Reginald wasn’t sure if he was cursed or if he had just plain bad luck, but sometimes things just didn’t go right. He’d jumped at the opportunity to attend a ball in Italy simply because he could — he loved London, especially now that he got to see Felix’s face every day, but sometimes it was nice to be somewhere new. Plus Sabine was one of his best friends and he couldn’t not go to support her in her time of need, and now he had ammunition to poke at her when she was being particularly teasing toward him; with a quick look around, Reginald quickly decided he hadn’t seen her in quite some time, although his dear friend was probably hiding out somewhere. Maybe he’d have to find her.

So before deciding to put his names on some dance cards (the worst part of a ball because his tail was still tucked between his legs from being rejected for a dance at the beginning of the year), Reg took a glass of champagne off a tray to set off to explore the gardens. Of course, luck was never quite on his side nowadays, and as soon as he stepped away from the table a pesky fairy came barreling in from an opened door near the balcony, knocking over the entire champagne tower. Glass and liquid shattered across the ground, making a few people yelp and skitter back, Reg included. The last thing he wanted was for sopping wet shoes on the dance floor. But of course he was trying to be a gentleman while did so, so his hand wrapped around the arm of the nearest person to tug her back, too. His feet squelched against the wet floor as he turned toward his companion — Reg could’ve crawled into a hole and died right then and there as looked toward the lovely Miss Malfoy.

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