someone touches y/n's bump without her permission

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The second it happens, Y/N freezes.

She's nearing the end of her pregnancy, her stomach bulging above the waistband of every pair of pants she owns. She waddles, she needs Harry's help to get up, and she's sticking to slip-on shoes only, partially because she can't tie her own shoes right now, but also because her feet are so swollen, they don't fit in anything else.

So it's safe to say that the second one of her coworkers reaches out to touch her belly at her company's holiday party, she's less than pleased.

The only person who's angrier than her?

Well, there's barely a need to guess that.

"Can you not do that?" Harry immediately steps forward, creating distance between Y/N and her coworker, a financial analyst she barely knows, and thinks her name starts with an L.

The woman raises her eyebrows. "Do what?"

"Touch her stomach," he replies, his shoulders squared and tense, "You didn't ask for permission and you're clearly making her uncomfortable."

Lena — or is it Lisa? Leann, maybe? — furrows in confusion, hesitantly removing the palm of her hand from the round of Y/N's belly. Instantly, Y/N relaxes, relieved with the absence of her unwanted touch.

"I have three kids and I never had an issue when people touched my stomach." she says as her mouth twists into frown.

"You didn't ask for permission, though," Y/N pipes up, wrapping her fingers around Harry's wrists to gently pull him back. "You did that without consent. You shouldn't ever touch a pregnant person's stomach without consent."

She turns on her heel with a humph, making both Harry and Y/N roll their eyes in unison. Y/N sighs as she leans back against the wall, cradling the edge of her bump.

"People keep doing that." she mutters.

"I know. I don't like it."

"I feel like a zoo animal."

"I'm sorry," Harry mumbles, reaching forward to brush some of her hair behind her ear. "Do you wanna leave?"

She nods, swallowing the small lump of tears in her throat. "Please. I'm starving, the caterers they chose weren't very pregnant lady-friendly."

"What, those tiny appetizers didn't fill you up?"

She glances up at him with a scowl and he laughs, pressing his hand to the small of her back.

"C'mon, let's get out of here. I'll swing by the diner on our way back. Get you your favorite."

Y/N's mouth begins to water nearly immediately, relief washing over her at the thought of a full meal.

"Can you get me a milkshake, too?"

"Babe, I would never not get you one."

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