December 14th, 1887 - Ross House
Ross was awake long before the paper arrived. They had run an excellent campaign and he was proud either way, but - he wanted to win. He wanted to be Minister of Magic, although it was madness, although he knew his wife wanted quiet, although it meant even longer hours and even more paperwork. He sat at his armchair in the living room and waited for the paper to arrive, eventually retrieving baby Rhiannon from the nanny, and it was long before the late Scottish winter dawn that the owl from the Prophet clacked its talons against the windowsill.
He set Rhi down on the carpet and went to open the window. He tipped the owl a knut and undid the string binding the paper together, only to be greeted with a smiling picture of his own face. His heart jumped a beat. Knocking on the door to let the nanny know to retrieve Rhi, Ross set the paper down on the kitchen table and went to his wife's bedroom.
He knocked once, then pushed open the door.
"Ros," Ross said, grinning, "Ros, we did it."
He set Rhi down on the carpet and went to open the window. He tipped the owl a knut and undid the string binding the paper together, only to be greeted with a smiling picture of his own face. His heart jumped a beat. Knocking on the door to let the nanny know to retrieve Rhi, Ross set the paper down on the kitchen table and went to his wife's bedroom.
He knocked once, then pushed open the door.
"Ros," Ross said, grinning, "Ros, we did it."