Pansy stood in the moonlight in the back garden at Grimmauld Place, waiting impatiently for Axel to relieve himself. It was late, much later in the evening than Harry had come home the previous four days, and Pansy was worried and annoyed and frustrated that he’d yet to turn up for his nightly treatment. It wasn’t like she had anything else to do except for watch her half-crup smell the same spots he’d already smelled at least four times already that day, and maybe updating some case files, but that didn’t stop her from grousing internally over Harry’s rudeness and lack of courtesy.
In her annoyance, she hadn’t bothered with a coat or her wand to cast a warming charm. She was cold, and the chill of worry wasn’t helping. As Axel stretched and kicked and slowly meandered towards the house, Pansy could feel the shift in the wards.