[cork] success is counted sweetest by those who ne'er succeed || rowen

The young witch turned back to Genevieve as she drove her point further home, nodding along as her gaze floated back to the employees. Rowen understood what Evie was getting at, and a part of her knew that it would fully apply to herself. The Ravenclaw had to be challenged. Otherwise, she grew bored. And that lack of inspiration would be the end of her achievements. Rowen didn't want things that were easy; she didn't want them because she deserved them either. The witch wanted only the things that she had earned.

Turning her back to Genevieve, she cast a bratty scowl in the direction of the seamstress before running her hand over the soft material again. Indigo really was her color, it was bluish, like Ravenclaw, but also it was dark, which was fitting. Rowen had never cared for excessively bright clothing. There was nothing pastel in her closet and certainly nothing of the neon variety. "Yes, I will need something for brunch as well," Rowen didn't need any new clothes. Her closet back at Highwood House wasn't nearly as extensive as Evie's, but it was far from empty. "What is more appropriate, a dress or a skirt and blouse?" Rowen spun back around to face Genevieve and smiled. There were nuances to an event like Brunch; it was a casual term but not entirely informal, so Rowen thought it would be best to ask for guidance.

"No, I don't believe so," Oh, how Rowen would have absolutely adored having dresses made for her friends too. They could make a whole day out of it. However, she already knew Barbara's parents wouldn't love the idea. Rowen had asked before, but it always ended the same way, even (and especially) when Rowen offered to have her parents pay for the dress. Hyacinth was another story though; the Reeds were a lot like the Reinhardts when it came too expensive things. "Well, maybe, I will see what Hyacinth is wearing and let you know," Rowen would make sound her Hufflepuff friend was dressed to the nines, of course, but Hyacinth never had much probably with that on her own.

"But don't worry, I would never let them embarrass me, and by extension, you," Rowen gave her mentor a smirk before finally moving out of the way of the seamstress and returning to the chaise. She picked up a macaroon and nibbled on it as she silently went back to judging the hired witch's work.

“Call me lazy if you’d like but I always find that dresses are easily suitable for any of my engagements, of course when it comes to business a lady might prefer to wear a skirt, there is a sort a certain je ne sais quoi about wearing one, it does come off as a bit managerial, does it not?” she only invited her opinion because she wanted to hear it, otherwise Genevieve would not have bothered to ask the question at all, the witch had come to her own conclusion about clothing ages ago, it had been part of her education and she wondered if it was part of Rowen’s as well. “But Beatrice will make you as many things as you like, it isn’t as if she’s any better client to attend to,” the woman shrugged delicately, arching an eyebrow in the seamstress’ direction as if she were daring her to say differently. The woman continued working as if he had not heard a thing. Genevieve liked her employees silent, they were certainly much easier to reward.

“And let’s spare no expense, a girl your age needs to really think about her style and the sort of image you intend you’d like to establish for yourself, I’m all elegance and enchantment, I would never wear trousers even if my life depended on it,” she offered as form of example. Though Genevieve was curious about her friends and the sort of people they might be. She found it charming that she’d go as far as to see what someone else was wearing, whereas someone like Genevieve would have simply set the tone by telling others what they were allowed to wear, it was all about control. Rowen had the beginnings of a strong-willed nature, and with time, the woman was certain that the young girl would grow into herself and her habits just as quickly.

“Embarrass me?” she gestured toward herself, her fingertips gently pressed toward her chest as she laughed, a short, boisterous sound that echoed around the room and was enough to draw the glances of the other women in the room. It had been a rather dramatic gesticulation but extremely characteristic of the haughty witch’s intolerable behavior. “Oh you sweet little bird, I wouldn’t give anyone the power to cause me embarrassment, much less a teenage girl, but it is absolutely charming of you to think about these things, you’re rather thoughtful and I love that about you,” she expressed, there was a sort of maternal quality to the way she spoke, after all, she had not said it to chastise Rowen but rather to let her know that one day she, too, would grow into her own and become much like her. That was the goal, anyway.

