Author's Notes: This story was written for Phoenix Rising's Paintbrush and Quill Society. I signed up as an author and was paired with an artist. I was lucky enough to get the talented Perselus as my partner. We discussed every aspect of the plot and art together to put together the following illustrated story. We hope you all enjoy our collaboration.

She designed cover art which can be found at this link:

The next piece of art can be found on DeviantArt at the following link:

http:// www. deviantart. com/ deviation/56098784?qo6&qby3Aperselus&qhsort3Atime+-in3Ascraps

You'll need to take out the spaces in the link. This site doesn't allow web addresses to any other site.

If you enjoy the story and art, please be sure to leave a comment for Perselus, as well.

Thank you so much to SouthernWitch69 for her beta of this story. She was able to give me valuable information about New Orleans, since I hadn't been before, lending an air of reality to the scenes.

Disclaimer: HP belongs to JKR. The artwork is copy written by Perselus, so please be sure to ask her permission if you'd like to use one of her images.

Aperio Veneficus

Chapter One

Hermione Granger flicked her wand harshly at the small bag. It flopped onto one side and lay still, seemingly mocking her with mal-intent. She was attempting to break the jinx on the small gris-gris bag, and so far, nothing she did was giving her the desired results. Turning around on her heel, she pocketed her wand and made her way back to the small house on the Louisiana bayou.

"I need to do a bit of additional research on the type of curse used on the gris-gris, Ms. Trudy," she said to the woman sitting on the porch, "and possibly brew a potion. I've got a feeling that the person who made that gris-gris bag has been studying some of Marie Laveau's more horrible wangas."

"You need SS Apothecary Shop," the ancient woman said. "Best herbs in the business."

"SS Apothecary Shop?" Hermione asked.

"Down in the French Quarter. Juss go ta Lloyd's, and he'll steer ya right." The woman spoke softly but with authority. It was obvious that she was very familiar with the darker aspects of New Orleans.

"I'll be back in a few days," Hermione said, not voicing the understood promise. "Just make sure to keep away from that gris-gris bag. It's not safe to touch."

"Don' haff ta tell me twice," Ms. Trudy said. "Be mindful ya make the right turn. It don' do even for a witch to get lost in the bayou."

Hermione froze and gave a short laugh. "Witch?" she asked.

"Chile, you don' see all I seen in my life without knowin' a witch when you see one. Ya juss be careful now." The old woman gave her a knowing smile and walked into the house, not bothering to close the door behind her.

Hermione climbed into the small car she had driven there and turned around. After several tries in the tiny driveway, she finally righted herself and set off down the road, watching carefully for her turn, mindful of the woman's words. Not even an accomplished witch or wizard could protect against everything in the deepest parts of the bayou alone.

When she finally made her way to the main road an hour later, she breathed a sigh of relief. For some reason, locating charms were of little use inside the bayou areas. They never sent her in the right direction like they were supposed to. One was forced to rely on their own sense of direction.

Hermione allowed her mind to wander as she drove towards New Orleans on the straight highway.

She had stayed in England for five and a half years after the final battle. During that time, she had received a Ministry appointed research job, but it was clear after three years that Muggle-borns were still discriminated against. Hermione had watched as a wizard with less experience, who had worked there less time than she, was given a promotion, totally bypassing her. When she had inquired as to why he had received the promotion over her, her boss had dismissed her, saying it was none of her business why one person was chosen over another. Two years later, she was overlooked yet again. She had handed in her notice the next day and made arrangements to have her vault at Gringotts changed to US dollars. After saying goodbye to her very understanding parents, she had set out for New Orleans.

Hermione had decided to offer her services as a dark magic eradicator, but she knew that she had to first receive the blessing of the most powerful Voodoo queen since Marie Laveau. When Hermione had arrived in New Orleans, her first order of business had been to set up a meeting with Mama Almeda. She obtained a job, and after three months of working for Mama Almeda, Hermione had discovered that the Voodoo queen had lost a brother living in England to Voldemort's Death Eaters. Mama Almeda was also a witch. Because of her roll in Voldemort's defeat, Mama Almeda had decided to allow Hermione to work in New Orleans as long as Hermione passed along any information gathered on jobs and didn't interfere with any of her work. The lesser priestesses of Voodoo and Hoodoo and the locals knew better than to mess with anyone who had received Mama Almeda's blessing. Word of the blessing had traveled fast, and Hermione had received a phone call the next day and started her work. After several successful jobs, Hermione was in great demand.

This was the first time she'd ever run across a jinx she couldn't lift. She parked her car in the small parking lot at the boarding house she was currently living in and began walking to Lloyd's.

The day was scorching, and Hermione began sweating immediately. She sighed in annoyance at herself. She should have known better than to start her walk without casting a Cooling Charm on herself. As she walked, she berated herself even more for failing to cast a Mosquito Repellent Charm as well. She was sure she had a few hundred mosquito bites by the time she reached Lloyd's, and she was panting, sorely in need of a cool drink. As she pushed the door open, the bells on the handle jingled, alerting Lloyd to her presence.

"Hermione," he said in greeting. "What can I do for you today?" he asked, holding out a cup of water.

Hermione sighed in pleasure as the cool water slid down her esophagus. "Ms. Trudy sent me here to ask you for directions to SS Apothecary Shop," she said, setting the cup on the counter next to an assortment of fake alligator claw key chains.

"SS Apothecary?" Lloyd arched his eyebrows at her. "Guess you bein' a witch shouldn't surprise me none," he said.

"How does everyone here seem to know I'm a witch?" she asked.

