Opposite
Disclaimer: Yeah . . I don't own JK Rowling.
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His smile made her melt like a candle, his rugged hands made her heart fly, his husky voice made her want to sing. The way he was looking at her right now made her want to shag him.
The air in the Burrow was sticky and made her hair stick to the back of her neck. The ginger haired girl was clad in lime green boxers and a white ribbed tank top. A carton of mint ice cream sat in her lap as she read the comics from the issue of The Quibbler. A scruffy looking man sat opposite of her, enjoying his coffee and Daily Prophet. The freckle faced girl looked at him, studying the way his face was formed.
He looked up at her, saw her looking at him. Reaching across the coffee table he lifted her chin, winked and got up to get more substance in his white mug. Yeah, he wants me.