A/N: This is my go at using MrBenzedrine's Easter prompts: 'I swear, if you don't shave off that beard, I'm going to set it on fire.'

Warning: I've NEVER written from a prompt before. And I'm a tad nervous. Just so you know.

Context: post-Hogwarts, Dramione, bad language, no Voldemort, no bitter rivalries or arch-enemies.

The Leaky Cauldron, one night after work

'Hey Blaise,' Harry called across their table, ensconced in a snuggly corner of the pub. 'Bet you can't beat Ron in a game of wizard chess.'

Blaise threw a glance at Harry's smug mug, then over to his ginger mate, who was presiding over a pristine chess board and looking innocent.

Draco snorted into his Firewhiskey. 'Care to put your money where your mouth is, Potter?'

'What do you need my money for? It would be like Scrooge McDuck robbing a child of its pocket money.'

Draco, Blaise and Ron furrowed their brows. 'What's a Scrooge McDuck?' Ron asked.

Harry banged his head on the table a couple of times. 'Never mind.' To Draco, he said 'Fine. Bet's on, Croesus.'

Draco looked pleased. 'I know that reference.' He turned to Blaise. 'You're on, son. Don't fuck up.'

Blaise rolled his eyes. 'Oh, please.'

All four men expected a trouncing walkover, albeit at the hands of different players.

Yet four hours later, Ron and Blaise were still hard at it, neck-and-neck.

Harry was slumped in the corner, asleep, snoring softly, dribble escaping from his lips. Draco really wished he had borrowed Hermione's Smart Fone so he could take a photo of this epic portrait. Aside from that, the novelty of sitting at this table had worn off long ago, much like any feeling he had in his shapely bum.

He stood and stretched, yawning like a lion. 'I'm off, Blaise,' he mumbled, shrugging into his coat. 'If I stay any longer, I'll be sleeping on the couch.'

Blaise didn't lift his head up from the board. 'Uh-huh.'

'See you, Weasley.'

Ron didn't move his eyes from the board. 'Uh-huh.'

Draco leaned over the table and gave Harry a friendly shove.

'Argh!' Harry sat bolt upright. 'I'm not sleeping, honey, I'm just resting my eyes!'

Draco burst out laughing. 'Good night, dearest,' he cackled, blowing Harry a kiss. 'I'll be merciful when I come to collect my winnings.'

'Ass,' grumbled Harry, then looked at his watch. 'Shit! I've gotta go!'

Draco apparated to the home he shared with his girlfriend, Hermione. He found her curled up on the settee, nose-deep in a book, looking like a beautiful, bookwormish angel. Crookshanks was snoring at her feet.

Draco kissed her gently on top of her head. 'Sorry I'm late, love. Ron and Blaise were playing a chess game and time got away on us.'

She smirked. 'Blaise will lose.'

Draco paused in the middle of taking his coat off. Since he had now learned by painful experience that not listening to Hermione usually resulted in something bad happening, he faltered. 'You think so?' he said doubtfully.

Hermione put her book away, got up from the settee and switched off the reading light. 'I know so.'

'Crap.' Draco hated losing. 'Why are you never around when I do silly things like make bets?'

She laughed; a low, sexy laugh that Draco's interest rising. 'At home, patiently waiting for you to make love to me?'

He grinned and drew her into his arms. 'Are you done with being patient?' he asked, drawing his lips down her neck and kissing her pulse.

'Oh, yes,' she breathed, undoing his tie.

'Good. I've never been known for my patience,' he smirked. He scooped her up and carried her to their bedroom.

It was late. Not that Draco cared about his job, since he owned the company, but Hermione had to get up at an indecent hour to lawyer away her existence in a pro bono dump of a flea-bitten tenement, where she endlessly represented the poor, the downtrodden, and the often smelly.

So, no swinging from the chandeliers tonight. Instead, Draco slowly entered the woman he loved, loving how her body rose to meet his, how she tossed her head back and exposed her throat to him on his initial thrust. He moved languidly inside her, looking into her eyes, lowering them only to kiss her beautiful lips.

He could tell from the slightest hitch in her breath that she was on the path towards release. He sped up, whispering into her ear how she made him feel, what he wanted to do with her. She begged him to touch her, and he did, moving his fingers over her clitoris – and capturing her cry of release with his mouth.

Then he gave in to his body.

Giving thanks that she chose him.

Next day, Draco's office

Draco's jaw dropped. 'You what?'

Blaise rolled his eyes. 'Lost, Draco. I lost.'

'But you were the best chess player Slytherin's ever seen!'

'Yeah. And Ron's the best chess player Hogwarts has ever seen.'

'Merlin's marbles. I'm going to have to pay the smug wanker.' He contacted his secretary. 'Colleen, can you book my diary out for half an hour, starting now? I need to sulk.'

'Certainly, Mr Malfoy.'

'I'll leave you to it, then,' said Blaise, hopping up and heading to the door. 'See you in the pub after work?'

'You'd better believe it! Oh. After I check with Hermione.'

Blaise smiled to himself. Somewhere along the way, we got thoroughly pussywhipped by our girlfriends, he thought. And it happened so subtly that I can't even begin to figure out when it started.

