgreens parking lot and went inside together. She beelined for the eye section while he stood near the front just staring at the store as if overwhelmed by it.
She grabbed a box of saline eye wash and some of the overnight solution. Hopefully Harry had enough contacts to last him until his baggage arrived. She found him at the front of the store holding a candy package and squinting at it with one eye.
"I've got it." She shook the boxes in his direction and then headed to the cashier. He hustled after her with the candy still in hand. The kid at the register started scanning and Chloe reached for her wallet on instinct.
"Oh, no. Detective, absolutely not." Harry stopped her hand from withdrawing the wallet and he slid smoothly in front of her, taking out his own. He moved to pull out a sleek black card, but Chloe's eyes locked on the absolute hoard of bills inside. Who carried that much cash around? She blinked away the question. Definitely not her business. He paid for the items and Chloe directed Harry toward the bathrooms at the back of the store.
She only had to wait about five minutes before he rejoined her, no longer squinting. He grinned widely and Chloe felt something flutter in her stomach at it. He was attractive. She would admit. She was an adult. It wasn't supposed to be embarrassing to find people attractive at her age. Somehow, she was mortified anyway. She was acknowledging that she found someone attractive after having known them for less than half a day.
"It's past lunch time." Harry was looking at his phone. He'd shifted in such a way that told her he'd noticed the staring again. Oops. "But I'm starving. Would you like to get a late lunch detective? My treat."
She probably should have hesitated longer, objected to him paying. But she nodded after a few seconds with barely any thought behind it.
"Great!" he grinned again, just a little too sharp. "You choose. I have no idea what's good around here."
Harry had a rather nice lunch with the detective he'd been asked to work with. She was, perhaps, a little stiff at times, but mostly an agreeable and pleasant person. He could do without the thoughtful staring she kept slipping into, but otherwise he had no real complaints.
They talked about life, hers mostly. Harry had shared a few minor details, all muggle friendly. He'd gone to boarding school in Scotland. He had a house in England. He was enjoying the US. Small talk stuff.
She'd told him about her daughter and that one of the detectives he was likely to meet at the station was her ex-husband. They talked about the real estate market in LA for a minute. Harry said it seemed like a nice place to buy a beach home in, if one was into that sort of thing. He'd then listened to her rant about the unrealistic pricing of houses and how hard it was for a single mom to find a place.
Harry felt so bad he wanted to find some place and buy it for her. Between the money his parents had left him as a child, and what he'd inherited from the House of Black, Harry had more money than he'd likely ever spend.
Still, it always made his friends uncomfortable when he offered to make large purchases for them and Chloe was little more than an acquaintance at this point. So, he listened with an empathetic ear.
He grew up without many possessions or control living with the Dursleys. He knew what it meant to struggle. He was certain that if magic hadn't come into his life, he would have graduated with subpar grades from a muggle school and struggled to make anything out of his life. His aunt and uncle would have disowned him just as they did in his seventh year. He would've been alone in this world with no money or family. It was a depressing thought, really.
About three quarters of the way through their meal his phone buzzed. He looked down to check the message. He knew he was scowling when he looked back up because the detective was looking at him in concern.
"Is everything ok?" she asked politely.
"It will be," he said, casually sliding the phone into his pocket. "Don't worry about it, detective. I might have to take the day to deal with some things though. I do regret doing that to you on our first day working together."
She waved away his apology. "I'll see what belongings they found at the scene. Unless something else happens we likely won't hear back from the ME until tomorrow with a cause of death. It could be longer if it's hard to find. There's still work to be done, but there were no witnesses. It may take time to find a lead."
He hummed thoughtfully at her assessment. She had a point, but Harry also had an obligation to do some investigating via his channels as well. Having the cover of the FBI for his information gathering was helpful. The ministry had even done some charm work to convince the bureau that he was an MI6 agent here for top secret international affairs. The whole situation felt very 'James Bond' to him… if James Bond had hated the attention.
Hermione had made him sit down and watch a few of those films when they were younger. They weren't half bad.
"I'll go in early tomorrow to assess the situation," he offered, but his mind was already drifting to other things. More annoying things. "Your lieutenant got me an access card. So, don't worry about needing to be there at the same time as me."
She opened her mouth and then shut it again, giving him a questioning look. "When did you meet with the lieutenant?"
"I haven't, officially." Harry shrugged. "She was expecting me today and left the card with reception at my superior's request. I was able to pick it up on my way to meet with you. I suppose I do owe her a drop by tomorrow."
Chloe was nodding along but she seemed a bit distracted glancing at her own phone. She was giving her phone a very similar expression to the one he imagined he'd shot his own earlier.
