The Headmistress hummed as she took a sip of her tea. "It certainly is a quandary."
Silence reigned until Riddle gave a harsh response, "That's it? Such insightful words…"
Dumbledore didn't bother hiding her smile as she looked over the rim of her mug to the professor. "You seem to be in a rare mood Grace. Usually, you are one of the more patient members of the staff." Harry watched as the younger woman crossed her arms with a huff, muttering to herself about something he couldn't quite hear which promptly earned a chuckle from the elder. "I am not saying we sit idle. Clearly something needs to be done but rushing into action will not help us, not now."
She turned her attention to the boy before nodding.
"Is there anything specific she told you Harry? Anything we might be able to use for evidence or to find more information?"
"He already told you…" Riddle began with a growl before the wizard interrupted. "No, nothing else I can think of. The threats were specific but other than how I had interrupted her plans three times she didn't exactly give an evil monologue."
Augustina awarded him with a warm smile, "A shame, it is so much easier when that happens."
It earned a snort from the boy as well, who had been through his share of such events. "I won't sit by and let her target my family Dumbledore, I can't."
But the woman was already nodding in agreement, "I understand and agree, the safety of others is our primary concern, and it does not appear as though she is going to let up in her actions."
"She's targeting Marie, isn't she? Because of her parents, or at least that's what my cousin said."
The two women shared a glance before the older leaned back into her chair. "We certainly suspected it, which is why we permitted Remi Lupin to remain at Hogwarts. But with this confirmation we can have a more focused investigation. Did you by chance get a name?"
"I don't think you need one. You've already spoken to her." Dumbledore frowned, obviously going back through her extensive memory before Harry clarified. "At Hogwarts, she was the one who insisted on sending students for the Minister."
A shadow passed across the elder's face, "Tonee Travers."
"A member of the school board and well connected." Riddle noted with distaste. "Why does it feel like every rich member of society is either a power crazed nut job or a useless bitch?"
Dumbledore stood before making her way towards the Floo. "I will do what I can starting tomorrow morning by making some calls and contacting the authorities. First things first however I need to inform both your parents and the Rosiers of the situation to ensure proper protections are in place." She glanced over and focused her gaze on one before turning to the other. "You two will stay out of trouble for now, and I mean it . Do not go making threats, breaking into a person's house, or causing issues. Give us some time to figure things out so arrests can be properly made."
With that she departed.
****
Following Dumbledore's, borderline worthless, visit Harry had headed towards the bathroom to try and relax and, in his words, 'wash off the woman's filth.'
Grace certainly didn't blame him, being so close to such an obvious sociopath would make anyone feel dirty in ways they shouldn't. Thus, she did her best to give him a bit of space and busy herself with other tasks. A bit of cleaning here and there, setting out some things for their meals the next day, some unpacking.
But it only calmed her anxieties for a few minutes, and finally she found herself without any other options than to change into her sleepwear. The only slight problem was her room was next to the same one Harry was bathing in. While she could hear the water running her attention was quickly drawn to another, very important, fact. Whether by design or accident, the door had not been completely closed and was left slightly ajar.
She shouldn't, she really shouldn't. It wasn't as if she hadn't seen him naked, on numerous occasions, but this seemed different. He wasn't openly inviting her to spy on him, and despite everything they weren't in an 'official' relationship.
Looking in and peeping on the teen while he showered was unethical, and possibly a bit illegal. So, she definitely, absolutely, positively shouldn't be…
A soft, almost inaudible due to the sound of water running, moan reached her ears. In an instant she was at the door, pressing her face against the frame and peering through. She had attempted to justify her actions as ensuring he wasn't hurt or sick, but really, she was just playing the role of 'perverted old woman acting like a hormonal young witch and trying to peep on a young, naked, boy'.
The room was steamy but despite it she could just make out his form, one which was leaned against the wall, still underneath the shower, one arm bent over his head while the other was…
Another moan and any doubts about the situation evaporated.
Because holy.
Fucking.
Shit.
Harry was touching himself in her bathroom.
What, how, why…
What should she do? What could she do? Burst in? Demand he stop touching himself so she could? Ask if she could help? Ask if she could just watch?
Decades of life, of teaching, hadn't prepared her for this, nothing had prepared her for this. Yes, she was having sex with him on a semi-regular basis, yes it was amazing, yes he seemed to enjoy it as well, but still there seemed to be a line drawn between having sex and stumbling upon him pleasuring himself.
She knew the myths and delusions about how men didn't enjoy sex, about how women clearly did because they were so verbal, so reactive to it and men just pretended to cater to witches.
She also knew it was complete bullshit, even before meeting Harry and seeing, listening to his reactions to such activities.
But still.
There was a difference between being with him, or seeing him with others, and him being alone and…
"Grace…"
Good Goddess in Heaven. She was fairly sure he didn't know she was there, which could only mean he was thinking about her.
Harry was thinking about her while touching himself. She wanted to see more, was desperate to see more. What did his face look like, how hard was he? What exactly was he doing to give himself such pleasure?
Her mind raced, thoughts quickening as his own touch seemed to, as her touch seemed to because without even realizing it, she had begun masturbating as well. There were gasps from the shower, a tightening of muscles, and yes, his arse because she could see that better than what she really wanted but it was still a wonderful sight.
He was close, she was close. She wasn't sure who finished first but was very certain he might have heard her, rather verbal, orgasm over his own breathy one.
Something to discuss another time though.
_________________
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