Listening intently as she sipped on her tea Rowen agreed with Genevieve's assertion. It was not just because it was Genevieve asserting it, but because Rowen one-hundred percent chose a dress over a pair of slacks any day. With the only exception being Quidditch, the teenage witch wouldn't be caught dead in a pair of pants. At school, she was forced to wear her uniform skirts, which of course, made her like them less, but outside of school, her personal fashion choices weren't that far off from the uniform. Pleated skirts, silky blouses, little ties; Rowen had dark academia written all over her style. "I couldn't agree more," She added, but not before Genevieve asked for her opinion. Around her friends, the little witch was highly opinionated, but around Evie, she had learned not to offer more than was invited when it came to opinions.

However, her thoughts on Beatrice and the witch in her employ were fair game, and Rowen held nothing back. "I might like to try another dressmaker, actually," She said informatively, sticking her nose up as she set the glass back down with a soft clink. "Depending on how this dress turns out, of course," Rowen knew that Genevieve hired nothing but the best, but she was quickly learning not to say such things in front of the help. It would only make them think they were doing a good job, and Genevieve-logic told her if they thought they were appreciated, they would stop trying to work hard. That made sense, right?

Genevieve's laugh made Rowen nervous, but she was careful not to let it show. Worried she had overstepped, the teenager retraced what she had said but smiled in relief when her mentor began to speak. "Of course, thank you," Rowen smiled wickedly, "I am nothing if not thoughtful and kind," She agreed with the compliment in the way someone full of confidence and actions to back it up would. The little Queen-in-training nodded, verbally giving herself a pat on the back while simultaneously turning back to scold the dressmaker. The Ravenclaw was skilled at multitasking, after all.

"You are not going to hem it in gold, are you? I already told you, my jewelry is silver, and the lining absolutely has to be pewter gray," She huffed, she hadn't mentioned the jewelry, but it didn't matter. Crossing her arms across her chest Rowen glared at the seamstress.

Genevieve found the young girl’s exchange with the older woman, no matter how one-sided it obvious was, terribly entertaining. The girl was truly growing into her personality with time, and as a proud pseudo-mother to the girl who would have otherwise turned into a monotonous goody two shoes like her older brother, she was proud of how much she was starting to show how quickly she caught on.

This one will go far, she had told her husband time and time again who simply smiled at her endeavors and noted that the girl had no better teacher, something to which Genevieve readily agreed to. For a moment it even made her slightly excited at the prospect of raising a child of her own for if she could accomplish so much in a few short years with a girl that was not in her purview all of the time, how much greater would her accomplishments be with a young boy, heir to the world, and at her mercy twenty-four hours a day. It was all starting to sound very delightful, indeed.

“Oh yes, of course, and should Beatrice not be to your liking there are plenty of equally desperate and much more talented seamstresses out there waiting to service a Reinhardt,” she added with a small smile, hoping that the seamstress, too, was reminded that she was dispensable just like any other member of the staff in the room or in the entire house. Genevieve was simply doing the old woman a favor; it would do her well to remember her place and that her employment was dependent on the young woman’s whims should they not be met.
“You are quite thoughtful and kind, something that Beatrice would do well to take into consideration should she have thoughts of hemming anything in gold for your complexion, right, Beatrice?” she emphasized, her face losing that charming expression she often wore like expensive perfume as she contemplated the woman who simply mumbled a response and left.

“Effie could you call that designer in France that Augustus likes?” she asked as she shifted her position once more, “I don’t see why Rowen would not benefit from having two dresses she can choose from, I often do,” she reasoned. If Beatrice did a terrible job, it’d be no good having the little queen in tears. Though Genevieve knew someone who would be in tears and out of a job should she make a mistake. Effie simply nodded and left, leaving the two women to their own devices.

“You’re not nervous about bringing your friends around, are you? I suspect they’ve never attended an event of this caliber before. Horus will be here, of course, you must dance with him once, leave him charmed and never turn back again,” she advised.

Gold would not do, Rowen had already decided; she had picked out her shoes (not that her father knew how expensive they were yet), she had her eye on a certain pair of earrings that she knew was inside Genevieve's extensive jewelry armoire. If the trim were gold, it would just ruin the whole thing. Rowen would never be caught wearing silver accents with a golden hem, the horror. The young witch turned from her mentor to stare at Effie as she was told to fetch another designer, the smile broadening on her dark lips, and bounced a little in her seat. "Thank you, Genevieve," She returned with that same smile playing on her features. One day Rowen hoped to live the same way that Evie seemed to. Macaroons, as far as the eye could see, ridiculous amounts of possessions, and people caring for you every little thing. She just wanted to do a whole bunch more before she got settled in.

