A/N: This is a super-belated birthday gift for my beta and good friend, Maria Binger. The prompts were escape, something new, and hope and I really don't think I did a good job with two of the three but what I lack in substance I make up with lemons. Hopefully that works.

Enjoy!

Hermione sat on the porch outside their house, tucked safely in a suburb of London. The oversized diamond ring felt like a lead weight on her left hand, and she was seriously debating tearing it off and throwing it as far as she could. It was their first row, and it had been epic. She couldn't blame him, he was the most protective partner she ever had, but that was because, of everyone she had ever been with, he was the only one who was less breakable than she. It was something new to her, being the fragile one in the relationship, and perhaps it was his overprotectiveness that drove her to prove she wasn't some delicate little doll who needed a constant protector. And so she had quit her job working in the department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, joined the Aurors, and threw herself into the most dangerous missions. It drove him crazy, and when she had accepted an assignment that dealt with a possible werewolf his distaste for her job manifested itself in a shouting match that ended with him leaving and a wall that was going to need some serious repairs.

The day he had proposed she had been thrilled, and immediately ran around to each of her best friends to announce the big news. And while each of them had their reservations at first, eventually they all congratulated her and were excited for their upcoming nuptials. His family was equally thrilled, especially when she proved she could hold her own against them. For the past three months she planned their wedding, picking out the perfect dress, carefully deciding the venue, and generally doing her best to mesh their two worlds. And in this moment, staring out at the small patch of rose bushes he had planted for her, she was wondering if it was all time wasted.

She felt his presence a microsecond before his strong arms wrapped around her. The air got chilly, but not the uncomfortable cold one might expect on a late October evening. He was moving slowly, cautiously, trying to read her reaction. And she was careful to show none, because she knew the next few minutes would decide which direction their relationship was going. And he didn't speak for several minutes, his chin resting on her shoulder, his cheek pressed against her neck, his chest pressing against her as he slowly inhaled her scent.

"I have something I want to show you," he whispered.

"Hmmm?" she replied, confused of his first choice of words.

"It's not here," he continued. "And I will not take you to it without your permission."

"Like you could make me go anywhere without my permission," she replied, fighting to keep a smile off her face.

"Does that constitute permission?"

She bit her lip, pretending to think about it for a minute, knowing it drove him crazy to not know that was going through her mind. "I guess."

He dug in his pocket and produced a silver pen.

"That doesn't look like a place, Edward," she said slowly, like speaking to a child.

"That will take us to the place," he replied in false exasperation, smiling as he did so. As many years he had been around he hadn't met very many who could match his intelligence, and a running joke was to point out when the other made an obvious statement.

"Last time I checked vampires can't make portkeys."

"I went to Harry, and he helped me. He said it'll work when we're both holding onto it."

Cautiously she took the pen. The moment her fingers touched it there was the familiar blue glow, then the feeling of moving through space. When she landed they were standing in front of a large house. Soft lights from the window gently illuminated the white gravel drive they were standing on, though there was no motion coming from any of those windows. To one side was a garden with an ivy-covered arch heralding the entrance, to the other was a luxurious pool with a waterfall and hot tub, and that was only the side she could see.

"What is this place, Edward?" she whispered, in awe of the beauty of the house.

"It was going to be your wedding gift from me, but considering the circumstances I am going to give it to you now. It'll be your choice as to whether or not I will be joining you here, but it's yours either way."

"Edward…" she whispered, but couldn't say anything else. Instead he led her to the front steps, then carried her inside, where she was struck silent by the grandeur of everything surrounding her.

"Esme and Alice have had the time of their lives decorating it," he told her, wrapping an arm around her.

"There's just so much of it," she muttered.

"I wanted you to always be able to host as many of your friends and their families as you want here. And you must admit, the number of Weasleys seems to be going up by the day. I know there is magic supporting it, but I'm afraid the Burrow is going to come tumbling down from the sheer number of people who gather there at holidays."

She laughed. Percy, George, and Ron had all had children in the same week, Ginny and Bill were both expecting, and Molly was far from upset by the number of jokes this had caused about "Multiplying like Weasleys".

