A/N: This is just a oneshot I decided to work on to get back into the swing of things with Harriet/George (they need a ship name) after writing so much Jily. It started off as one thing, and then ended up as smut.

So sorry? Not Sorry?

I'm going to work on either Straight and Narrow or LIAF next. Not sure which one. If anyone is dying for an update from one in particular, let me know!

Please review!

Extraordinary

It's an ordinary day for George Weasley.

That is, if you consider landing your brother in the hospital with third degree burns from a failed experiment for the shop ordinary.

And he does.

This happens at least a couple times a month, and not always to Fred. Sometimes George gets hurt as well. But today, apparently, it is Fred's turn.

Fred has been admitted, and is currently being tended to by nurse McKinnon ( and by this point Fred and George knew all the nurses and doctors by name), and George is sitting in the waiting room - waiting.

He's sipping a Coke that he just purchased from a vending machine when in walks a raven-haired girl, and George knows that it's not going to be just an ordinary day.

Because that girl looks extraordinary.

He's watching her, trying to figure out what to say to such an extraordinary girl, when she walks up to the vending machine, inserts some coins, and then groans.

"Fuck me," she moans.

She throws her head back as she says it, and George thinks he's in love.

And…

And…

"I'll have to take you to dinner first, and then we'll see."

Fucking hell. Those should not have been the first words out of his mouth to this girl. She turns to face him, and he's staring back, completely mortified, when she starts to laugh. And it's such a beautiful sound that he's willing to make an arse out of himself again just to hear it.

"You're funny," she says, and her voice is just as lovely even when it's not moaning. Though, he'd like to hear that sound again. Her eyes dart to the cola in his hands and narrow. "Did you happen to get that out of this vending machine?"

George's eyes drop down to the offending can. "Um, yeah."

"Well then," she says. "It looks as though you're going to have to take me to dinner after all. Seeing as you're the reason I'm going through a caffeine withdrawal."

"Don't like coffee then?" Don't ask her that, you dolt! You're getting a chance to take her out, and you're going to screw it up! "I mean- I don't - I don't like coffee."

"Hate coffee," she says and her nose wrinkles. "Fucking bean water."

And, fuck, she's adorable.

"Let's go then," says George, throwing a perfectly full can of Coke in the trash.

Fred was livid when George text him that their mother was going to be the one picking him up. Which is precisely why he sent him such information in a text instead of popping into see him.

Fred: What do you mean you met a girl? Who meets a fucking bird in the hospital?

Fred: Hello?

Fred: Get back here you traitor! Don't leave me with mum!

George smirks, pocketing his phone after turning it off, and opens the door of the restaurant for the girl. She's chosen a pizza place, and it's dark and not too crowded when they enter.

"You know," she says as they're standing in line to order, "I still don't know your name. The only thing I do know about you is that, by either some misfortune or happy accident, you stole the last Coke out of the vending machine, and I have such an addiction that I'm willing to let you take me out."

"George Weasley," he says. He offers her his hand, and then decides at the last moment to raise it to his lips, and it's worth it when he sees the blush tint her cheeks. "And trust me, it's happy accident."

"Harriet," she says. Her cheeks are still pink, but the way she smirks at him is smug. "Harriet Potter, but my friends call me Harry."

"And what are we?"

"Oh, we are most certainly not going to be friends, George Weasley."

And the way she says it, and bites her lower lip sends shivers down his spine.

Fucking hell, if he's not going to make her bite her lower lip again later. He might even bite it himself.

They order a large pizza and two drinks, and George thinks he's absolutely smitten what with the way she's staring at him coyly as she drinks her soda through the straw slowly. He's never been happier to put his brother in the hospital with third degree burns, and he's going to tell Fred to mention that in his best man's speech at their wedding.

"What were you doing at the hospital anyway, George Weasley?" She leans back in her booth, and arches one eyebrow up at him. "I like your name. The whole thing. I think I'm going to keep calling you George Weasley."

"I put my brother in the hospital with third degree burns after a failed experiment," he says. And it's a rather lame description, and makes him sound careless, but he can barely process a thought at the moment. "I rather like the sound of my name coming out of your mouth."

"Well, then. I guess you'd better get used to me saying it, George Weasley. I might even shout it later, if you'd like."

His jaw drops, and his eyes go wide, and hell, he's not leaving this restaurant without this girl.