Though, the endless amounts of clothing and jewelry could come at any time.

"Not nervous, exactly," Rowen admitted with a hefty sigh, settling into her chair again and folding her hands in her lap. Sitting up straight, with her ankles to the side, she faced her hero and offered a slight smile. "I would not invite them if I thought they couldn't handle it; my friends are proper and appropriate," Rowen gave a firm nod, showing just how many nights she had spent thinking about such things. The young witch was heavily opinionated, she had been raised to be so, and it showed in everything that she did. The Ravenclaw would not have friends that were anything less than exactly as much as she demanded. And she could be very demanding. Thankfully, her friends were perfect; it was everyone else she worried about.

"I may spend half the party making sure they talk to only the right people though," Not that Genevieve would invite anyone that wasn't up to par, but it wasn't just up to the hostess who got to come. It was a Reinhardt party, and there were a few bad eggs in the mix; her older brother is one of them. "I believe Hyacinth has been around a lot of them before, but she is a Hufflepuff and entirely too kind," Rowen finished her tea, setting it on the saucer and looking around for someone to take the awful empty dirty dish away from her in a hurry, "We are working on that,"

She groaned loudly, "I will dance with him, but only once, and he doesn't get the last song," Rowen had to put her little foot down once and a while. "I've got a plan for all of that, anyway," It was all of fifteen minutes ago that they had started talking about it, but she had already figured out the first steps to take. Rowen moved to stand, straightening out her skirt, and then began venturing around the room slowly as she mused. "Horus is a pureblooded wizard from a rich family, but he is far from the only suitable suitor; I will be sure to present my parents with a far superior option," Rowen spoke softly as she inched closer and closer to the enchanted armoire that housed some of Genevieve's finest jewelry, her sneaky little eyes wanting to gaze on all of the shinies. Standing in front of it, she paused, spun around with a smile, loose curls falling over her shoulder, and shrugged her shoulders. "I only want the best, after all,"

"May I?" She asked, motioning to the armoire she assumed was locked with some anti-theft melt-off-your-face charms.

“Oh, of course, it was rude of me not to offer the choice from the very beginning, my apologies,” she smiled a little, nibbling into another macaroon as she spoke. Genevieve was not apologetic in the least, it was all polite speak, the idea had simply not crossed her mind until that very moment. However, she had no qualms about doing a favor for someone like Rowen from whom she’d surely get a variety of returns later. If anything, it was a curious thing to allow the young girl a glimpse into the options that her family’s wealth afforded her. Then again, Genevieve supposed that her life was not so easily attainable for someone that was unfortunately related to the black sheep in the family. “A proper lady is nothing without choice, and if both please you well, I don’t see why you couldn’t wear one before dinner, and one for dessert,” she offered.

She shifted in her chair, at her size now sitting on one side was much too unbearable for any long period of time and yet she wished for no one to witness her discomfort as it would surely be taken as a sign of weakness. “Yes well I shall be the judge of that,” she said rather arrogantly. Even if she trusted Rowen’s judgment, Genevieve also knew that at a place like Hogwarts, one often got the wrong idea of what proper and appropriate truly was. The young teenager lacked experience and therefore was not to blame for whatever poor souls she had taken in friendship as a means to be charitable, but Genevieve truly wondered if she actually understood what was expected of her friends and if those friends would live up to what she assumed to be very hefty expectations.

“The guest list is impeccable, I’ve reviewed it several times myself,” she noted, the tone of her voice slightly higher as if she felt that her choice was being questioned. Of course, Rowen knew better than to assume Genevieve would not only invite the right people to such an important event, but she was well into the third trimester of her pregnancy and feeling rather sensitive about many things. It had not helped that she and Wolfgang were not entirely as lovely as she often presented them to be. But that was a story for another time.

After taking another macaroon from the tray, she pushed it away as if it had offended her. “I’ve grown tired of macarons,” she said in Rowen’s direction, but it was fully intended for Effie to do away with the things at once and as she did, she also took Rowen’s dish in the process.