"Everything ok?"
"Hmm?" She snapped back to attention with a mild blush. He raised an eyebrow at the reaction. He'd caught her blushing more than once today. "Yeah, I'm good. Thank you for the food, but I need to get moving. My daughter will need to be picked up soon."
"Good timing. I'll grab the check and get an uber," he offered, gesturing to the door. "It was nice getting to know you today, detective. I look forward to working with you. I'll see you tomorrow?"
Chloe offered him a warm smile. "It was nice to meet you, agent."
Harry put a hand to his chest dramatically.
"Agent?" he repeated as if pained. He grinned and dropped the dramatics. "Harry, please."
She laughed and offered him a smile in response. "Then call me Chloe. It feels a little weird to call you by your first name if you're calling me detective."
"Ah, fair." He flagged the waiter who was about to hustle past. "Have a good rest of your day, Chloe."
He paid the waiter and left a tip. Strange American customs aside, he hoped he hadn't left too little. With the tab paid, he spent a few minutes trying to figure out where to go so he could buy some nice clothes.
The US had so many options it was almost overwhelming to choose. He settled on a little store that seemed to specialize in men's clothing.
The uber ride felt like it was longer than it should have been. The city was ridiculously congested and Harry wondered for a moment if he could get away with apparating if he found some good, quiet places to do it in. He'd figured out that a good muffliato charm could do wonders to reduce the noise associated with apparation so startling people with the noise of his favored form of transport wasn't really a huge concern these days.
He arrived at the little store and pushed through the door to a cheery jingle of the overhead bell.
"Coming!" Harry glanced around for the source of the voice, and none was obvious for a long minute. A short man burst through the door to the back room with several boxes in his arms. He deposited them smoothly. "Welcome, welcome. How can I help you?"
Harry opened his mouth, then shut it. He considered that for a moment.
"I'm looking for a new wardrobe I guess." He shrugged.
He'd only brought a few outfits in his suitcase anyway. Most of his things he'd left behind because he'd just been so ready to leave the UK that he couldn't be bothered with anything more than keeping up the appearance for the muggles he was meeting with.
"Measurements, measurements." The man strode forward, slapping his arms out of the way. Harry obliged with humor. He was more focused on the task than Madam Malkin had been. When the guy seemed satisfied with measuring what felt like every single inch of Harry's body, he finally backed away. He was taking notes and muttering to himself. Notes done, he set off on a mission. "Formal? Semi-formal? Casual?" the guy called as he zipped around.
Harry blinked, unsure how to answer.
"A little of everything I guess," he offered. "Definitely some suits for work and some business casual. Wearing the suits in the sand today wasn't fun."
"Suits in the sand." The guy looked back at him like he'd said something atrocious.
Harry just nodded. "For work." It's not like he had been sunbathing in a three piece. He found suits a little stuffy if he was honest, even more so in the bright California sunshine. He'd adapted to them, though. He'd been forced to wear dress robes that closely resembled a suit for years now.
It almost felt strange to walk around without one while he was working.
The man's head was shaking as he sorted out some outfits. Harry busied himself looking at ties and shoes. He'd never really cared for clothes shopping. He'd always just worn whatever he could find easiest. It had led to him having a hodge podge of ill fitting, drab, and eclectic pieces. Hermione had once joked that even after being raised by muggles he had the fashion sense of a wizard.
He watched the man buzz around for nearly twenty minutes. He hadn't really expected a personal shopper. He figured the guy would've told him a size and sent him to the racks. Maybe he knew a lost cause when he saw one. Harry was eventually waved over and shown to a rather spacious fitting room. There was an absolutely ridiculous amount of clothing inside. He stared at it, intimidated as his eyes flicked to the man who'd picked it all out.
"You try them on and hang the ones you like outside the door. I will find you color options in those styles," he said simply and exited. Harry was left alone with an absolute mountain of clothing to sift through.
It took him nearly two hours to try on everything. It all fit surprisingly well. The man was good at his job. Some of what he picked was perhaps a bit too elaborate for Harry's taste. There was a whole section of brocade fabrics that Harry kept a wary distance from.
When he finished it was to find the man already bagging some items for him. He met Harry's eyes and trailed back over quickly to show him a swatch of colors.
"Red will suit your skin tone well. Dark colors will pop. Green will bring out the color in your eyes." He started rambling off choices. Harry noticed that he skipped a lot of colors. They must have been ones that the man felt didn't suit his complexion or something. After rambling for a solid five minutes about color selection the man paused and looked at Harry expectantly.
Harry panicked. "Uuuuh… whatever you think is best?"
