I like all things red.

I like my Gryffindor Quidditch robes, soaked with sweat, after another glorious Saturday morning victory.

I like that red flash of light that has saved my skin a hundred times over.

I like the red air of a late summer's sunset – dusty and sultry with the hint of midnight adventure…

Mostly, I like your red.

I like the way your cheeks flush red when I kiss you like there's no tomorrow. And only a short while ago, there might not have been a tomorrow.

I like the way your red hair lives in the sunshine, in the snow, in the dusky afternoons.

I like you. You are fire. You are warmth and determination and happiness and comfort and you get me going when I'm down. You are my fire.