failure will never overtake me

"I'm curious about that too. Naturally he will be perfect." He was their son after all, there was no way for him to be anything less than that, but she wondered who he would take after more. Both in appearance and temperament. "I do hope he gets your height." She smiled up at him pulling him down for a kiss. "Sure, yeah. Let's go home."

Sethos wasn’t about to disagree, of course their son would be perfect. “Let’s be honest, he’s bound to take after his mother.” Still, he hoped the kid inherited his height. When Emma brought it up, he couldn’t help but chuckle, amused she always seemed to be one step ahead of him. “I’d say the odds are in his favour.”

“Good, your toes need the workout.” Lydia insisted, as though that had made any semblance of sense. Then Sethos kept talking and her eyes went wide. “You know the gender! Oh my god, lead with that next time Sethos! Come on, come on! I’ll race you there I’m so excited, I can’t believe you know! I hope it’s a girl you’d make such a good girl dad but oh if it’s a boy I can spend so much time rolling in the dirt! Though I could do that if it’s a girl too… this is so exciting!”

Sethos wasn’t surprised by Lydia’s burst of excitement, he’d figured she’d be thrilled the moment he mentioned the baby’s gender. “You want to race me?” he asked with a grin, glancing down at her. “Pretty sure you’ll need three steps for every one of mine.” His tone was teasing as he started making his way toward the door, deliberately picking up the pace. “You really think I’d make a good girl dad?” he called over his shoulder, waiting for her to actually sprint before he broke into a run himself.

She was pleased that they were having a son, she thought a son suited them and their lifestyle much more than a daughter would. Besides, it was much preferable to only have one child to having to deal with multiple, she could not imagine why one would want more than that. If their son was for some unfathomable reason a bad quidditch player, they would have to have another, obviously, but she didn't even consider the possibility of him being less than great.

Sethos was still caught in the moment, the quiet, staggering realisation that they were having a son. A child who would carry on the family name. An heir. For him, that meant they wouldn’t need to try for more. He liked the idea of a small family. With the way he was raised, it felt right for him.

Frank's eyes widened. He had to resist the urge to pinch himself. Sethos Flint was actually offering to let him buy this masterpiece, when by all rights he would give it the sort of attention and life it deserved. There was no way he could fly it nearly as often, or show it off nearly as frequently.

Sethos couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped when he caught the way Frank's face lit up. Letting go of the broom wasn’t easy, that was for certain, but he could already hear Emma’s voice if he tried to sneak another one into the manor.

Lydia didn't technically live in the manor any more, she had her own apartment in London and she spent loads of time there, but it didn't stop her from visiting more often than not. Someone had to keep her mother in line and making sure Marcus's blood pressure went up. She was the youngest child at the moment, and the job fell to her. But she didn't spend nearly as much time in Sethos and Emma's house.

Sethos wrapped his arms around his sister, pressing a light kiss to the top of her head. Ever since he learned Emma was pregnant, something had shifted in him, family suddenly felt more present, more important.

Building walls, huh? Flick knew all about that. That whole process had recently gotten her heart broken. She straightened up and forced herself to recenter. If this was her world now then she’d have to learn how to fix it. There was nothing else to it. It would only get worse if she sat around and did nothing.

It was strange, after spending months away caring for his mother, Sethos hadn’t fully grasped just how far things in London had unraveled until he heard it said out loud. The idea of raising a child here… it clung to the edges of his thoughts. “In times like these, it’s hard to blame anyone for the choices they make,” he said quietly, guilt tugging at his chest.

"Glad to know that you haven't left the world of us mortals," he teased. There was a different version of him that was worse with finances and would give in to spending all of his money on Quidditch would be the source for all of his vices: time spent in the air, watching games, and buying any team's merch. "Oh yeah? I don't know about collecting, but I think getting one and getting back into it could be good. A healer friend told me I should do something else with my hands outside of the hospital. Know any good players who could help coach me?" Beck smiled through the conversation, feeling even better from Sethos' genuine happiness that radiated off of him. "Oh I'm sure you won't hear the end of it either. She'll be back on the broom before we know it. And if you need any appointments or recommendations, I'm your guy," he said, parroting Sethos' words from before.

“I’m simply doing my part for the greater good,” Sethos joked with a laugh, shaking his head. Honestly, he couldn’t imagine his life without Quidditch, though lately, the thought of retirement had started to creep in more often than he liked. That was something to deal with later. “If you ever feel like getting back on a broom, I’d be happy to go flying with you,” he offered casually, though the sentiment was genuine. He didn’t extend that kind of invitation to just anyone, but something about Beck made him feel like a little encouragement could go a long way. A small, sly smile tugged at his lips. “I just might take you up on that offer. And I’ll definitely keep you in mind—we’ll probably need a healer soon enough.” His voice softened slightly at the mention, the unspoken excitement about the upcoming ultrasound hanging between the lines.

She shuddered, hating the truth layered in Sethos’s words. This wasn’t the world she wanted to gift her son. This wasn’t the sort of world anyone should leave a child. As soon as Anthony got a bit older, as soon as she could trust someone besides her parents or Pandora to watch him, she would have to start doing something about it.

Sethos glanced over at the woman beside him, studying her quietly. Part of him wondered what was going through her mind, but the truth was, he already knew where he stood. He had no doubts about that. And deep down, he was fairly certain it was their side that had started all of this. Not that he’d ever say it out loud.

“It’s in such good condition, I bet it still flies like it’s new.” Frank had considered becoming a pro Quidditch player once. He’d never really been good enough to make it anywhere serious, but he enjoyed the game. He liked flying.

Sethos’ face lit up with something close to reverence, his hand brushing along the polished handle of the broom. “Exactly,” he said, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “It’s not just a tool, it’s a companion. You feel the difference in every turn, every dive. A good broom doesn’t fight you, it moves with you.”

"Yes please, I'd love to come for dinner." Lydia bounced on her heels, excited. She had missed family dinners. Well more accurately she missed sibling dinners, and sometimes their mothers could come too. It made it feel like they were really family, something permanent, something that couldn't get taken away.

"Then it’s settled, you’ll come for dinner." His tone left no room for argument, warm but firm. The last thing he wanted was for Lydia to feel anything less than welcome. "I’ll send an owl with the details, but let’s do it soon."

where; diagon alley whomst; open

Sethos had been away for some time, and upon returning to London, he wandered the streets, taking in the aftermath with his own eyes. The damage was worse than he imagined. A quiet guilt tugged at him, he knew where he stood, the choices he’d made. They weren’t born of belief, but of protection, for his sister, and now, for the family he was building. He could never say it aloud, but he didn’t fully agree with the side he’d chosen.

They were having a boy.

Sethos gave a deep chuckle as he leaned in to press a kiss to her temple. Her hand was still in his, and he gave it a reassuring squeeze. “A son,” he repeated, the words still tasting new and incredible on his tongue. “You’re right, one and done. Perfect from the start.”

"Figured you'd have someone to fetch your own by now, you know," Beck teased, the corner of his mouth just hinting at a smile. They'd never actually crossed paths at school—Sethos was a few years up and over at Durmstrang—but Emma's friends were always an immediate extension of his own. "Caught one of your recent games, by the way. Glad you won, or my entire day would've been shot. Me? Oh I'm doing okay, I guess. Just busy. Trying to expand my hobbies beyond just, well, work," he admitted with a wry grin, glancing at the broom in question. "But enough about me, what about you. Congratulations, I heard the good news."

Sethos let out a short snort of laughter. He knew plenty of high-profile Quidditch players who had assistants for everything, but his mum had made sure he never got that full of himself.