"See if it was good?" Draco cocked an eyebrow and pulled his desk chair up next to Greg's bed. "It's firewhiskey, isn't it? It all tastes like fire and cauldron rot." Which wasn't going to stop him, actually.
He took the bottle when it was held out to him, but the idea of drinking one after the other that way almost killed whatever it was in him that thought a drinking party might have been a good idea. He wiped the mouth of the bottle off with his sleeve, then took a drink himself.
It burned, and he almost hissed as it hit his throat, but he did take another before he held the bottle out to Theodore, hitting him in the leg with it. "What's been good about it?"