Author's Note: I am not sure how I feel about this chapter. I wanted to give some insight to Harry's thought process but I am not sure if I made it as clear as I intended.
Chapter 3: Reckoning and Routine
That first fateful night in the club ended with Harry making his way back to Privet Drive as the sun came up.
Vernon was, of course, furious. "Boy, where in the bloody Hell have you been all night. The meals will not cook themselves you ungrateful freak!"
Harry barely spared Vernon a glance as he made his way upstairs. He was surprised when he found himself being yanked roughly off of the second step. Vernon had fisted a handful of the back of Harry's shirt and pulled. Harry stumbled backwards but managed to stay upright.
"Where do you think you're going?" a flabbergasted Vernon yelled. Not that he cared where the 'boy' went, but by God, he would not be ignored in his own home.
With an obviously bored expression, Harry drawled "I'm going to bed. I'd hate to have to tell my friends that I am not allowed to sleep." He then turned and made his way up the stairs again.
A shocked Vernon simply let him walk away. "The boy is always a nuisance, but he is not usually outright defiant. He probably would set those damn freaks on us."
Harry passed by the by the bathroom, foregoing any morning ablutions, went into his room and threw himself onto his rickety bed. Now that he was back in the solitude of his own private thoughts, he again found his mind filled with noise. Thoughts of Sirius, 'God, Sirius no', Voldemort, 'Get out, get out, get out', a finicky wizarding world, and his own actions the night before swirled in his mind creating a cacophony of yearning, regrets, and shame.
So many of his thoughts were in conflict and he saw no possibility of resolution. He knew that he should be ashamed by his actions from the night before, 'I let some strange man use me, what was I thinking', but if he was honest with himself, he just did not care. He liked being surrounded by music; it drowned out the noise in his mind and made it impossible to think about anything else. The oft ignored part of himself that was simply an unwanted orphan enjoyed the attention of an older man being focused solely on him. He knew logically that he should not have to submit himself in such a shameful manner to get some semblance of affection, but it felt so good that he couldn't bring himself to care.
'If I want to go out again, I need to go to Gringott's and I definitely need to get more cigarettes.' The thought of cigarettes immediately led to a craving but he remembered that he had smoked his last one at the bus stop on his way back to Surrey. He wondered what the neighbors would think if they saw him flicking ashes out the window. 'They think I am an 'incurably criminal boy' anyhow, why not at least live up to the reputation. That role is much easier to play than the role of Boy-Who-Lived.'
With that final morose thought, Harry fell into an exhausted sleep. While he still dreamed, the dreams seemed to have lost a bit of their terrifying edge due to Harry's exhaustion.
Harry woke at two in the afternoon, and decided he would leave early and make his way to Gringott's. He mustered up the will to take a shower and to brush his teeth, then pocketed his wallet and vault. He debated bringing a cloak, but decided to brave Diagon Alley in muggle attire and a baseball cap so as not to have to carry a satchel to place the cloak in afterward. 'No one would expect me there anyway and no one even knows what Harry Potter looks like since they have never looked past the scar'.
The hour long bus ride passed quickly for Harry and he quickly made his way to the Leaky cauldron and entered Diagon Alley. Overall, the trip was surprisingly uneventful. Harry was able to make his way to Gringott's and retrieve enough gold from his vault to exchange for four hundred pounds; goblins apparently did not care who did business with them or why, so long as they did business with them. He was able to make his way back into muggle London and buy his long awaited pack of cigarettes. 'I am really going to have to figure out a way to smoke at Hogwarts. Huh, I wonder why I have never seen anyone else smoke. Even if it were only limited to muggleborns, I would think that I would know of at least one person who smokes.'
Walking in the same direction he did the night before, he debated whether or not to go back to the club he had found. He knew it wasn't the wisest course of action, but he really did not know where else to go and if he was honest with himself, he was hoping to find Michael again. He had yet to come to a conclusion about the 'Michael incident'. He knew that he found it, 'yes, yes Harry, just say it, because I can't even think the correct term without blushing. Brilliant Harry', exciting, but he was even more excited about the companionship that did not require any effort on his part, 'Huh, who is using who in this scenario?'
Deciding on a course of action, Harry made his way to the club. After paying the door charge, he spent the next fifteen minutes wandering until he came to the play room in the book. He then spent the next half hour watching a variety of scenes play out. 'Who knew handcuffs, spanking, and floggers could be sexual?'.
Harry was startled from his musings when Michael approached him from the side. "See anything you like?"
Flushing, Harry stammered, "Um no, not really. No. Just watching."
Michael grinned, "Alright, how about I 'just watch' with you". Harry, wide-eyed, simply nodded and set his attention back onto the room in front of him.
After a short time, Michael whispered suggestively, much in the same way that Harry remembered from the night before, "Come on baby, how about a slow dance then I will give you some of the one-on-one attention you seem to want."
Harry could not tell if Michael was just being coy or if he could really pick up on Harry's need for attention. Either way, he decided he didn't care.
That night ended in a similar manner as the night before and Harry again made his way back to Privet drive feeling even more empty than when he had left. Once the night was over, all of the positive feelings he experienced at the club and with Michael seemed to evaporate, leaving him feeling drained.
When he arrived at the Dursleys', Harry was surprised when his Uncle simple glared at him. 'Maybe if we all just pretend that I don't exist when I am here, the summer will go much smoother than normal'
Over the next three weeks, Harry continued his jaunts into London. Sometimes he found Michael, sometimes he found someone new. While he was at the club, he felt wanted and was able to ignore the more negative aspects of his life. Each night, he went through a bit more alcohol and more and more cigarettes. He eventually found the perfect balance between buzzed and drunk and would reach that state an hour after reaching the club, with the help of buying admirers, and would remain that way the rest of the night. He found it easy to gain attention from at least one person each night and let himself be pulled along in whatever direction a man suggested.
On a Friday night at the end of Harry's three week jaunt at the club, Harry was dancing salaciously with Michael when someone new walked into the club.
The new patron made his way to the bar and sent a roving eye over the dance floor. He did a double take when he saw a short teenager with messy black hair and impossible green eyes grinding against a man that was likely twice his age. Unable to immediately process what he was seeing, his only thought was, 'Harry, what the bloody Hell are you thinking?'