Which reminded him. He'd better check with his girlfriend, Pansy.

That evening, the Leaky Cauldron

'I can't believe you're trying to welsh out of paying a bet! I tell you, Ron,' Harry teased, 'now I know how the rich get richer. They don't part with any of their money!'

Harry and Ron fell about laughing.

Draco looked at Blaise and rolled his eyes. 'Remind me why we hang out with these idiots.'

'For the entertainment value.'

'Ah, right.' To Harry, Draco said 'Look, I'm good for it. You know I am. I just thought you might be interested in making it best two out of three.'

'Three chess games?'

'Merlin, no,' Draco shuddered. 'I thought we'd try a different activity each round.'

Ron and Harry leaned forward. So did Blaise, who had no idea what his mercurial friend had in his head at the best of times. 'What did you have in mind?' asked Ron.

'For round two, I propose a broom race.'

Aha! Draco didn't miss the glint in Harry's eye. 'When and where?' Harry asked.

'No time like the present.'

'Now? But we've been drinking.'

Draco leaned into Harry's space, smirking. 'Scared, Potter?'

Harry snorted.

'All right, then. Twice up and down the length of Diagon Alley. How does that sound?'

'Fine.'

'Fine.'

'Fine.'

Well, then ladies?' Draco smirked. 'On your brooms!'

Everyone sculled the rest of their Firewhiskeys and hurtled out the door.

Later...

'Oh, my gods!' shrieked Hermione. 'What on earth happened to you?'

Draco propped himself up against the bedroom doorway. 'Um, I fell off my broom.'

Hermione hopped out of bed and approached her boyfriend with caution. 'So, you're just covered in mud, then?' she asked. 'You're not injured?'

Draco looked down at himself. Luckily he had more suits than he knew what to do with, because he was pretty sure this one was buggered beyond redemption. 'Well, there might be a few bruises, and some scrapes under the mud,' he said vaguely.

'What were you doing on a broom in the first place?' demanded Hermione. 'You apparate everywhere. Or Floo if you're desperate enough to risk getting soot on your clothes.'

Draco dragged himself to the bathroom. 'The boys and I had a bet,' he began.

'Oh, gods, another bet,' muttered Hermione, running the bath.

Draco slowly unburdened himself of his swamp monster costume. 'We flew twice around Diagon Alley. It was pretty even for most of the race, so it became a bit of a scrum for the finish line.'

Hermione looked over her shoulder. 'Did someone push you off your broom so they could get ahead?' she asked hotly.

Nude, but muddy, Draco eased himself into the hot bath, wincing when the water enveloped his lumps and bumps. 'Sort of...'

Hermione was baffled. 'What does that mean?'

'Everyone tried to shove each other off our brooms so we all fell off.'

He thought he heard Hermione mutter 'God grant me the patience not to slap the shit out of every one of them,' but that didn't make sense. Why would his darling Hermione want to slap him?

He submerged himself under the water, and surfaced to find it significantly browner than it was before. Hmph. Must have collected a ton of mud in his hair. 'But that's not important, darling,' he called out. 'I won!'

Silence. She must have gone into the bedroom.

After soaking in diluted mud and letting his imagination go a little nuts with visions of Caesarean laurel wreaths being placed upon his golden head, Hermione appeared at the side of the bath again. 'So, is this the last of the bets, then?'

Draco sat up. 'Not yet, my dulcet dove,' he smirked. 'It's best two out of three, and Gryffindor and Slytherin are equal. The next bet's the decider!' Then he frowned. 'Except I don't know what we should do for the final bet.'

'Don't the others have any ideas?'

Draco looked at her.

'Ah. Sorry. Anyway,' Hermione said, pulling the plug out of the bath, 'you're not going to get any cleaner in there. Into the shower you go.'

He took her hand and hoisted himself out of the bath. 'I love it when you get all bossy.'

'I'm always bossy. It drove you mental in school.'

'Yeah, but now it makes me hot.'

Hermione turned the shower on and beckoned him. 'In you get, Casanova.'

He strutted past her, showing himself off to his fullest, if tide-marked advantage.

She started laughing. Gods, she loved him so.

As he lathered up, she removed her night attire and stepped in behind him.

He turned and kissed her leisurely. 'I knew you'd come crawling,' he smirked.

She slapped his bum.

'Oh, is that how you want it?'

Still later…

'Hermione?'

She snuffled and turned over in their bed to cuddle up closer to Draco. 'Hmm?'

'Do you have any ideas for a third bet?'

Out of his line of sight, she rolled her eyes. 'Why don't you all get your penises out and see whose is the largest?'

'Hmm. That's not bad…'

'What if you're not the biggest?'

Draco snorted. 'Darling, please.'

Hermione looked at him and smirked. 'You do recall that I know what Ron's penis looks like, right?'

Draco contemplated that statement. 'No. Surely not,' he laughed.

Silence.

'Hermione?'

Shit. She'd gone to sleep.

Hermione allowed herself a tiny smirk. Too easy, she thought.

Draco stared at the ceiling for a jolly long time.