a Galway bred bastard

Vanja nodded, essentially agreeing with the other. “It does, in some aspects. Ehhh, that doesn’t really matter,” they shrugged, almost tipping over before catching their footing and continuing. “Let’s say… a friend. Or, someone potentially more than that.”

“And you’re aiming to try and impress them into the potentially more, aren’t you?” Patrick tried to remember how he’d originally gone about wooing Hilda. Fast cars and an introduction to a new world, mostly. He wasn’t entirely sure if that would work for this kid. “Got any special talents you can bank on?” He’d lifted a nice necklace for Hilda once or twice.

“what the fuck?” Leona said under her breath, tapping the stone with her wand for what felt like the thousandth time. She had gotten a great NEWT grade, but that’d been a while ago, and she couldn’t seem to get the counter-spell to work. Her walk around Hogsmeade had been partially ruined by some annoying fourth years transfiguring a duck into the previously mentioned stone and not bothering to put it back, all while its ducklings looked frantically for their mom. Fuck teenagers, but more importantly, fuck transfiguration. “Hey! You! help me turn her back.” 

Patrick blinked. This was... something he really ought to run into more often now he lived in a mostly Wizarding community. He still didn’t quite know what to do with casual magic, rather than the furtive stuff when the doors and curtains stayed shut. Transfiguration wasn’t his forte but he could give it a go. “Err, sure I can try. She was... she was a duck, yeah? Did you notice what species? Don’t want to accidentally make her something different.”

“If you were trying to impress someone, what would be the first thing you would do?” Vanja asked, looking over at the person beside them rather curiously. They kept both hands tucked neatly in their pockets as they walked along the high curb of concrete that lined the sidewalk. Sure, it was a bit risky for balancing reasons, but they were convinced that they could make it work. “What would you focus on?”

“That depends, doesn’t it?” Patrick asked, his mind on Hilda. The more research he poured into Britain’s custody laws and the apparent lack of Wizarding counterpart laws made him wonder if he ought to just go back to trying to win Hilda back. It felt a bit disrespectful, honestly. She’d chosen someone else and that was fine, it honestly was. “Who are you trying to impress, and why?”

While Tristan wasn’t an expert in babies, he knew that they were supposed to come out tiny and he smiled at Patricks’ undiluted enthusiasm. “Seam Finnegan is a lucky baby.” Because clearly he had a dad that loved him very much and Tristan couldn’t help but think about his own father for a moment, how he’d whisked Xio away because he hadn’t wanted to face the disappointment. It was difficult to picture him ever being as enthused about either of his children as Patrick so clearly was about his own. “I should get your baby a gift.”

“He’s only a Finnegan because Hilda didn’t get her name changed.” It didn’t stop how much Patrick loved them both and it didn’t changed anything about the custody situation either. Still, he’d give anything for them to be a proper actual family. Even if he’d never get it. “Seamus is gonna grow up loved beyond reason, I know he is. Just hope I get to be a part of it. He’s gonna be a great kid, I just know he is. I dunno what he needs, though. But I’m sure he’d love a gift.”

“Always bring a lookout. Always.”

“First, never give up on your kid. Not ever. Second, I dunno, love them more than anything else? I’m still kinda new at it all.”

“Oh. Best for you.” Tristan said, smiling in surprise at Patrick. That was far more relieving than anything he’d pictured being told and Patrick’s joy was something that rang through no matter what language you happened to speak, leading Tristan to clap Patrick’s arm in congratulations. “That is good news. The cat is well and fat and spoiled. Tell me of the baby.” He requested. While relationships weren’t Tristan’s strong suit, he knew beyond a question of a doubt that he wanted kids one day, and several of them to boot.

It didn’t really take much to get Patrick talking about Seamus. Honestly he’d told the cashier at the store, the mail person, and the next door neighbor already. Not to mention his entire family.  Patrick bounced up and down on the balls of his feet. “He’s amazing, Tristan, he’s the best thing. Hilda named him Seamus, and he’s the tiniest little baby. He’s got lungs like you wouldn’t believe, and I’ve never loved anything half as much as I love him.”

Marcus was pretty sure the man making faces at Millie was the guy who’d given him back his wallet. He wasn’t super worried the man was about to steal Millie, and he was pretty sure if he put his hand near her she’d bite him. She was starting to do that, and he wasn’t unconvinced Levi hadn’t taught her. 

He however couldn’t help the sly smile that crossed his face as he cleared his throat. 

“Ah yes I recognized you too. Patrick correct? And yes this is my daughter Millie although I’d warn you she’s in a biting phase right now.”She hadn’t broken the skin yet but she’d got him a few times with a small growl he was pretty sure she was trying to be a creature. He didn’t even think she realized it hurt when she did it. 

