Another MrBenzedrine prompt-driven bit of fluff.
Prompt: I swear, if you don't shave off that beard, I'm going to set it on fire!"
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Draco is tossing his favorite Quidditch shin guards, deep eggplant with lavender stitching, in a rucksack when Hermione enters and stops short.
"Oh my God, it's still there."
He looks up and immediately knows where her stare has landed. He's not seen his girlfriend in a few days but still, she should have known it wouldn't have changed.
"I told you it would be. Until my streak ends, it stays."
"Draco, so help me... look. I'm trying to be reasonable about this. There is no earthly reason to keep it and you know it. Just... please... for me."
"Sorry, love," he shakes his head in disagreement. He hates disappointing her, really he does, but this is one of the most profound things that has ever happened to him. "I can't. Not until he beats me."
"Draco... Darling," she says with forced patience, "you winning has absolutely nothing to do with that. Do I need to stroke your ego? You're actually very good. There is no such thing as luck. Well, except in the liquid magic variety."
"Hermione... Sweetheart," he mocks back with affection, "you'll forgive me if I don't take stock in your opinions on the matter. You are decidedly incapable of having faith in the spiritual. In anything Divine."
"You are not beating Harry to the snitch because of Divine intervention. That's... well that's just stupid." She stomps her foot in protest of the assertion.
"Says you. But I've beat him three weeks in a row and I don't want to do anything to jinx it."
He watches her pinch the bridge of her nose, squeezes her eyes shut, and gulps three calming breaths. He grins a little, while she's not looking. Draco doesn't actually believe in fate quite the way he proclaims. But his theatrics do seem to unnerve Potter and Hermione's reaction is so fucking adorable he can't stand it.
"I swear," she starts slowly until the agitation builds, "If you don't shave off that beard, I will set it on fire!"
"No reason to be dramatic." He puts on airs with a long suffering sigh as he approaches her from across the room and places his hands on her arms. "I promise, win or lose, I'll shave it tonight. For you."
Hermione looks up, her eyes sparkling. "Promise?"
"Cross my heart, as the muggles say. I know you miss my boyish good looks. After this game, no matter the results, I swear on Slytherin himself I will shave it off."
She tips up on her toes and kisses him. Her physical gratitude is enough to be worth caving on this particular struggle. Pick-up games with Potter have become more frequent since they graduated, Draco finding that the stupid tosser is actually decent company. He's loathe to admit it to Hermione. After all, it earns him big points with his lover if she thinks he's doing it all for her.
"I love you, Draco."
"Love you too. Glad I could make you happy."
"You should be. I was about to stoop to something drastic. After all, I can easily meet you tit for tat. I'm not the only one that complains about stubble scratching against my mouth."
It takes him a second before the implication sets in. He nearly chokes when it does, grateful to have taken the need for that particular bit of retribution out of her hands.
A/N
I know, I know, I'm supposed to be editing Jack chapter 6. Blame MrB... again. Love to hear from you!