Sometime later, when the sun had set and the insects had crawled out to serenade the rainforest with their night-time chorus, Harry lay on the bed in his and Draco's secluded holiday home, trailing his fingers slowly up and down his boyfriend's chest as the wisps of warm air occasionally drifted over his back, cooling the beaded sweat that sat on his skin.

Draco was reading one of his theoretical volumes with Harry contentedly snuggled up to his side, the lone bed sheet pooled around them for minimal modesty. Still, Harry had to marvel at the sight. Four months ago, he had struggled to get Draco to even take his shirt off when they were alone, and now here they sat, naked save the one cotton sheet draped over their more intimate parts, perfectly at ease.

"What?" Draco asked, peering down over his glasses. It was a funny reversal, that he should have put his reading specs on after Harry had thrown off his regular glasses when he'd hastily got rid of everything else he'd been wearing a couple of hours ago around about the time Draco had pounced on him.

Harry blinked at him. "Huh?"

Draco placed his bookmark in the tome and, along with his glasses, placed it on the bedside cabinet. "You looked pensive," he said, wriggling back down onto the pillows so he and Harry were lying side by side, and he rubbed his fingers along his arm. "What's on your mind?"

Harry wasn't sure he wanted to say, sometimes it was better to just leave things alone, but Draco was looking at him expectantly. "You just seem so happy," he said, hoping that was open-ended enough.

"Holidays do tend to do that to a person," he said with grin.

But Harry shook his head. "I guess," he said. "But I mean, in general, for the past few weeks. It's just lovely."

Draco considered him. "Well, I was quite surprised how happy I was to graduate, it feels like we're really moving forward now. To a new life, leaving the past behind."

Harry nodded. "I know what you mean," he agreed, running his fingertips gently along Draco's clavicles. "It feels hopeful, full of possibility." He let his fingers trail down his sternum, and he was rewarded by Draco biting his lip suggestively. "And, well, there's this. You seem so much more comfortable in your skin."

As soon as he said it, he wished he hadn't. Draco's features closed up and his body stiffened slightly under Harry's.

"No, no," Harry said hurriedly, pulling him back towards him. "I'm sorry, I didn't want to make a big deal of it. I shouldn't have mentioned it."

"It's okay," Draco mumbled, and Harry mentally kicked himself.

"I thought it was," he said quietly. "I thought you were happier?"

Draco sighed, and looked kindly down at Harry. "I was, I am I mean. I'm sorry." He planted a little kiss on Harry's forehead. "It's been a bit hard this week, but in general I am more accepting of...me," he finished. Harry worried he had probably mentally substituted the word 'me' for something derogatory like 'the fact I got fat' or something else hurtful.

"What do you mean 'this week'?" Harry asked, genuinely curious. Personally, he'd never seen Draco look more gorgeous. The climate had meant he had had to wear shorts and t-shirts, something he hadn't been persuaded to do back in England, and the sunshine had taken some of the deathly pallor from his skin. He was positively glowing after so many hours traipsing through heavy vegetation, his body invigorated by so much time outdoors. He had reminded Harry of the times they had played Quidditch when they were younger, but only much improved for not being at each other's throats.

Draco bit his lip and rolled his eyes, clearly uncomfortable. Harry was just about to say he didn't have to answer, when he spoke. "It's hard, being so hot."

"Yeah, but someone has to do it," Harry chimed in quickly, a cheeky grin on his face, pleased to make a joke and break the tension. Draco huffed and slapped his arm, but he was smiling too.

"No," he sighed though, not entirely cheered. "The heat makes it difficult, um, being bigger. My skin rubs in all kinds of places, and I, uh, well I'm generally stickier, it makes me feel pretty gross."

Harry suddenly realised Draco had been pretty obsessed with taking at least two or three showers a day, sometimes more, and his words made sense. "I don't think you're gross," he said in a small voice, shifting so he more cuddled even closer to make his point. "I've sweated buckets too, it's just a normal human thing to do?"

Draco shrugged. "But you look like you've just stepped out of some sort of sports magazine when you're dripping wet and shirtless," he said, not looking at Harry and going red. "I just look like a chubby mess."

Harry's heart sank as Draco stubbornly kept his eyes somewhere between the wooden wall and the ceiling and worried at his lip. "I don't care if I have to say this a million times," Harry said gently, lifting his hand to the side of Draco's face and encouraging him to look down at him. "I'll say it more, I'll say it forever. I think you are gorgeous. Draco," he said, and couldn't help the little laugh that escaped. "You've been driving me crazy. Couldn't you tell?"

Having their own private hut in the middle of nowhere had sent Harry's sex drive into overdrive. He must have catalogued every inch of Draco's body with his hands and his lips a hundred times over since they had arrived in Peru. But none of that mattered if Draco was still so unhappy with the way he looked.