"Is it okay for you?" she asked.

"It'll take a little travel to go hunting, but it's close enough any major hunting trips shouldn't last more than two days or so. No less than what it takes for me to go hunting now."

"Good thing Alice and Esme decorated this place, because I think I'd go mad trying to myself."

"Yes, but they did go a little overboard with some themed rooms for the children. I do believe one has a suspended bed built into an old airplane."

"They don't know when to hold back, do they?"

"I've tried, but my objections have fallen on deaf ears many times. Would you like a tour?"

"I do think a full tour would require a map and hiking equipment. And it's very late. I should have been in bed a long time ago."

"Perhaps the bedroom, then?"

"Lead the way."

Instead he swept her into his arms, and she didn't protest. She got quick glimpses of gilded mirrors and crystal chandeliers before Edward opened the door to the Master bedroom and deposited her inside.

The floor-to-ceiling glass French doors were opened to a private patio, and the smell of the thick green vegetation surrounding the house gently wafted into the room, ruffling the thin red curtains surrounding the giant four poster bed and beckoning her to go outside. She walked out the doors, leaning against the stone railing, looking out at the black outlines of rolling hilltops against a moonlit sky dotted with stars.

He pressed into her from behind, arms hugging her tightly, lips resting against the nape of her neck, causing goose bumps to rise over her skin. "I owe you an apology," he murmured.

"Hmm?"

"For overreacting about your mission. You know how I am about dogs…"

"Edward," she said warningly, hating the names his family called werewolves.

"Sorry," he said, but they both knew the next time he had to talk about them he'd be using the slurs again.

"I know you hate them, and I know you are afraid something is going to happen to me, but I assure you I wouldn't go on this mission if I wasn't completely sure I was going to be safe. It'll be my last mission for… a while, and I want to help Harry."

"It's so close," he said, holding her even more tightly. "I don't think I could stand to lose you right now. Or what would happen if something went wrong…"

"We're waiting until the new moon- as far from the full moon as we can get. It's the lowest part of the cycle for them."

"I know, but…"

"Would you be more comfortable if you went along?"

"Excuse me?"

"We could use your nose. We know the general area he's staying, but not his exact location. If it takes us more than a couple hours to find him we could lose the element of surprise, and that makes it a much more dangerous situation."

"I make no promises if I go."

"I don't expect you to, but don't expect me to sit back if you two fight," she warned.

"I wouldn't expect you to," he smiled against her skin. "You're infuriatingly compassionate."

"Only an infuriatingly compassionate person would be mad enough to accept a vampire's invitation for a date, much less his proposal of marriage."

"An infuriatingly compassionate person who has no sense of self-preservation," he agreed, pressing his lips to her neck. She moaned, leaning backwards against his strong body, melting into his embrace. He took his time, lips lightly tracing the contours of her neck and jaw before his hands moved across her torso, finding the buttons on the front of her blouse. The fact that he could have the garment on the floor in less than a second drove her mad as he deliberately moved slowly until each one was unfastened, the fabric parting just enough to be touched by the cool breeze until the whole thing was undone. His fingers traced the edges of the blouse as he brought them back up to her collar, then gripping the fabric and slowly starting to slide it from her body, following it down her shoulder with his lips.

She opened her mind to him, surrendering control to him, something they had to do for the time being. Only once she had become as unbreakable as he would she be able to keep a little surprise in their liaisons, but she wasn't ready for that change yet, and there was an advantage to having a man who knew each of her desires the moment it passed through her mind.

She wasn't aware he had moved her until the soft comforter pressed against her back, both their shirts already finding their place on the floor. His lips pressed hungrily against hers, and she grabbed the hair at the back of his head to hold him to her. A cool hand slid up her side, leaving a wake of goosebumps, before it began to massage her breast through her bra. She pressed herself into the contact, wrapping a leg around his thigh, pulling him to her.

"You have no patience sometimes," he chuckled as he looked down into her eyes.

"You make it hard to have patience," she shot back in a husky voice. "It's like living out a fantasy, having a man who knows exactly where and when to touch you, what moves drive you wild and exactly how to drive you over the edge at just the right moment."

