Over the course of five years, Harry had grown very accustomed to cool, Scottish nights. Summer with the Dursleys was already intolerable, but the heatwave passing through Little Whinging made it near unbearable. He had already written off pajamas and even in just a pair of boxers, he was felt like a car overheating. Lying on top of his bed, Harry reached down and slid his underwear down his body, letting them drop off his ankles. It didn't really help. It was still so bloody hot.

There was another problem now as well. Harry was a teenage boy with all the accompanying hormones that brought. As a shy boy, he tended to keep his clothes for as much as possible. He was the boy in the showers who waited for everyone else to leave before rushing in and showering as quickly as possible. This meant being naked, even in the privacy of his own cramped bedroom, was different. It was exciting. He could feel his cock stiffening, pointing up at the ceiling as if to say he definitely needed to have a look up there. Harry sighed. He wasn't going to get to sleep now. Instead, with a certain amount of shame boiling up inside him, he wrapped one hand around his length and used the other to pluck the letter he received today from the bedside cabinet.

It was Hermione, a comforting letter checking that he was okay and reassuring him they'd see each other soon. It was a kind letter, which for now, Harry didn't care about. Instead he turned to the photograph attached to it. Hermione had invested in a wizard camera and had taken it to the south of France on holiday with her. In Harry's mind, it may have been the best decision she had ever made. The photo wasn't inherently naughty. After all, one of her parents had probably taken it. It was of Hermione, laughing, by the water's edge of some French beach. She was wearing a modest, bright blue, two-piece bikini. It hung high on her hips, covering her entire backside, and the top hid all the skin of her breasts, pushing them up to flash cleavage rather than breast. And it drove Harry wild. He had never realized that Hermione had such a perfect, curvy body beneath her robes.

Pumping his cock, Harry felt arousal and shame bubbling away, as he stared at the photograph. He couldn't decide what he found more alluring. When Hermione was laughing at the camera, her face pretty and her breasts bouncing just a little, or when she turned to look out at the sea and her round, rear end was directed at the camera. Even when in jeans, it had somehow escaped Harry's notice how round and curvy his best friend's ass was. Either way, he jerked himself off, biting his lip as he stared back at his friend. He imagined her bikini slipping off, of them together, naked on the beach, doing all sort of things he only had the slightest idea of.

The Hermione in the photo then turned to look at him, eyebrow arched, a smirk on her lips. She put a hand on her hip and stared up at him, shaking her head. Harry's face went bright red. She knew what he was doing! Even though she was just a photo, it was nearly enough for Harry to throw the letter to the floor and cover his nakedness with his bedding. Before he could though, Hermione did something that he wouldn't have imagined in the wildest of his dreams that actual Hermione would ever do. A smirk on her face, she reached behind her back and unclasped her bikini top, letting the fabric drop to the floor. Her breasts bounced free. They were pale, milky white, and clearly did not spend time bare on a French beach. They were small and perky, and to Harry, they were the sexiest thing he had ever seen.

He stared, mouth open, as Hermione squeezed her own breasts for his pleasure, pulling faces of pleasure. Her eyes would close and she'd bite down on her bottom lip. Harry imagined he could hear breathy moans. It was so arousing that he couldn't even remember to stroke his own cock. His brain had fried and the Hermione in the photo clearly enjoyed the effect she was having on him. Her hands dropped down to her bottoms, untying the string as she turned on the spot, letting them join her top on the beach. Staring hungrily at the photo, Harry tried to get over the fact he was staring at Hermione Granger's thick, round ass. It was perfect, two firm globes. His hand started gliding up and down his shaft again.

Jerking himself off, Harry watched in awe as Hermione wiggled her backside for his viewing pleasure. She squeezed it and spanked it, and Harry groaned. He couldn't take this teasing for long. Hermione was watching him over her shoulder, which if anything made the scene more alluring, her hands groping her own backside. Then she bent over, reaching back to spread the soft cheeks of her glorious ass, and Harry could see all of her: her trimmed public hair, her netherlips and the tight, puckered entrance to her tightest hole. It was too much. He came with a groin, his seed splashing over his hand and stomach. He was too turned on to care about the mess.

Five minutes later, a messy pair of boxers in his washing basket, Harry was fast asleep on his bed. The heat had been forgotten about. He snored gently and dreamed of naughty things involving a bushy-haired witch and an empty French beach. The photo of Hermione and her letter laid on his bedside cabinet. She was laughing again, looking at the camera and then the sea as she had done before when Harry first received her letter. The only difference now was that she was naked, her bikini on the sandy beach.