"Well, the magic school here don' see much point in hidin'. Americans ignore wass in front of their faces. They only take notice to wass hidden. Makes more sense not to hide, don' it?" Lloyd said, flourishing his hands as he explained it to her. "Besides, SS Apothecary is in the wizardin' part of the French Quarter."

Hermione gave a short laugh. "I guess that was something of a give away then," she said. "So, you do know where it is?"

Lloyd nodded, smiling. "'Sides, there's nothin' in New Orleans me an' Ms. Trudy don' know about between the two of us."

Half an hour later, Hermione found herself walking down a road that any Muggle could access. It seemed that the wizarding community took the phrase 'hiding in plain sight' to heart. She could have laughed. A small alleyway just off Bourbon Street held everything a witch or wizard could ask for.

Making her way to the end of the alley, Hermione finally spotted SS Apothecary Shop. The front looked dingy and run down, but Hermione knew the inside would be a different story.

The first thing she noticed upon her entrance was the scent of cinnamon. It seemed this proprietor was very interested in making a profit. As her eyes adjusted to the gloom of the shop, she gasped. Even in Diagon Alley, one couldn't have found a larger assortment of common and rare herbs. Jars lined the packed shelves, each labeled clearly. A feeling not unlike lust ran through her body as she took in her surroundings. She definitely had to talk to the owner.

Walking forward, she approached the counter that held a cash register. A tall, thin man stood with his back to her, his long, black hair hanging freely down his back. He was stocking shelves behind the register. As she took in the labels of the neatly arranged, colorful bottles, she realized that they were rare, hard-to-find ingredients. Some of them were not even allowed in England per Ministry regulations.

"I'll be with you in one moment," the man said in a low, silky voice.

I know that voice, Hermione thought. It couldn't be…

OOooOOooOOooOO

Severus had received his morning shipment, feeling happier than he had in a while. He had been looking for a year for some of the ingredients within. He unpacked the box with care and began stocking his shop's shelves. Each shelf was meticulously organized. He insisted on order, even among the strange Voodoo and Hoodoo ingredients. Some shops he had been in seemed to have no rhyme or reason to the "organization" found within. He catalogued each of his ingredients and stocked them according to spell or potions use and attributes. As he stocked the shelves, he gloated.

Six years ago, he had been exonerated for the cold-blooded murder of Albus Dumbledore. An authenticated will had revealed Dumbledore's orders for Severus to kill him. However, the fact remained that Severus had indeed killed the Headmaster with an illegal Killing Curse. Many remained unconvinced of Severus' loyalty to the Order even after he was pardoned for his crimes. After a year of ridicule and the inability to find a decent job—he'd be damned before he went back to teaching again—he left England.

He had arrived in New Orleans five years ago and set up his shop three months later. After careful study of the area's Voodoo and Hoodoo practices, he catered to their unique needs, carrying all manners of animal and herbal ingredients. His more rare items contained such things as human bones and organs. He made it a practice not to ask how the items were procured by his vendors.

SS Apothecary Shop quickly became the only shop in which to get quality items for rituals and spells. The other shops in New Orleans slowly became simple tourist attractions. Since the American wizarding community was so open to Muggles, Severus was able to set up his shop in the wizarding section of New Orleans without losing his Muggle clients when he outgrew his tiny corner shop on North Rampart Street.

His life had been good in the United States. Most in the US hadn't even heard of Voldemort and the Death Eaters, and many people actually found his Dark Mark "cool." Severus was free from his past for the first time in his life because of the American attitude of don't ask, don't tell. He was able to walk down the street without being harassed or stared at. His dignity as a person and a businessman was intact and respected here.

Taking a look around the shop, Severus frowned. He was low on Redding. He hadn't realized so many people were buying the protective dust. He'd have to visit one of his numerous vendors tomorrow and stock back up. Satisfied with that solution, he walked behind the counter where his cash register stood. It had taken him forever to learn to use the blasted contraption. Yes, he was a half-blood, but he'd never had a Muggle job before, and the register confused him after living so long in the wizarding world.

He delved into the shipment box and began pulling out the jars of rare ingredients for Voodoo and Hoodoo gris-gris bags: alligator feet, alligator teeth, badger teeth, human finger bones in small, medium, and large, human teeth, and several raccoon penis bones. He'd also received a small box of black hen eggs, but those had immediately been put into the small refrigerator under the counter.

The more grisly aspect of the human items made him cringe at times, but after his Death Eater activities, it was trivial in the long run. If his customers wanted the items, then he would make them available. The exorbitant cost of them didn't hurt his feelings either. Severus Snape was in business for the profit.

He was in the midst of arranging the rare and expensive items when the bell on the door rang, alerting him to a customer. Instead of turning around, he let them take in the quality of his shop while he finished arranging the colorful jars on the highly polished shelves. Regular wood shelves adorned the walls and floor of his shop, but the expensive and rare items were on display. The customer, still in the doorway, gasped. It was a woman. With any luck, it was one of the Voodoo priestesses. The alligator feet had been out of stock for nearly a year due to Muggle sanctions on the reptile. He sensed her walking towards the counter, feeling her eyes boring into his back.

"I'll be with you in one moment," he said, using a soft, silky voice. His regular female customers had told him that his voice was "dead sexy" and could convince even the most tight-fisted to spend money. Letting his tone of voice sink in for a moment, he took a deep breath, putting himself into his salesman frame of mind, and turned around.

"No," he said in disbelief, his eyes wide and his mouth hanging open. "Anyone but the know-it-all."