"Trust me," he murmured into her ear. "There is nothing better than knowing you got exactly what you wanted."

"If you were paying attention…" she started, but his lips found her favorite spot on her neck before she had a chance to finish. She sighed happily, feeling his hand slipping behind her and the band of her bra go slack. He traced the path of one of the straps down her arm with her lips, then moved his lips to the bare plane of her stomach, alternating between kisses and cool breaths, watching carefully as her muscles twitched involuntarily. He massaged one breast as he kissed every part of it he could before giving into her mental begs to give attention to her peak. Her hips bucked into him, desperate for friction, as he repeated the movements he knew would have her writhing and begging him to finally take her. Each breast was given its share of attention, and by the time he had finished she couldn't confine her begs to her mind.

"Please, Edward," she moaned, hips grinding into his leg desperate for him to rid her of her pants and give her the attention she craved most.

Smiling he sat up, unbuttoned her jeans and slowly pulled the fabric from her body. This was the hardest part for him, the smell of her arousal was almost too much to keep him from moving too quickly at times, but a look into her eyes reminded him that she was too precious to give into the monster screaming at him to ravish her.

His own pants joined hers, and he nudged her knees with his, positioning himself over her. He stared into her chocolate brown eyes as he entered her, fingers tearing long gouges in the sheet and mattress on either side of her. The damage didn't faze her, she was too used to it by now to even look twice at the ripped fabric. He moved against her, and she lifted her hips with each of his thrusts to meet him, pulling his head down to hers to lock lips once more. The first time they had made love he was afraid that being so close to her blood for so long might prove too tempting, but he hadn't been expecting all the feelings, all the human sensations of being buried inside a woman, feeling her wrapped around him, feeling her warmth pressed into him, and for the first time since he could remember he blissfully forgot all about blood and lived in the moment. She was still cautious, drawing his tongue away from his mouth and into hers, but with her nails raking against his stone skin as he adjusted his hips and began to hit her sweet spot.

In a motion that would make an unsuspecting woman dizzy he reached behind her, pressing her back into him, and turned so he was sitting up against the headboard. Hermione had expected this, reaching her hands out to grab the backboard without breaking their embrace, moving her hips as she took the cautious lead. Beads of sweat broke out across her skin, immediately cooled against his body, creating a sensation that she could only describe as "electrifying". She moved her body sinuously atop his, her mind warning him when she was about to speed her motions or slow them, and her thoughts becoming less coherent as her climax neared until she was completely focused on the feelings of her body and forgetting to move. He took over, gripping her hips and moving her against him as he drove into her, feeling her tighten against him, and holding out his own climax until she finished with a cry, then pulling her roughly onto him and spilling into her.

She rested her head against his shoulder as she caught her breath, and when she finally felt enough control of her body she moved to kiss him. She collapsed next to him, and he pulled the thick comforter over them as he took her in his arms and held her. For several minutes they said nothing, and her breathing became more slow and steady, and he was sure she fell asleep.

"Don't you dare," she murmured as he lifted the comforter to check out how many bruises she had. She hated his obsession with her body's physical state after sex, and kept a jar of George Weasley's best bruise remedy in the drawer next to her bed so he couldn't see it.

"I was afraid…" he started, but she slapped her hand over his mouth.

"I will hex it shut if you finish that thought," she grumbled with a yawn as she tucked a sheet around herself so he wouldn't be able to see the hand-shaped bruises forming on her hips.

"Sorry," he replied with a smile, because while he was sure she was joking he wasn't willing to push his luck. "You should get some sleep."

"I know. I have some sort of wedding rehearsal to go to tomorrow, though I'm thinking of skiving off."

"If I'm not mistaken, I do believe the bride is one of the more essential parts of the rehersal."

"I'll send a body double. I doubt anyone would notice. Especially not Alice."

"Anger her at your own risk," he chuckled.

"I can hide where even Alice Cullen can't find me," she said with another yawn.

"We'll have to do that sometime," he whispered, fingers running through her hair until she was asleep.