A/N: Hi! So, it was brought up by a previous reviewer that witches and wizards can't apparate without their wands.

But this is my story and I can bend the rules. So there.

ENJOY.

People were gasping around them, moving suddenly in currents against each other.

And then there was light. Flashing light.

Flashing green and purple light.

Severus wasn't sure what the light was, but his instincts told him 'Spells. Get her out.' There was not supposed to be magic here. They were supposed to be safe. She was supposed to be safe.

Without a word, Severus yanked Hermione to him. She yelped and the suddenness of it. He pulled her toward the door and out into the night, onto the flagstone walkway, and up the street. She followed blindly, heart racing, his hand gripped hers hard as he pulled her along.

He yanked her around a corner, pressing her roughly against a stone wall. She flinched, her arm grazing the rough stones. They were in an alley, she realized. It was dark. She could barely see in front of her, but she could feel Severus' breath on her face.

For a long time, neither of them spoke. Severus was thinking, and trying to come up with a plan quickly to get her parents and get them out.

"Was that-?" Hermione gasped finally.

"Yes." Severus said curtly. His answer did not invite further conversation.

He poked his head out of the alley briefly to see flashing lights and sirens following them. He stood in front of her again, the police lights lit up her face to the fleeting terror. She skewed her expression into something that looked like resigned empathy, but she was scared. And she didn't want him to know that. Carefully, he wrapped an arm back around her.

"Hold on to me," he murmured and spun on the spot.

"You could have left a trail!" Hermione snapped, pushing away from him when they landed unceremoniously in their living room.

"Pack." He barked at her, moving into the kitchen to fish a bag from under the sink. For some reason, she collected their shopping bags. He wasn't sure what use they would be until now.

"What?" She squeaked.

"Pack what you can. Now. Call your parents. Tell them to do the same." Hermione stared at him in confusion until his glare sent her skittering off to the phone.

Severus packed for both of them, rather than waiting for her to get off of the phone. He emptied their drawers into bags, cleared out the loo of her toiletries, and met her back in the living room with everything they owned shrunk to fit into two grocery bags. She was just hanging up the phone when he pulled her back into him and spun again.

Fire burned on Severus' arm while he paced Albus' office. If he just ignored it, it would stop. His young wife's eyes tracked his pace. She sat leaning forward, elbows on her knees. She toyed with her wedding band and he found himself doing the same.

"We were supposed to be safe!" Severus roared at the old man sat behind his desk. "You said-you said we would be safe!"

"Severus, sit down!" Albus said firmly. Severus dropped into the chair next to her. Her parents sat next to him looking just as angry.

"It appears as though there are things I did not take into consideration, even after visiting your home in France." Carefully, Albus pushed Hermione and Severus' wands across his desk toward them.

"I should have protected you with Magic instead of hiding you from it." Severus grit his teeth against the pain of the Dark Mark. He felt a hand on the opposite arm and glanced down to see Hermione smoothing her fingers over the fabric of his coat, an attempt to sooth him. She kept her gaze straight ahead, making it seem like an unconscious act. Slowly, the burning began to fade.

"I have a new place," Albus stood and was pacing behind them now. "A place of magic."

"If there are Death Eaters there, Albus-"

"There aren't, Severus. You'll be safe here, covered by the magic of others." The old man was standing in front of her now, his eyes boring into hers. "Miss Granger, what have you read of VooDoo?"

"Not much... It's quite specific." She realized precisely where they were headed, then, and she stood up. The comfort she'd offered Severus was suddenly gone. "New Orleans? You're shipping us off to the States?"

"How did you-" Hermione's mother started to ask, but Hermione cut her off.

"It was either New Orleans or Haiti." Severus stood, resigned. Sensing that his poor wife may be the one in need of comfort this time, his hand found hers and grasped it. He had not forgotten his conversation with Albus before they'd left for France and thus found himself in no position to argue.

"America, then?" He grumbled. Albus nodded.

"Yes, but before you go, there is one last thing."

The door opened behind them, and Hermione turned just in time to be enveloped in warm arms and saw a mess of black hair. And to also hear indignant shouting. Severus' hand slipped from hers and he drew his wand.