The man nodded as if that was the wisest choice. He hustled to the back room. He left the door hanging open and started to pull colors. Harry was surprised by how much green he saw in the man's hands, but he let it be and wandered toward the front of the store. He stood watching the city buzz past through the front window for some time. It was strange how things could look so incredibly different from city to city. The clothes, cars, and even the body language all very foreign.
"How long have you been in town?"
He hadn't heard the man come back up. Impressive, considering the absolute tower of clothing he was handling. Harry stared at it for a moment. How the hell was he going to get that all back to the place he was staying? Would he even have reasons to wear that much clothing?
"Just today," he answered honestly.
"And you're buying a full wardrobe?" the man asked, perhaps a bit skeptically.
Harry shrugged. "Left everything behind."
The man shook his head as if amused.
"For the best I think," he answered, taking notes on what he was bagging. "Your suit looks cheap, but your ring and your shoes scream old money. I don't know who let you walk out in that but they should get a ticket."
Harry's fingers went to the ring he was wearing on reflex. He wasn't sure if he should be insulted by the comment. He hadn't picked out the suit. It was one he'd been given by the auror's office to 'blend in' with muggles. Maybe it was out of fashion. It would certainly be a very wizard move. He eyed the black fabric curiously.
With everything bagged Harry took a moment to really appreciate just how much he was about to buy. He really didn't want to have to carry all of that without magic. "We deliver for free on orders this big."
Harry blinked and turned his attention to the man ringing up his order.
"That's a relief," he sighed. "I haven't gotten a car yet."
The man paused, as if he was thinking something over.
"The name is Lee," he offered and the question in his eyes made it obvious he was hinting for Harry to give his.
"Harry," he replied simply. Lee nodded.
"You seem a bit lost." Lee returned to ringing up his total.
"Ah." Harry laughed lightly. "Maybe. New starts can be hard. I've never tried another country before."
Lee nodded knowingly and grabbed a card from the table next to the register. Harry had seen the ones for the shop displayed there, but this one had Lee's name displayed proudly across the top with the words 'fashion advisor' just under it.
"Fashion advisor?" he read the words aloud and gave Lee a questioning look.
"You could use one." Lee nodded, but then he looked up and met Harry's eyes. "But it's my personal number. You could probably use a friend more."
"Oh." Was the only thing that made it out of him as he stared at the card. His eyes flicked back to the man, trying to process the obvious insult bookended with an offer of friendship.
"We go out on Fridays and Saturdays, my friends and I," Lee continued. He seemed done with the ringing of Harry's purchases, but he was still fiddling with something behind the counter. "I'm sure they would enjoy someone new in the group. Standing offer. You did say you moved here today and you're working already. So, I assume you're a busy person."
"Ah." Harry nodded. "Hours are a bit unpredictable. I'll hold on to this, though. I appreciate that."
"What do you do anyway? Did you get a part in a movie or something?"
"FBI," Harry lied easily. It was easier than telling the truth anyway. Lee just stared at him for a moment before flipping a card machine his way.
"I would've bet you were an actor. You've got the fake smiles down and that leading man look."
Harry balked slightly at the price and then at the comment Lee made. He felt supremely uncomfortable with that assessment and the way the man was eying him now.
"I… that's not…" He could feel his face getting a bit heated.
Lee just chuckled mildly at his discomfort. It didn't feel like he was mocking him, only amused.
"Calm down, man. You're in LA. Every barista has acting credits and a dream. People are going to assume." Lee taped a note to the stack of Harry's bags. "I'll call the driver we use from time to time. You have an address?"
Harry slipped out the piece of paper he had the address written on. Lee turned it his direction and hesitated, glancing up at Harry. "Bel air?"
Harry quirked a brow at the tone. Lee just shook his head at Harry's non-reaction.
"Old money," he heard Lee mutter under his breath.
Harry knew what the phrase meant. It was used for families like the Malfoys who had grown up with the massive wealth that their families had hoarded before they were even born. Like the Blacks whose lordship Harry had taken when he turned eighteen. Sirius had done a lot of things while he'd been locked away in the disgusting manor on Grimmauld Place. That included writing out a will and setting Harry up to take the lordship. He done a lot of things he'd never mentioned. When Harry finally had time to pick through the pieces after the war, what he'd found had only broken his heart again.
"Should be there in a few hours, tops."
Harry shrugged. "I have some other stuff to pick up. Do you know a good place to get glasses?"
"You wear glasses?" Lee huffed in amusement. "Contacts right now?"
"My vision is terrible," he admitted with a nod. Lee laughed lightly.