“Ah-“ Genevieve started with much amusement as she watched the girl begin to pace as if she had come into a very good idea. Her dedication to success pleased her so much so that she managed a small titter as the girl spoke, “I suppose that the key is to present this option without seeming too interested, your grandfather doesn’t seem very fond of personal matches, but I suspect only because he is being denied the option to choose,” she suggested. “However, he is quite taken with Wolfie, maybe if I were to whisper the name of a few boys you like in his ear, he’d take it up with your grandfather,” she offered, "I expect that you'd ask me first, or I will become very cross with you," she added as if it were expected. Genevieve knew that she would not have to try very hard for Wolfie to do as she asked, and if he made it difficult, she knew how to convince him.

“Take whatever you’d like,” she suggested, finally moving to her feet as she walked over with a little difficulty, retrieving her wand, she inserted the handle into the armoire and watched as one lock after another clicked open before the little box unfolded into a delightful sight of jewelry, most passed down for generations, for their viewing pleasure. “Well except my wedding rings, Wolfie won’t be pleased should he find you wearing them,” she pointed at the wedding bands as well as the ring he had proposed to her with, a lilac diamond. “Have anything in mind?” 

To Rowen, Genevieve was Judge, Jury, and Executioner. The whole night, and quite possibly the rest of Rowen’s life, could be made or decimated by a single wrong choice, and Genevieve would be quick to point it out. Rowen was careful, though, and she soaked up every single bit of advice the older witch had to offer. In some ways, Rowen had made herself in Evie’s image, and Merlin did she enjoy looking in the mirror. She offered a pleasant smile, without malice, and a silent nod. It was the end of the subject, and Rowen was skilled enough in conversation to know when was when. She had chosen her friends, made her point, and agreed that it would be up to Evie to render the final judgment. In truth, Rowen enjoyed the clarity of these moments.

Genevieve made it easy to know who to follow and how to behave. There were no questions about loyalty or morality, there was only Evie’s will, and Rowen agreed with it whole-heartedly. It was certainly easy to follow someone you believed in. Genevieve told her the guest list was impeccable, and of course, Rowen thought that too. She would expect nothing less. “Of course,” She nodded, being the closest thing to agree that the little dark witch was capable of, and rose from her seat. Someone carried away her dirty dish quickly, though; it could have been more efficiently done.

Rowen nodded as the macaroons were removed and began to explain parts of her plan for marriage to Genevieve. She would not marry someone she didn’t want to, even if she should, but Rowen knew this was not the time or the place for that war. Nor the person. Genevieve held a lot of sway in the family she’d married into, but it would be up to Rowen’s grandfather in the end. With careful guidance from her favorite cousin, Wolfgang, of course, and Rowen was betting on that. “You will be the first to know.” She offered, hands clasped neatly behind her back as she stood still. Rowen had no intention of begging and pleading with her grandfather.

Appealing to his sentimental side was out of the question as well; the head of the family would hate it, and Rowen lacked the skillset. No, she’d have to navigate this carefully. “I may have to look outside of Hogwarts, however.” And all of Great Britain, if she were, to be honest with herself. English wizards were dreadfully dull, and all of the genuinely monied ones were already paired off. “Germany, perhaps.” Rowen lifted her shoulders excitedly; her love of the language and her family’s Germanic roots was common knowledge. Crossing the room and heading for the armoire, Rowen was pleased when Evie granted her permission to take something for the party.

Not that she planned to return it unless asked.

As if commanded nonverbally by Genevieve’s will, the armoire opened and allowed Rowen to see more of its possessions. And she was instantly obsessed; every piece was gorgeous. Expertly crafted, ridiculously expensive, and Rowen coveted them all. She scanned them carefully until a pair of earrings caught her eye. The subtle blue and purple hew would work perfectly with her dress, enchanting but not taking away from her face. “These, please,” She held the pair up, and they dangled expensively from her fingertips. Nothing but the best. “They will go with my dress perfectly.” Rowen didn’t ask for Genevieve’s advice because on this, she already made up her mind, but Rowen did leave a space after for the approval she so desperately sought from Evie.