"Failed experiment, eh?" she asks. She smirks at him as though she knows she's cost him the ability to speak. "What are you? Some sort of mad scientist?"

George grins. He's still capable of that it seems. And after a while, his mouth isn't so dry so he's able to speak.

"Not quite," he says. His voice is hoarse, as though it has gotten stuck. "My brother and I own a joke shop in downtown London, and we were testing a product and it kind of just blew up."

"You're kidding me," she practically squeals. "You? You own Wheezes? Oh my god, your name is Weasley! Of course you do!"

"You know our shop?"

"Yes! My dad goes there quite a bit actually. He's a police detective-"

"Shite! James Potter? James Potter is your dad?"

"Yes! You know him?"

Of course George knows him. James Potter is one of his favorite customers, and they trade prank ideas whenever he comes into George's shop. He's used several of James' ideas on Percy. And now George has gone and fallen in love with the bloke's daughter, and he's certain that James will kill him the moment he finds out. He's quite fit you see, and so is his partner who has mentioned quite a few times that James' daughter, his goddaughter, is the light of his life.

"Sirius Black wouldn't also happen to be your godfather, would he?"

"Yes! He is," she's bouncing in her seat with excitement. "I can't believe this."

I'm going to die, George thinks to himself. But god is it going to be worth it.

"I can't believe I've never seen you before," says George. "Have you never been to the shop yourself?"

"Oh no," she laughs. "I'm mostly too busy with school to do much of anything, but dad also said I'm not allowed in there, you see. He said there's a trouble maker that works there who is just my type."

"Did he now?" George is intrigued. He's considering if James will beat the shite out of him if he asks for his daughter's hand in marriage on Monday when he stops by on his lunch break. "And do you agree? Is he your type?"

"Hmmm," she hums as though she's considering the question. "I'd say he is. Is your flat just above your shop then?"

"It is."

"Hold on then," she says. She pulls out a cell phone, and wrinkles her nose as she scrolls through it, before holding it up to her ear. "Remus," she says into the phone after a moment. "I need you to pick up Nanna for me from the hospital. Why?" She looks George in the eyes before answering. "Because I'm about to shag this fit bloke I just met, and I don't think it's going to be rather quick."

George has died. He's died, and gone to heaven, and he's about to shag that angel that guards the gates.

"I'm being perfectly serious," she continues while George is fighting an erection,"and you know how I know you're going to do it? Because I've been reading your text messages, and I know exactly what you and Sirius have been up to Uncle Remus. I also know for a fact that my father doesn't know- hmm, hang on and I'll ask."

She rolls her eyes, before holding the phone away from her ear just slightly. "He wants to know if you plan on killing me."

George grins. "Never."

"He says after we shag," she holds the phone away again, and George hears muffled shouting on the other line. "I'm kidding, Remus. Jesus Christ. Look, I'll send you a picture of me post shag so you know I'm alive - yes, of course with clothes on. I'll Snapchat you. What do you mean, 'what if Sirius finds out?' I'm twenty, Remus. Not a nun. He's got to have figured out I'm sexually active by this point. Look, Remus, Uncle Moony, it's the guy from the joke shop - yes, that guy. I met him at the hospital so you'll know where to find me if something happens. Okay?"

She's silent for a moment, and looks across the table at George and crosses her eyes.

"Thank you, Remus," she says, after she's done listening to what George's is certain was a lecture. "Yes, yes. I love you too. Thank you!"

"Everything good?" asks George.

"Box up this pizza for later, and it will be."

"Off," she orders, tugging at his shirt. She's bossy, commanding, totally in control. And he loves it. "Off now."

He's backed her - slammed her, really- into the door of his flat, and it's not even open yet. He tugs his shirt over his head, and he watches as her eyes widen, and she makes a sound akin to a purr of a cat.

"Fuck," she breathes. "You're fit."

And then their lips clash, he's lifting her up off the ground, and her legs wrap around his waist. Her fingers brush the back of his head, threading themselves into his hair, and it's so tender in the middle of such passion that he thinks he might melt.

His hands fumble to find the keys, and once he locates them, they struggle to unlock the door; and then they're fumbling through the door so quickly that they nearly topple over. And slamming her into the door of his flat was such an inspiration that he presses her against the nearest wall. Her legs disentangle themselves from him, and he turns her roughly to unzip her dress, watching it hit the ground.

And, fuck, is that black lace?