"If you go out to the right there's a place just a couple of blocks up. They're usually pretty empty this time of day. They might be able to get you a walk in appointment. There's a pharmacy one block past that. Should be able to get any house supplies if you need those."
Harry nodded and with a goodbye and a promise to call, extracted by Lee, he was off.
He stopped by the optometrist first. As Lee had mentioned, they got him in for a vision screening quickly. Even quicker when he'd admitted he didn't have insurance and he was going to pay cash. He left the place with sample contacts, and an order placed for more contacts and some glasses.
He stopped by the drug store and picked up toiletries and some interesting snacks that he'd definitely never seen back in the UK. The place also had lots of packaged food in the freezer section and Harry debated on buying some until he got a feel for the city and was able to get better groceries.
By the time he was done, his arms were absolutely laden with bags and he was starting to understand why Americans drove everywhere. He was exhausted.
He checked the time. It had been over two and a half hours since he left the clothing shop. He pulled out his phone to order an uber. He should be making his way home to make sure he was there for the delivery.
Home was a weird way to think about the mostly empty house. He supposed that's what it was now. Before he'd moved out here, it had been more of a sad reminder of the life that he never got to live with his godfather. Just like the manor Sirius had spent the last months of his life in.
Sirius had put papers through to purchase the home Harry was now staying in as soon as he was cleared of charges. He'd never seen the place except in photographs. It was a beautiful house, and Sirius had wanted them to be able to escape the cloudy, claustrophobic air in England. The sunny California beaches were definitely a far cry from his birthplace.
Harry's uber arrived promptly. After a briefly embarrassing moment where Harry had been unable to get the trunk open with his arms weighed down (the driver had to step out to help him), they were on their way. They made it back to his place nearly an hour later. They hadn't even been particularly far. Traffic was just horrendous. Rush hour, the driver had called it. Harry hadn't used muggle transportation often outside of subways in London. American traffic jams were an absolute headache.
He'd only just started putting things away when there was a ring of the doorbell which echoed through the cavernous space. Harry looked at the home again. It really was too big for one person, maybe even one family. It was very ostentatious. He'd preferred the warm coziness of the Burrow growing up. Sirius probably just wanted something open after feeling so trapped for so long.
Harry answered the door, bag still caught on one arm from where he'd been putting away mouthwash and other bathroom necessities. Lee and another man, probably in his twenties, were stood there absolutely laden down with Harry's clothes. He moved to help, grabbing bags from both of them.
"You can, ah, leave them there if you'd like."
They dropped the bags and made for the van sitting near the door. Not even a goodbye? That was odd. He didn't pay it much mind though. He trailed up the stairs and to the bedroom he'd picked for himself. It wasn't the biggest, but it did have the best view. Rolling hills stretched around the home filled with trees and the occasional home. In the near distance was LA's downtown, shining bright as the day was beginning to transition into night.
"Damn, sweet digs."
Harry tried not to let his packages go flying everywhere. He hadn't realized he'd been followed. He really was out of it today. Where was all of his auror training suddenly?
"Oh, um…?"
"Name's Damien," the guy offered, extending a hand from where he'd just set down more bags. "I deliver for Lee's place every once in a while."
"Thank you for bringing everything. Is it customary to tip? I'm very bad at American tipping culture," Harry asked, genuinely unsure.
The guy flustered which probably meant yes, but he didn't want to just come out and say it. Harry pulled out his wallet and fetched the first two bills he had his hands on. Two hundreds came loose. He wasn't great with the exchange rate. From galleons to Euros to pounds and now the American dollar. It was all way too much math. He handed the bills to the man as Lee entered with, hopefully, the last of it. Harry checked his watch. Only about six thirty.
"Is that everything?" he asked. "I didn't realize it was so much."
Lee gave him a deadpan stare. "You thought you paid that much for less?"
Ah, well, it had been a rather large number he supposed. Exchange rate or not.
"Right." Harry laughed sheepishly. "Fair point."
"You have plans tonight, dude?" Damien asked. "We were going to grab something to eat."
"I have work in the morning, but I did still need to buy a car. Are lots still open this late?" Harry was sure he'd be ubering to work again if he couldn't get something tonight. That wasn't ideal, but he'd manage if he had to. Lee was shaking his head, but it didn't seem to be in answer to his question. Damien seemed to be overly excited and practically tugged Harry toward the front door to his confusion.
"You brought up cars," Lee said by way of explanation as he followed.
Ah, Damien must like cars.
"I've got the perfect place," Damien assured him.
Harry considered the man pulling him along. He probably would have extracted himself from the situation if he was back in England.
He let himself be pulled forward. Why not? It was a new country, maybe he'd let himself live by new rules. The old ones had never done him any favors.