He chuckled, sitting back on his heels as Marcus spoke. “Oh, my niece was the worst biter as a baby, didn’t grow out of it until she was three.” 

At least he knew things about raising kids. That would give him a leg up, right? His family could vouch for him in court. Did wizards have family court? Valentina had been helpful but he couldn’t really afford a lawyer. He’d just drowned himself in law research he didn’t understand. But he couldn’t give up the chance to have Seamus in his life.

“Sorry, I know it’s kind of rude to just--” he gestured towards myself sitting on the ground and Millie gurling in her stroller. Merlin, she was a sweet looking girl. Even if she did bite people occasionally. “It’s just my own kid’s due soon, so I guess I’m just a little hyper-focused on babies at the moment.”

A retired thief. Who worked in the Ministry for Magic. Fascinating. And extraordinarily back luck for Nic. Would the man- Patrick Finnegan, read the ID in Nic’s raised fingers- make Nic turn out his pockets? He couldn’t be caught with the other IDs. That would be the end of him. 

The warning made Nic let out a short laugh in spite of himself. Please. He knew how to handle himself here; he was a regular visitor to the DMLE after all, alternating between wasting their time and providing legitimate leads. He was pretty sure Auror Shacklebolt could sense his presence at this point, he’d been saddled with Nic’s interviews so often. Nic was pretty sure that the department just thought he was a nuisance, not a legitimate danger. It worked to his advantage. 

Except for now, apparently. 

“You give advice to thieves? What would they say?” Nic gestured loosely with his other hand to the sparse crowds milling around them, not that anyone had noticed the tenseness of the conversation going on between them. Nic’s smile was highly sarcastic, not showing any of the anxiety he actually felt curling in his gut.

“For all they know, I’m just lecturing a stranger in the lobby.” Patrick said. His arrest record was strictly Muggle, and the Ministry was too far up its ass to ever check into anything like that. Actually have to liaise with the world outside their bubble? Not exactly their style, especially not these days.

Pat took his ID back and slid it into place, giving the man in front of him a careful once-over. Pick-pockets rarely struck once in a room this large. Surely his quick fingers had gotten others as well. “Something tells me I’m not the only one you hit today.” He said carefully. “Think it’d be best if any other... misplaced IDs got back where they came from.”

This man walked around the lobby with a comfort that prickled at the back of his head. It was that voice that Yuki kept drilling into him during practices, to look closer when it seemed to simple; to poke when most people would let it lie. A pick-pocket didn’t seem dangerous, but he knew himself what a thief could do.

At first, the sound seemed to come as a small whisper. Like an alarm that is trying to get to you through your dreams. Slowly, blowing out the smoke, Xiomara recognized her own name being shouted. Turning her head from the bench that she laid on, she recognized the man coming towards her. Dropping the cigarette on the ground, she slowly lifted herself up to her elbows, her brow arching slightly at the familiar face. “Well, aren’t you happy to see me.” She grinned. As it was so late - for her- it took a while to understand the words he was mumbling towards her. It was as if she needed an extra second to put the words correctly in her head. That never happened to wish Portuguese or Spanish. English just didn’t come as easy as the other. “Hold on.” She said, lifting her index finger up at him. “A dad?” Xiomara chuckled, remembering Pat was actually more mature than he sometimes let on. “Well, then my dear Pat. Parabéns, pelo nascimento do vosso bébé!” She smiled and finally moved herself to a proper sitting position so that she could offer him a hug. “So does that mean you and Hilda will also be a family?” She questioned. 

“I’m always happy to see you, bugger off.” He said, his grin still miles and miles wide. Merlin it was almost starting to hurt but he couldn’t help. Caleb and Hilda had actually let him in the room and he’d seen Seamus born and held his little son in his arms and nothing could take that away from him. That memory would stay with him forever. No way he’d walk out of Seamus’s life now.

“Thanks, thanks he’s the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen in the world.” He hugged her back and laughed a little, still so giddy. “Oh, probably not. Pretty sure I only got in the room at all because I’m doing Caleb a favor. Not gonna stop me trying though. God, Xio, he’s so tiny!”

Looking at the sky, she would have guessed it was around 6, maybe 7 in the morning. The sky was completely blue, and there was hardly any sound surrounding her. Maybe it was 6 in the morning after all. Xiomara was laying on a bench, her eyes focused on the sky, hoping that the clouds would soon form. Sometimes, after a big party, that wasn’t really her thing, she’d escape and just p[retend she was back at home. Tristan by her side and they’d be telling each other what which cloud meant. Though most of the time, Xio would like to turn into the oracle and predict the future. You will meet a hot blonde, whose heart you will break because you’re too good for them. She’d say to him without looking back at him. That still remained true to this day, she was still very protective of her brother. 

