A/N: Almost didn't finish this one tonight. Just came back from camp.
Prompt #13: 7/21/17
224 words, according to Google docs.
She was fiery, more than anything else. Spirit flashed in her eyes every time she spoke - flames flickering at the edge of her vision. Her red curls glimmered under the sun, and her freckles seemed like hot ashes still falling down from above.
He loved watching her play Quidditch - her hair whipping out behind her, her bright brown eyes narrowed in concentration as she chased after the quaffle. She was always alive when on a broom.
She looked even more like fire, though, when Madame Pomfrey gave her pepper-up potion for her cold. Smoke was constantly pouring out of her ears, and, underneath all that red hair, it looked like her head was on fire. Draco and his goons had made fun of her then. It was fun to see her all riled up and steaming, especially now when she was all grown up. Quite nicely, too.
He had developed the unfortunate habit of staring for hours on end at the fire in the Slytherin fireplace, brooding quietly. Blaise knew what was going on, of course. He would purposely nudge his friend as they passed the Gryffindor in the hallways, maneuver Draco closer to the redhead during class (who knows how many advanced courses she was taking), and was generally a nuisance to all. Secretly, though, Draco was pleased. He enjoyed playing with fire.