It was one of those things that Harry felt he should stop, but he knew it was all too impossible, even for his influence.
So he had gone to a few parties, and got a little drunker than socially acceptable. He deserved it at those parties. The fame really was a little unnerving, and so he sometimes relaxed a little too much. It wasn't as if it had meant to get out of hand this way. Just a few people had taken advantage of a drunk Harry...well, maybe he came on to some some them.
It had started with one or two going to the papers. Then more. A lot more. Harry didn't think he had enough hours in the day to work through all the throngs of men and women that had claimed they had sex with him. But it didn't mean that George had to tell t-shirts proclaiming in large gold letters: I Slept with Harry Potter!
They were all over the place now. It was simple madness how many women-and men-he caught buying the shirts, even wearing them around in Diagon Alley.
It wasn't even that he slept around like that anymore. He was engaged, after all. But the masses keep going forward to the papers, and the rumors never stopped. It was a little frustrating, but then again it was his own bloody fault for behaving like a tart after the defeat of Lord Voldemort.
The worst part about this whole t-shirt thing was with his fiance. Harry had come home after a long day of internship at St Mungo's, expecting his fiance to be home with a mug of tea and maybe supper started. He had gotten the first as soon as he walked in, along with a little surprise: Draco was wearing the t-shirt with a baggy pair of Harry's jeans.
"Draco!" Harry exclaimed. "When did you...?"
"Just picked it up today. George was dying with laughter as he rung me out. Got one of those cute little Pygmy Puffs for Rose, too, a girl her age would like that sort of thing, right? She's what, five?" Draco said casually as he unfastened Harry's cloak, hanging it up on the rack by the door.
Harry nodded in confirmation as he stared at the shirt. It was definitely not Draco's style at all, a common t-shirt, not even designer, and hardly expensive enough to suit Draco's posh tastes. The screen-printed words shimmered in the light.
"You know I hate those shirts, right?" Harry asked Draco pointedly.
"But it was so true!" Draco exclaimed with a smirk, kissing his fiance. "I couldn't resist."
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Harry snaps out of the memory as he looks up at his fiance. The Healer's textbook that he was reading falls to the floor.
Draco was standing in the doorway to their bedroom, wearing the "I Slept with Harry Potter" shirt that he was so smug about.
And nothing else.
Harry licks his lips and Draco slowly walks over to their bed. His gaze never strays from the shirt. When Draco reaches the bed, Harry pounces. The only sounds in the room was of Harry's low moans and Draco's laughter.
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"Those shirts are bloody brilliant, George, keep up the good work," Harry says, clapping George on the back.
"Wait, what?" George asks confused. Harry only beams.