This is a reminder that I do not own any of the characters portrayed in this story, though their actions and thoughts have been modified. Enjoy!

By the by, this story may contain mild to strong sexual content that may be unsuitable for readers under the legal age.

Harry Potter: The Instinct

He had this urge. It wasn't like other urges. This urge was odd, almost primal. What am I supposed to do?

Harry Potter wasn't like other teen boys his age. Oh sure he was average height, typical complexion, and terrible vision. But he was a wizard. He had found out a full month ago, yet he was still trying to come to grips with the fact that he had abilities incomprehensible to the normal human being (What was it Hagrid had called them? Muggles?).

"This is crazy!"

"Whoa, buddy!"

Harry's head perked up. He had just noticed his surroundings. He was standing on an enormous railway platform, complete with a beautifully finished steam engine train.

"What the fizzle…? Where's the station…? How the…?"

Fizzle. Harry had promised himself that he wouldn't repeat this disturbing word. However, he had to rack his brain these days to remember anything about his previous life. This was the word Dudley had been saying in response to just about anything for about 5 months. Apparently some famous person had made it famous, and Dudley was the sort of person who jumped on any bandwagon no matter how stupid it looked.

It seemed, however, that fizzle might not have been as stupid a thing to say at this time, what with the disappearance of the Houston train station.

Wait a minute… An entire train plaza has just disappeared, and now I'm suddenly standing on an outdoor platform. What the fizzle…

"Stop talking stupid! You're new at this!"

A young boy, around his age, had stopped next to him. He had violently red hair, an infinite number of freckles, and, well, nothing much else to note.

"C'mon! The train's about to leave."

Bewildered, but with no other choice, he relented and boarded the train.

Harry Potter and Ron Weasley found a compartment to themselves and placed their belongings in the overhead compartment. They chatted for awhile about their lives, families, and histories. Ron nearly fell over in surprise when Harry told him who he was, but Harry found Ron's life story just as interesting. He felt oddly comfortable with Ron; the two seemed to complement each other in some mysterious, unclear way, but they both found each other's company to be immensely enjoyable.

The real highlight to Harry's trip came around 5:00 PM, when the compartment door slid open, and a tall girl walked in. She was their age, had brown, bushy hair, and was dressed in a red t-shirt and blue jeans. Harry felt it almost immediately; his throat had gone dry, and his eyes were drawn to this girl. He couldn't stop staring. He couldn't stop staring. He couldn't stop staring.

"Um, hi," she said, looking curiously at Harry.

"Dude," hissed Ron, stepping on Harry's foot.

Harry jerked his eyes off of the girl, rather awkwardly, but he was still dazed.

"I'm Hermione, and I was wondering what you two knew about this sorting that were supposed to go through. I heard that it was some sort of painful test, but someone else said it was a written exam. I'm really worried. I mean, I've learned like, every spell in the introductory chapters. Do you think that will help? Do you guys know anything about it?"

Still bemused, Harry's eyes returned to this girl, Hermione. Ron, however, merely shook his head, with a soft "no."

"C'mon," he said. "The train's almost there."

---

Harry climbed the staircase to his dormitory, his head swirling with all that ha happened. He actually felt as though he was shaking as he extended his hand to the door and pulled it open, hoping to get some much-needed rest. However, he found that he wasn't the only one in the room.

Hermione, from the train, was sitting on the dour poster bed closest to the window.

"Hi," she said for the second time that night, still with that curious tone. "I guess we're roomates."

"…um…," Harry managed. "…right…great."

He didn't know why, but he was rejoicing at this news; he couldn't, however, articulate this sensation verbally.

"I'm really tired," she said. "Should we get changed and get to sleep?"

And before Harry could say or do anything, Hermione reached to her waist and pulled her shirt over her head. What lay below surprised Harry out of his wits. Hermione had small breasts, held up by a white, bra. He couldn't stop staring at them. He couldn't stop staring at them. He couldn't stop staring at them.

Reaching to her waist again, she undid the button of her jeans and pulled them down to her feet, stepping out of them. She had a panties matching her bra.

"It's kind of warm in here. Do we even need clothes to sleep in?"

Reaching behind her, she performed some sort of unclipping motion and released her bra; it fell to the floor, exposing her breasts. They were the most beautiful things he had ever seen. They were small, round, with small, pink nipples at their center. And to finish off her performance, she reached once more to her waist and pulled her underwear to her feet.

Harry had never seen the female body before, locked away in the Dursleys' closet; why was he so mesmerized by it?

Hermione in all her glory walked slowly over to Harry and pressed herself against him, reaching around his neck.

"Are you tired?"

---

Harry woke with a start, sweat pouring from places he didn't even know existed, stupefied by what he had just experienced.