Archiving: just ask.
Date: February 2004.
Summary: Harry, Draco, chinese food.
Notes: For Minervacat, who asked for no angst.
The scuffling sounds attracted Malfoy immediately.
"That's not right, Ron, look."
"Harry, leave me alone, I think I've almost--"
"No, not like that, your finger's going to slip!"
"What do you mean, this is where you told me to put it!"
Blanching, Malfoy crept closer to the source of the murmurs, the room at the end of the hallway. Good god, he thought. They've even left the door wide open.
"You have to add your middle finger for leverage! You're never going to get anywhere with just one!"
"Harry, I'm telling you I'm fine!"
"Okay, but don't look at me when it misses your mouth."
"Well, well, well, Potter, I knew you were debauched, but this is really--" Malfoy began, launching himself around the doorframe at the same moment.
"Holy shit, Malfoy!" exclaimed the Weasel, whirling around.
Malfoy was a fraction late in ducking the huge mushroom that hit him in the nose.
He straightened up and licked his lips with some dignity while Weasley stared at him in astonishment and Potter doubled over laughing. "Tasty," he said after a moment. "Shanghai chicken?"
"Szechuan," wheezed Potter, who really had no need to be that out of breath.
"You're both arses," huffed Draco, loftily pulling his robes around himself.
"Maybe so," said Potter, finally straightening and giving him a grin. "Want some mai fun?"
Ignoring the strangled ejaculation coming from Weasley, Malfoy seated himself on the floor opposite Potter and helped himself to a rice ball.
Potter was still grinning at him.
Well, yes. Potter was a total arse. But now Draco had his own set of chopsticks.
Things were about to get interesting.