She lifted her hand up, placing a cigarette between her lips and inhaling, allowing the smoke to fill her lungs graciously. She didn’t smoke all of the time, but in the quiet mornings like these, smoking just seemed to feel better. You could almost hear the fire crackling around the ashes each time she inhaled. “Meu Deus.” She said to no one in particular as she exhaled the smoke, creating small circles with her mouth. These mornings were the few times she actually enjoyed the quiet around her.

It had been weeks since he saw Xio. Absolute weeks. Patrick didn’t have many people that he felt comfortable calling an actual friend but Xio made the list. Not having her around to nag or shoot the shit with felt weird. He didn’t know where she’d scarpered off to and Tristan didn’t seem to feel like sharing, which just broke his little heart. Especially now that he had news to share. Big news, the very best news in the whole world.

“Xio!” He called as he saw her down the street. Finally! “Oi Xiomara, come over here and congratulate a new dad!”

Patrick was grinning ear from ear as he said it, the image of his baby son in his arms still fresh in his mind. He’d never been happier. Not even marrying Hilda had compared and marrying Hilda had been one of the best things to ever happen to him full-stop.

“What? No, I haven’t seen Xiomara recently. Why do you need her?” Tristan asked, confusion so thick in his voice that it mostly managed to mask the concern. Tristan didn’t really like it when people came asking after Xiomara - back home he knew they were likely just looking for a hook-up, but in this country, knowing the people that Xiomara was around, Tristan couldn’t help but worry that it was something more insidious, that she was in trouble. Was she in trouble? Was that why he hadn’t seen her? So many reasons to be concerned, so little chance of ever redeeming himself as a good big brother. “Do you have a message?”

Patrick hadn’t quite stopped walking like a gobsmacked idiot. He’d watched Seamus come into the world and he hadn’t fainted. Not even when Hilda and Patrick had let him hold his son.  His beautiful, screaming, tiny baby son. Sure he still didn’t have visitation and he had no access to Seamus at all, but he’d got to see him born. “I just wanted to tell her my kid was born.” He said, smile so wide it hurt. “How’s your cat?”

Caleb deeply regretted not getting a name when the man came to the studio. He hadn’t thought about it then and had been distracted by perhaps the man’s looks. If only he had kept his mind together it would have prevented him from being thrown into a cell and having aurors watching him. “Bar fight? Sounds professional,” Caleb said, his tone dripping in sarcasm but gave a grin to allude to his humor. “Hope that all works out and there’s not too much paperwork.”

“He was…a bit shorter than me. We stood next to each other enough but…maybe there was an accent. I’m not sure. Looked like an attractive art thief,” Caleb described vaguely, closing his eyes briefly as the words pulled out of him. It was barely enough to work with him and nothing new. 

Caleb knew that Hilda would be mentioned as it did every time that he saw Patrick, but there was something different. Patrick was the only one who knew it was his child and was had been determined to break Hilda’s thought about the distance every time. It was almost commendable. “Two days,” Caleb commented in a murmur, not bothering to look at Patrick. “We aren’t going to name him Patrick. Hilda has a relative that she wants to name the child after. Seamus.”

“She didn’t start it, the racists did.” Patrick said with shrug. They’d started it with words and Yuki’d finished it with her fists. Honestly if he wasn’t impressed with his boss before this he certainly was now. “But it’s not too bad she’ll be out soon and we can get things back on track. Since I’m technically still a Junior Hit Wizard there’s not much I can do unaccompanied.”

Patrick raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Yeah we’re gonna either gonna need a general description of what you consider attractive or a bit more to go on, mate. That’s fairy subjective.” Especially since he didn’t fancy men and he had no idea what Yuki preferred.

He choked on air. Seamus? Lord above. 

That was his middle name. 

Hell, he knew the child was his, he knew. But knowing and hearing Hilda name their kid Seamus was-- shit. Patrick coughed violently, thumping himself on the chest. Right. Seamus.

“That’s uh, that’s a good strong name. It’s Irish for James.”

Nic wasn’t technically a kleptomaniac, but the frequency with which his wandering hands liberated people from their belongings would certainly suggest otherwise to anyone aware of his tendencies. Sometimes he didn’t even notice he was doing it, or his magic would hiccup in the air around him and he’d find himself having taken things without ever having actually lifted a hand. Other times it was a nervous tick that served to soothe his ever-present nerves. 

And those nerves had certainly been shaken recently, not in the least by witnessing the mangled body of Anson Wood appear at a Valentine’s Ball. Nic had never actually seen a dead body before. It had scared something instinctual in him so that even now, over a month later, he wasn’t quite back to his normal equilibrium. 

That could be the only possible explanation for the fact that he hadn’t merely been caught just now, but that his hand was physically restrained midair. 

