Hogwarts parties were nothing short from common. These hosted an inevitable mingling of houses in common rooms they—according to the rules of the castle— should never have entered. The reason of these could vary; from a quidditch victory, to a mere desire to escape the structured student life.

Reginald was not one to attend such reunions so often. Why would he want to spend hours with immature adolescents, cramped in a room reeking of alcohol and with terrible music playing? He was Regiland Barnes, for Merlin’s sake. He was the heir of the house of Barnes. He had better things to do on a Saturday night.

Even in the rare occasions where he did attend, he was far from indulging in the self-destructive habit of drinking alcohol before an age where he could assure his prefrontal cortex was fully developed. The same went for you; opting for a chat with Reginald, and sometimes other students.

Despite this, tonight’s curse of events had gone a tad different from the usual party nights. After being dared by a friend, you had drank more firewhiskey than what is recommended; leaving Reginald with a tipsy partner.

Reginald's arm was around your back as he helped you walk to your dorm. “I seriously cannot believe you were this imprudent.” A huff rose from his lips as he pushed his inky curls into place again. “I will take you to your dorm and then brew you something… cannot have you missing classes tomorrow just because you’re unable to stand up from the headache.” A small part of him was even worried, perhaps, hidden between all that—most likely— feigned annoyance.