"You little snitch!" Harry exclaimed when he had caught up to Draco at the Shrieking Shack. "You knew damn well I'd never had those before! I can't believe you let me eat those!"

"How was I supposed to know you'd never had them?" Draco asked, trying to feign innocence. Harry rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, you would've known eight about the point when I stupidly said, 'That chicken is orange.'" Draco grinned.

"Well, you could just be stupid." Harry growled at him, then tackled the pale, laughing boy.

"Who're you callin' stupid?" he growled, sitting heavily on Draco's stomach and pressing him back against the snow.

"I believe it was yo—ACK!" He interrupted himself with a shriek. Harry stared. He barely brushed his hand against Draco's waist, experimentally. Draco stifled—not-so-successfully—a giggle. Harry gave a slight prodded. Draco let out a squeak.

Harry grinned maliciously, and surveyed Draco, his arms folded. Neither said a word, and Draco was silently praying that Harry was feeling rather dim-wit—

"AH! CheatercheaterCHEATER!" Draco squealed, squirming as Harry tickled him, relentlessly.

"Aw, is ickle Draykie-poo ticklish?" Harry cooed, adding salt to the wound.

"NO! Don't! Potter, you're going to be in so much—"

"So much what?" Harry quipped, prodding a rather sensitive spot near his belly button.

"—so much friggin' TROUBLE!" Harry was laughing to the point of hyperventilation when Draco managed to shove him off. The positions were switched, and Draco grinned evilly. Harry smiled back at him, unperturbed.

"That was SO funny!" he said, grinning. Draco glared at him.

"Let's see how funny it is when you're the victim!" Harry grinned, knowingly.

"I'm not ticklish." Draco faltered.

"What?"

"I'm not ticklish," Harry repeated. Draco prodded him uncertainly. No reaction.

"Damn it, Potter!" he exclaimed. He folded his arms and stuck out his lower lip in a pout. "That's really unfair," he whined, looking quite adorable.

Adorable? Harry thought, mildly. Where did that come from?

"Come on. Let's go to Honeydukes. No, wait," he amended, as his stomach grumbled, "let's go back to Twinship. I'm still hungry."

Draco grinned. "The look of shock on your face when you took a bite shall remain forever emblazoned in my memory, Potter," he said, wistfully reminiscing.

"Shut up," Harry growled, pushing the Slytherin off. "Let's go." Draco stood up and slowly brushed off the snow that covered his clothes—slowly, so as to annoy Harry—before following him to get food.

"What'll it be, boys?" Rigel asked. Wait, is it Rio? Harry mused. The woman sported an Irish accent, but Rio works at that shop…

"A cheeseburger for Mr. Potter, and some hot wings," Draco ordered, smirking at Harry.

"Hot? You mean those weren't hot enough?"" Harry asked incredulously. Draco grinned.

"Nope. You only had the mild wings." Harry glowered at him.

"Shut up."