"I told you not to let him touch you!" Ronald spat, yanking Hermione into his side. She shoved him away.

"Since when do you get a say in who touches me?" She asked, positioning herself between the two men with her arms outstretched.

"He's touched you?" Her father joined in. She threw a glare at him over her shoulder.

"Just now he was!" Ron snapped.

"Listen, the lot of you!" She shouted. "This might be big news to the men in my life, but I decide who touches me. Not any of you. A comforting hand is hardly touching, Ronald, so back off."

"Hermione?" Harry asked, pointing a finger loosely at her left hand. "What's going on with that? And what are you wearing?" She finally relaxed her stance, not quite sure that Severus and Ron wouldn't still throw hexes with her between them.

And so, she explained the entire situation to her friends. She paced in front of them while they stood rigid and uncomfortable. Ron seemed to understand a little more, but it didn't stop him from throwing glares at her husband. This did not escape her notice.

"And now we have to go," Hermione breathed, "to America." Severus tucked his wand back into his coat and stepped forward next to her; unspoken support in a building storm.

"America!" Harry spat. "What the hell is in America?"

"The safest city for them," Albus interjected. Hermione couldn't hold back a scoff and Severus nudged her in the shoulder with his arm.

"Not exactly the first word I would use to describe New Orleans. Safe… Highest murder rate in the country."

"Why do you know that?" Severus asked skeptically. She shrugged.

"I just know things." His eyebrow, which was usually arched into his hairline, dipped low in astonishment.

"You will be in Tremé," Albus informed them, cutting through the protests from her friends. "It connects with the French Quarter, which is the safest part of town. You will be hidden under the cover of VooDoo energy, and you will be physically safe from the mortal dangers of the city." Hermione scoffed again. Albus leveled her with a hard stare.

"There is a portkey ready to take you to the quarter. From there, you'll travel down Royal Street, across North Rampart, to Ursalines and make a left on Ursalines to Tremé Street. 1301 Upper, Severus. The Grangers will be 1301 Lower. You ought to change before you go. Ballroom attire will attract attention." Severus nodded and dug through the two grocery bags until he found each of them something appropriate to wear, and blushed madly when he pulled out Hermione's bra. She took it, her face red as well and they disappeared behind conjured curtains to change.

Harry took her face in his hands and leaned forward to kiss her forehead. Then he hugged her again, and she wound her arms around his waist to squeeze him back just as hard.

"If you need anything," he said, shooting a pointed glare at Severus, "please let us know. We can't be with you, but we still support you." Ron's arms found their way around both of them and he pressed his lips to her temple briefly before she heard a sniffling. She tilted her face until she saw his freckled cheeks a little wet and splotchy.

"Oh, no you don't," she scolded with no real malice, and turned to hug him individually. "Don't you cry, Ronald Weasley, or I'll cry!" But it was too late. She already was, sobbing into Ron's shoulder. His hands gripped her back tightly and one of Harry's rubbed circles on her shoulder. Agonizingly, she let go of Ron, hugged Harry tightly again one more time, and stepped back again to take Severus' hand. He startled slightly and she could feel his eyes on the top of her head.

"Love you, Hermione," Harry murmured before they were ushered out by the headmaster. She sniffled slightly and cleared her throat. She tilted her head up to meet Severus' eyes. He unconsciously lifted a hand to wipe the dampness from her cheeks. She gave him a watery smile.

Severus was aware that her parents were likely calculating his every move in regards to Hermione. He could feel their eyes on him as the backs of his hands trailed over her cheeks. Albus cleared his throat and the pair of them turned to look at him.

"You ought to be on your way now. The portkey is just outside of the gate. It's late and I'm sure you could all use your rest. Off you go, Bronstons."

They landed under balcony cover by Jackson Square. The French Quarter was packed to the gills with drunk tourists. Some shops remained open. Several bars played loud music; scantily clad girls hung from the doors, attempting to lure in men and women alike. A hand brushed Severus' arm as they made their way down Royal Street, but he kept moving, holding tightly to Hermione's hand. Her parents kept close behind them; her mother occasionally made sounds of disgust.