She's incredibly fit herself, - he suspects she must have played some type of sport - but his mouth has gone too dry to tell her so. She smirks at him, as though she knows, and his thumb that has moved to trace her lower lip finds its way into her mouth, and she's sucking it slowly while making eye contact with him and-

"Bed, now." There's his voice. Except he's never heard it quite so husky.

"Lead the way," she grins, tugging on the belt of his jeans (that she had undone at some point without him noticing) and pulling it off.

He lifts her, carrying her bridal style, to his bedroom, and he's trying not to let his eyes roll all the way back in his head what with the way she's nipping at his pulse point and making it beat all the more rapidly.

He lays her on the bed, fulling intending to discard of his jeans himself, when she sits herself up and undoes the button herself, pulling his trousers down until they're puddle on the floor around his ankles.

And…

And…

Her mouth is on him. And she's sucking, and running her hand up and down his length, and he thinks he may cum right there.

"Fuck," he hisses. One of his hands grips her hair, moving with her as her head bobs up and down, trying to be careful not to push her too far down. "God - keep doing that!"

And then she moves too far down, except she's not gagging, and he feels as though his knees are going to give out when she suddenly stops. And it's probably a good thing that she stopped, because he wasn't going to be able to hold out too much longer if she kept that up, but he's also reeling from the lost sensation.

"What the- " He's sputtering. She's busted his brain. "How in the world-"

"I don't have a gag reflex," she grins up at him.

He blinks down at her. Completely dumbfounded. And then he notices she's far to clothed in her black laced bra and knickers. He moves over top of her, wrapping an arm around her waist, and pulling her up the bed, unhooking her bra with one hand, and tossing it on the floor.

"God, you're gorgeous," he says, lifting himself up slightly to take her in. "Fucking gorgeous."

He's kissing her, slowly and tenderly, attempting to drink her all in, his hands moving down to grab one of her breasts softly at first, and then her hand joins his, lays over top of his, and moves it so he's grabbing her more roughly.

And…

"Fuck," she whines as his mouth moves from hers to latch itself to her breast. He's sucking, her back is arching up off the bed, and she's tugging on the hair at the back of his head. His fingers find their way into her knickers, and then one, two, move inside of her, and she's so fucking wet already. "Fucking hell- George!"

"Remember, love," he says, lifting his head so that his lips are hovering just over hers. "You promised to shout it."

He kisses her, and she whimpers into it. And she's so raw, so exposed, so fucking beautiful.

He kisses down her neck, stopping to bite at the place just below her ear, and enjoying the way she squirms from underneath him. He moves down her collarbone, to the valley between her breasts, down her stomach, dipping his tongue in her belly button, and then his teeth latch onto her knickers, pulling them downwards.

He had thought, when she was bossing him to take off his shirt earlier, that she was the one in control. But now she's underneath him, whining, so submissive. And, fuck, he likes her this way too.

All his.

She looks up at him, grinning, and biting her lower lip. One of her legs hitches itself around his waist, he wraps his hand around it, pushing it forward, and does what he promised himself he would do easier.

He takes her bottom lip between his teeth.

And then he takes other things from her too.

George wakes up the next morning, head swimming, and thoroughly entangled with something- someone. He blinks, seeing Harriet cuddled next to him, and decides not to wake her just yet.

She looks too beautiful, too peaceful to wake.

Last night come back to him. They had fucked once, and made love once.

And if she lets him, he'll gladly take another Coke from her so he'll be able to do it again. He'll blow up the goddamn Coke manufacturing plants if it means she'll be his for the rest of his life.

"Well," a voice says from the doorway. George lifts his head to see Fred standing there. His arm bandaged, and both arms crossed as he leans against the door frame. "I hope it was worth it, you fucking traitor."

"Trust me," says George, tossing a pillow which misses Fred by an embarrassing degree. "It was worth it."

"Just so you know, mum made me spend the night with her, and then she spent the whole time bitching-" His eyes go wide suddenly as he looks at Harriet's sleeping form fully, and George raises an eyebrow at him. "Holy shite! Is that James Potter's daughter? In your bed? You slept with Potter's daughter?"

"Yep," grins George. He knows he'll probably be a bit more frightened later at the thought of James finding out, but right now he's still off a high. "I'm going to do it again too. At some point."

"He's going to kill you, mate," says Fred, shaking his head. "Fucking murder you."

But George thinks it's worth it.

Because she's the most extraordinary girl he's ever met.