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."

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Had Mary Urquart done this, Roslyn wondered—had she gone about business as usual as she waited to find out if her life was about to become irrevocably changed? It seemed almost surreal to breakfasting in bed, a moment of quiet after the energy of the day before, and yet here she was—physically, at least. Mentally, Roslyn was off somewhere else, thinking of each and every ballot that had had to be counted, the little ticks beside her husband’s name. Today they would find out if his campaign had been a success, if he would become one of the most powerful wizards in Britain, politically speaking at least.

The knock was followed almost immediately by her husband’s entrance, an action the closeness of their marriage excused even under perfectly ordinary circumstances. The look on his face, though, was enough to impress upon her that these were not ordinary circumstances, and her mouth hung ever so slightly ajar in bewilderment at the announcement.

“Congratulations,” she offered warmly after a beat, smiling in spite of her misgivings about the whole situation. How could she not be happy when her husband was clearly so elated? “I am so very proud of you, my love. Did the Ministry send an owl?”

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— #PrettiesByMJ —

Although normally more astute, Ross' joy meant that he missed his wife's lack entirely.

"The Prophet beat them," Ross said, "Although I'm sure it's coming." He was going to move offices. He was going to have to find someone to replace him in the DMLE. He was sure that invitations would start arriving soon; people desperate to get social capital from the new Minister and his wife.

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Roslyn's eyebrows arched in surprise. It seemed almost anticlimactic that the paper would deliver the news before the official word—but then, she supposed, there was a great deal of protocol regarding Ministry of Magic affairs. Protocol that would now become her life.

"I imagine the next few days—weeks, even—will be very hectic," Ros allowed. "I shall tell Miss Darrow first thing in the morning, so that she might help prepare Idris." Fortunately, his young age meant their son would be little in the spotlight.

"Of course, there's also the matter of our families, your department heads—you'll have to make a speech sooner than later. Have you spoken with Konstantin?" She was, the witch realized, beginning to spiral slightly.

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— #PrettiesByMJ —

With a start, Ross realized that Ros was nervous. It was rare that his steadfast wife would be so shaken - but this was also so unlike anything they'd ever expected from their lives. Ross had never anticipated his being Department Head, let alone a member of the Wizengamot, let alone Minister. Roslyn Fisk never signed up for this.

He took a few steps forward to take his wife's hand. "We're going to send letters to the families, and especially Kons," Ross said quietly, "I'll start working on my speeches after breakfast. Miss Darrow will, I think, know what to say to Idris."

"It's going to be hectic, but we can handle it, Ros," Ross said. He smiled softly, the corners of his eyes crinkling up with it.

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Roslyn frowned, not liking the implication that the fully capable governess would instinctively know how to handle the situation. How could she, when Roslyn herself was all but at a loss? Still, she appreciated her husband’s certainty on the matter—that same certainty, she realize, which had gotten him elected.

“I daresay we’ve little choice in the matter, now you’ve gone and gotten yourself elected,” she returned, though a small smile quirked at her mouth in spite of herself.

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— #PrettiesByMJ —

Ross grinned. "You're right, of course," he said, "One could go so far as to call this next little stint an adventure." Ros had never sought adventures - but he had no doubt that she'd excel once they got started.

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“A large adventure,” she affirmed, trying to muster up some degree of enthusiasm for the man she loved. After all, it was hardly his fault that Roslyn had always favored the quiet life—and she had told him he could run. It would be at best childish and at worst cruel to try to take this moment away from him.

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— #PrettiesByMJ —