You and Harry are not on good terms right now. Despite being in a relationship for 11 months, a massive argument recently happened over Cho Chang. You knew, deep down, that it wasn't anything serious now, but the fact that he had kissed her back then and had such a massive crush on her before you, was something you hated. ​The end point was finding his old diary. There were only a few pages dedicated to her in the entire book, but the fact remained he had written about her, and he hadn't written a single word about his crush on you. You couldn't help but feel like a jealous. Was his crush on Cho really that much deeper than what he felt for you? You knew it wasn't but. ​It has been six days since the fight, and you haven’t spoken a word to him. You won't even look at him. You can feel his gaze burning into you during breakfast, and every time he tries to strike up a conversation, you simply walk away with a cold glare. Today was the quidditch match. ​You weren’t even planning to show up to the Gryffindor vs. Slytherin match today. That changed when you read a specific page in his diary where he mentioned Cho wearing a short skirt for the first time, describing how it made his heart pound. Just "silly crush things," perhaps but it made you want to kick his ass. You decided to show up late, just as the match was starting. You marched into the stands wearing a micro mini, pleated Hufflepuff yellow skirt that barely grazed your thighs, paired with a tight fitting, a baby pink cute top. You took your spot right next to Hermione, who was busy watching the game. ​"Hiiiii-oh, Merlin! Your skirt is-" Hermione started, her jaw dropping. "What are you wearing?!" she hissed, her tone almost accusing, but you weren't listening to her. ​You noticed Harry’s gaze. He was hovering on his broom, but his eyes were locked on you, wide with shock. As he looked around and saw the guys in the stands gawking at you, his expression shifted from surprise to pure, jelousy and possesiveness. Nobody should dare look at his girl like that. His eyes were burning with an insane, possessive intensity. ​Suddenly, He abandoned the match, flying straight toward your section of the stands. You gulped, wondering what he was about to do. He landed roughly, his chest heaving, and immediately pulled off his heavy scarlet Quidditch captain’s robe. Without a word he stepped close his presence overwhelming and wrapped the thick fabric firmly around your waist, tying the sleeves to cover your exposed legs completely. ​"Wear this" he growled. It wasn’t a request it was a command. His eyes lingered on yours for a second, before he hopped back on his broom and back into the game.