He froze, eyes widening as he stared at the hand gripping his wrist and glanced up to meet the man’s hard eyes. He was meant to be nicking Ministry IDs to pass along to other Death Eaters for purposes of subterfuge and general clerical confusion. There was already a small collection of them in his coat pocket, except this man’s clearly wouldn’t be joining them. 

“How did you do that?” he asked, accent thick with surprise as he stared. The ID was still held lightly between his fingers.

“You don’t steal from thieves, mate. Even if they are out of the business.” Patrick said, voice low so that only Nic could hear him. What the fuck this man was up to walking around picking pockets in the middle of the damn Ministry, Pat didn’t know. It seemed like a stupid move. If this man tried this on Moody, he’d find himself down a hand. Though he wasn’t sure if he wanted to warn the stranger or just see what happened.

He didn’t drop Nic’s hand and he made sure to keep distance between them. Pat had spent more than enough time around thieves and criminals to just let Nic go or drop his guard. 

“Can I recommend not having wandering hands in a room full of highly alert cops and hit wizards?” He asked, giving Nic a quick up and down look to check for a Ministry ID. Maybe this man had already swiped a badge and gotten access to something. Nothing that Patrick could see.

It had been a few months since he had been arrested on suspicious charges of handling illegal art. By the same account, it had been a few months since Patrick humiliated him and bailed him out. There weren’t many people that Caleb trusted yet and though he wasn’t warmed to Patrick, he knew the man had good intentions and before Hilda was pregnant, she had spoken well of his character. 

Caleb answered the door and he was surprised to see Patrick. He cocked a brow and ushered him inside anyway, his questions leading him to do so out of blatant curiosity. “A status report, right. So I’m guessing that means you caught him? Or have a line up ready for me?” Caleb didn’t know what the procedure was and was only guessing at what the next steps would be. 

His interest fell when Patrick asked him about Hilda and Caleb should have known it would be asked. It was nearing her due date, the nurses telling her she was due any day. “Yes, any day now. Hilda looks round and happy. The nurses think she might be due on St. Patrick’s Day.”

“Uh, no. My uh, my senior field agent may have gotten herself thrown into jail for a bar fight? It’s fine though they’ll let her out soon she definitely wasn’t at fault.” He’d also taken a mild trip to the hospital but that didn’t quite need mentioning. Everything had healed and he wasn’t actively dying or anything so like, why bring it up? No need for Caleb to think he couldn’t take care of himself or anything like that.

“We have progress though, just not yet enough for a line-up. Haven’t gotten to anyone I think actually sold you the art but we found a few other low-level fronts like you and maybe someone who could know your mysterious French man. So we’re working on it.” Or at least he had been, last time he’d been allowed in front of his desk.

Patrick let out a shaky breath and sat down. “Shit, that’s really soon.” He’d known she was due some time in March but-- St. Patrick’s Day. Shit. “Don’t let her name him Patrick, please don’t let her do that. Not with that birthday.” Sure it was his name, but he wasn’t a St. Patrick’s Day baby was he? He had some self-respect.

Edith and Valerija never really expected much company over their apartment aside from Vanja and a few of their mutual friends. Realistically though, no one tended to show up without warning other than Vanja, and there had never been a reason for him to knock. Curious but cautious, Edith walked to the door with her wand in her back pocket just in case, opening it ever so slightly. Growing up in a house of all women, she learned early on to never just throw your door open to anyone. Even in times like this when war was at every corner, someone you think you know could very well be in disguise. 

“Hello,” she greeted politely. Of all the things that could have left this man’s mouth, Edith hadn’t expected to be called her sister’s name. That was twice now within a month. Normally she wouldn’t have minded, and it wasn’t so much that she minded being called another name, but they were different people, after all. “Er, no, actually… That’s my sister.” Edith chose to laugh it off, hoping she didn’t make him too flustered. “Edith Clearwater. The older, and taller twin,” she joked.

“Oh.” Patrick said, trying to remember if Miriam had mentioned having a twin. He was mostly certain that she hadn’t but that didn’t mean much. The Magical Neep had been... eye-opening, in a word. “Oh yeah, you are. Sorry. Didn’t know she had a twin.”

Honestly he’d kind of expected to just get lucky and find Bailey right away. Why, he didn’t know. It wasn’t as though his luck had ever held before now. Back when he’d made a career out of picking pockets and lifting cars he’d made sure that luck didn’t factor in to whether or not he got caught. Living a legal and law-abiding life involved way too much of it. 

“There’s not really a chance there’s a Bailey here, is there?” He asked. “About this high,” Patrick gestured to relative measurement, “lots of hair, very blunt? I’ve been looking for her but she’s uh, she’s a bit harder to track down than expected.”