North Rampart was a busy main street that had them crossing two lanes and a neutral ground before they made it to the Treme side of Ursalines Street. 1301. They were looking for 1301 Treme Street. He traveled down Uralines until he saw the sign for Treme, and there it was. Right on the corner was the shotgun-style apartment with an upper and lower flat.

There was no one on the street. An older man sat on the stoop on the corner across from their address, but he didn't say anything to them; just watched as they hurried up the stairs to 1301 Upper.

The flat was small, but not uncomfortably so. Certainly smaller than their home in France, but it seemed spread out. The stairs to get up, however, were treacherous and almost had to be climbed ladder-style.

At the top of the stairs to the left was the sitting room furnished with two large, green brocade armchairs, and a matching loveseat. Across from them against the ceiling-height windows covered in heavy curtains (necessary for keeping out the oppressive souther heat) was a small television on a short table. The room was decently sized and well-lit. To their right was a small-ish bathroom with flagstone flooring and a clawfoot bathtub. Hermione was already itching to soak in it. Just passed the bathroom was the kitchen. It was small, but the windows made it feel larger than it was. It also had a small door that led out to a precariously built balcony situated over the rubbish bins. Next to the door was an old washer-dryer set.

Hermione opened two french-style doors in the sitting room and found that the bedroom was behind them. It was open and airy and had its own sturdier balcony.

One bed still.

"What are you up to?" She mumbled to herself. There had to be a reason Dumbledore continued to give them a single bed.

"Who are you talking to?" Hermione jumped and turned around. Severus was standing so close she nearly collided with him.

"Myself," she said weakly. He was looking over her shoulder, presumably at the bed as well. It was also smaller than the bed they had in France. "It'll be fine." She said it to convince them both, since his expression was stony but she could feel the nervousness radiating off of him in waves. She touched his arm and his eyes met hers.

He ventured further into the bedroom and dropped the bags of their belongings he'd shrunk onto the made up bed. Hermione turned and went back to the kitchen.

The refrigerator was empty, of course. He can furnish a flat in no time at all, but he can't fill the ice box?

"We'll have to go to the shop again," she grumbled to her parents who were checking out their neighbourhood through one of the sweeping windows.

"I saw a grocery on the corner of Royal," Jean said softly. "Have you the money, darling?" Hermione nodded, leaning against the short counter next to the stove across from them.

"Yeah, plenty. We can go-"

"I'm not sure I'm comfortable with you wandering New Orleans on your own at night. You said it's the murder capitol of the world." Albert turned to face her, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Prof-Andreas and I will be safer than you two will be. We have our wands back, afterall." Her parents shifted their weight uncomfortably.

"I'll protect her," Severus assured them, moving into the kitchen to stand next to her.

"I'm a dab hand at defensive spells, you know," she very nearly complained.

"Really? Tell me; who had to come to your rescue when you and your idiot friends decided on a whim to invade the Department of Mysteries when you were fifteen years old?" He looked pointedly at her chest where he had worked with Madam Pomfrey for hours to close the site where she'd been flayed open Dolohov's curse. She opened her mouth to protest, her hand moving to where his eyes settled, but he pushed on. "And who, dear wife, had to come bail you out when you were held by Umbridge and her cronies the very same year?" She flinched visibly and averted her eyes from him.

"Fine. You can protect me," she grumbled, looking extremely annoyed with him (which for some reason, he took pride in.)

"I'm coming to realize," Jean said shortly, glaring at her daughter, "that we've not been given the whole truth about your time at school." Hermione cleared her throat unnecessarily and pushed away from the counter.

"So, the grocery was on Royal, was it?" And she was gone, making her way down the stairs. Severus nodded to her parents and followed her.

He locked the door behind them and turned to see her peeling her denim coat off. It was much hotter in Louisiana than it had been in Scotland. She tucked her wand into the waistband of her trousers.

"I'll tuck your tendencies toward selective honesty away to remember," he told her, looking up to see her parents watching them from the window.

"I wasn't about to give up any information that would keep me from going back to school." She shrugged and looked up at him. His expression surprised her; he was looking at her with amusement.

"How Slytherin of you."