All My Secrets

Perfect. Just perfect. After a week in that thrice-accursed 'pet shop', Draco had thought this was as bad as it was going to get. Now, he was finally out. Sprung by none other than Ginny Weasley. Quicksilver. ...he attempted a disdainful snort, but only managed a sneeze, drawing a concerned look from his new 'owner'. Not that the name was that bad, really. Given his knowledge of Gryffindor females, he was amazed that he wouldn't be expected to answer to Fluffy or something of that sort. But the very notion of a Malfoy being owned by ANYONE, like some common house-elf, let alone the daughter of his father's arch-enemy. ..he hissed at the very thought. To his annoyance, the look Weasley shot him was an amused one.

"Feisty little one, aren't we?" she asked with a chuckle. He could think, offhand, of about a dozen scathing remarks he could make to that, but, of course, the little brat wouldn't understand a word. It was going to be a toss-up which would be more inconvenient - no wand or no larynx. After all, he thought sourly, he had a year to find out.

"Should we get going?" she asked, her cheerful voice setting his teeth on edge. As Weasley rose from the bench, then gathered up the cage and set off, jolting him with her brisk pace, Draco made a fervent promise to himself.

He was going to KILL Granger.

Once again, Ginny pulled out her wand as she faced the barrier, tapping the one small brick, then hearing the loud rumble as the opening widened. She glanced at Silver, slightly worried that the noise would frighten him, but to her surprise, he hadn't so much as flicked an ear. Shaking her head, bemused, she reentered the dark pub. There was, as always, a fire going in the Leaky Cauldron's hearth, and it was this that Ginny turned to now. She took a pinch of Floo powder from the small dish they kept to accommodate visitors, then stood before the dancing flames. Again, she glanced at her pet - surely the closeness to a roaring fire would startle even this unflappable animal, but still Silver did not seem perturbed. Rather, he eyed the hearth almost expectantly - as if he knew Ginny had business there.

"Sure of yourself, aren't you, little fella?" she asked him half-teasingly. Briefly, he fixed her with a look that made her feel as if SHE were the tiny one, then returned his attention to the fire. She shrugged.

"Have it your way, then," she muttered, casting the powder into the flames. Taking an even more firm grip on Silver's cage, she stepped forward, suppressing her customary wince with an effort. Often as she did this, she couldn't overcome the instinct to avoid touching fire whenever possible. The tongues of flame surrounding her stayed dormant under the spell, however, and she yelled "The Burrow!" with confidence.

Almost immediately, her senses began to whirl, and she could feel the relentless pull the powder produced. Grimly, she ignored a twinge of nausea. She felt her trailing finger scrape against something, leaving a bit of skin behind. Abruptly, her discomfort sharpened into actual pain as she fell to her knees on cold stone. She shot a quick look at Silver - the ferret was righting himself, managing to seem relieved and irritated at once. He was not hurt, she could tell, but the jostling had injured his dignity a bit. Reassured that he was all right, she got to her own feet, a smile edging onto her face as she drank in the familiar sights, sounds, and even smells of her home.