Friday, July 6th ~ After dark
He was home, she was sure of it. Percy was probably there with him, laughing with him, loving him.
Rose's lips curled back, baring her elongated canines and releasing the soft growl from deep in her throat.
Without a hint of breeze in the air her hair and cloak ripple and move as she stands on the long path that leads toward Gregory Goyle's house. She's far enough back to not trip any wards he might have placed on his home, but Rose can still see the building, can still imagine what might be going on inside it.
If her Master did not call, and her thirst did not grow too powerful, Rose would stand there for hours as she had the other nights. Easily overlooked by all but a few who might look down the path.
She did not react to the crack of Apparation beside her.