Caveat Smeltonia (PG-13; Vernon Dursley/Vincent Crabbe, Sr; 350 words): Vincent isn't one of the lads.
No one knows about Marjorie. Vincent has never even told his best friend; Gregory wouldn't understand his having touched a Muggle, no matter the magnificence of her tits. Gregory wouldn't understand a lot of things, especially what ran through Vincent's mind as a lad while playing footie with Marjorie's brother and the Smeltings boys.
Caveat Smeltonia, Vincent thinks, watching Vernon arrive from his spot behind one of the large old trees lining the school's drive.
His trousers tighten uncomfortably as Vernon greets his old school chums, and he wishes that he were one of them; his adoration for Vernon has never quite faded.
Removing another of his mother's toasted tea cakes from his pocket, he shoves it into his mouth, thinking, My parents always warned me to stay away from here. I should have listened.
He should have, but he didn't, and when he heard about the reunion, he couldn't help but take a walk down to Smeltings; he knew he wouldn't be missed. He's never missed. The Dark Lord and his trusted followers are searching for something, something dangerous, or so go the rumours, and Vincent's wife and his parents are too taken up with his newborn brat. Vincent pretends to be proud of him, but in truth, he thinks his namesake is a mere lump of shitty, squalling fat.
Marjorie. Vernon helps her from the car before sending her inside, remaining behind to chat with the lads over their pipes.
Snatches of conversation drift in his direction, and he's surprised to realise that Vernon is bragging about his son.
Vincent's disappointed; he hadn't realised that Vernon had married.
What did you expect after all this time? That he'd have waited for you? That he'd want to see you?
Perhaps he had expected that; it hadn't been all furtive cock-sucking and fingering between them, after all. Vernon had kissed him.
When Vernon's lips had met his for the first time, Vincent had never felt more wanted, and ever since, he's found everyone else wanting.
Beware of Smelton, thinks Vincent, turning away to wipe his eyes. I shouldn't have come.