In this Chapter, Hermione struggles with her guilt of foreknowledge that she can't act on.
Eric Lehnsherr was about 15 when he was freed from the concentration camp. I will be making him a little younger, at about 9.
- In addition, this character was born Max Eisenhardt and went by Magnus after he left Auschwitz. Later on, and after the death of his daughter Anya, he basically killed a bunch of people and changed his name to Erik Lehnsherr to avoid being arrested. When Charles Xavier met him for the first time in Israel, he was going by that alias - thus everyone knew him in the Xmen as Erik. (comics kind of went back and forth as to if that was his real name or another alias)
- However, for this fic, Erik was born with this name and will stay with it.
Pre-knowledge to know: Auschwitz is made up of three camps, and had multiple sub-camps surrounding it.
I will not be getting too deep into the darkness and the deeds committed at Auschwitz, as I find it very difficult to write. If you would like more information on the Holocaust and its relevancy within WW2, I would highly recommend committing to your own research. I am only adding this to the fic as Magneto is a character that was fundamentally started there.
Warning: Mentions of child abuse
Jan 26th, 1945 - Oświęcim, Poland
Gusts of choppy wind swept Hermione's escaping curls in all directions as she exited the massive C-87. She quickly shielded her eyes from the icy torrents as the propellers powered down behind her. James "Joey" Falsworth, Phillips' chosen guide and Howling escort, was hot on her heels, giving a sharp wave to the only jeep waiting for them at the end of the tarmac.
Getting closer, Hermione's eyes widened at the familiar face in the driver's seat. "Lieutenant Sousa!" she gasped with a smile. Joey opened her car door for her, hustling her forwards before she could say much else, and she seated herself in the back.
Daniel turned in his seat to grin back at her. "It's Agent now, Agent Granger," he returned with a nod and an easy smile.
Her eyes brightened. "Is it? Well then, congratulations! That's excellent news, welcome to the team."
The military worked fast, but apparently, Peggy Carter worked faster.
"And a congratulations to you as well, ma'am," he motioned to her sparkling engagement ring. "I didn't see that the last time we spoke."
Her thumb rubbed against the golden metal without thought. "Yes. A rather new development actually, thank you," she smiled in return. Hermione turned to introduce the Howling Commando. "Agent, this is-"
He tipped his head to Joey. "Major Falsworth, I believe? I've recently seen your publicity photos with Captain America. It sure is a pleasure to meet you, sir."
Joey tossed his pack on top of Hermione's in the backseat, closed the jeep door behind him, and then settled down in the front, switching his gaze between Hermione and Daniel, questioning their obvious relationship. "Agent Sousa," he answered shortly.
Daniel didn't seem to mind the mild dismissal and pulled away from the airport strip, towards the wild forests around them. "I'm glad you guys got here so soon!" He shouted over the sound of the rushing wind and jeep engine. "SSR intel suggests that whatever city-camp-area we're walking into tomorrow was mostly evacuated a few days ago. The 322nd Rifle Division is keen to do a walk-through before they advance into Berlin."
Auschwitz, a once overcrowded camp, currently would only have several thousand prisoners remaining. Everyone else, an estimate of over sixty thousand people, would have been evacuated days prior by Nazis and forced into a death march deeper into German lines. According to Hermione's weak memory of the details involved, those who remained were going to be shells of their former selves, wasted and sickly, most not even living through the next week.
"How close are they from this place?" Joey asked, interrupting Hermione's morose thoughts.
"Only about a half-day out by now," Daniel answered. "Another couple of hours and they'll be at the front doors."
Gracious, so soon. Her mind reeled with the things that still needed to be accomplished.
Per her agreement with Colonel Phillips, not a single soul beyond the two of them knew what the Soviets would be walking into. None of the horrors that the Nazi party left behind, waiting for the Allies to uncover, just as it had been in her own timeline.
Both were fearful that if she helpfully 'nudged' Allied leaders towards certain events like this before they manifested naturally, it might trigger a rippling effect of cosmic backlash debilitating all Allied nations. Considering the new Hydra weapons discovered and how lethal they could be without any outside interference, no one, not even Hermione, could afford to tempt their line of reasoning.
She could not read the future consequences of her current actions, and Hermione did not have the resources to verify how her history of concentration camps were found, liberated, or managed after discovery. She did not know the name of every concentration camp, the dates of military movements, or the outcomes of every battle thereafter. While she had her Mastery in the History of Magic, and therefore knew some details of major events, her focus had been on the magical side of every war, not muggle. She could not be entirely sure what was intertwined in her world with magical events, and what stood irrevocably muggle.
So, sickeningly, Hermione followed the natural progression of the timeline and waited despite her foreknowledge. She received reports on the hundreds of thousands dying every day in the meantime. If there was a cosmic scale of balance, Hermione was sure that her inaction heavily tipped the weight against her soul. Guilt was not a word she thought could fully define the feelings constricting her chest. There was no atonement for inaction as there was for her creation of the Midnight Oil. She knew this.
However, if nothing else, she could fight the boundaries of her passivity by preparing for the thousands of people waiting for rescue here.
With food, water, clothes, shelter, and medical supplies. With a confundus charm on supply masters, a flick of her wand on inventory numbers, and the muttered spellcasting of empowered doubling charms, Hermione would make sure that the incoming Soviet soldiers would have the equipment to help as many liberated prisoners as they could.
"What of the supplies?" Hermione questioned.
Agent Sousa sharply tugged the wheel, otherwise missing a booby trap lying in wait for passing vehicles, and answered her."The Soviet military medical service and Polish Red Cross are confused as to the amount of extra amount assigned," he reported, "but are all happy to accept it."
Of course they would be, everyone was hurting for a little extra these days. Hermione had negotiated the accumulation of those supplies weeks before with Colonel Phillips, and it was good to see her plans coming to fruition.
By the time Hermione, Daniel, and Joey caught up to the Soviet soldiers, the assemblage of soldiers were settling down for the evening. Later that night, Hermione invisibly set to work duplicating the supplies available and casting extension charms on the inside of the supply trucks, generating enough as to help with today's rescues, but not too much as to question the internal dimensions within the vehicles.
When the 322nd Rifle Division began their descent into the sub-camp the next morning, Hermione followed along with dread and trepidation. She did not remember the time stamps for this operation or of the numbers associated with whatever she'd help to find from her past history books, only that it would be heartbreaking.
Hermione had always thought throughout her studies that the details of such brutality in those books were best left for the pages to remember. She had never spent the time to truly condole in their facts, only in memorizing and regurgitating the topics that she knew would be tested on, something she desperately wished she could go back and correct now. She felt as if she was very mentally and emotionally unprepared for the situations that would surely lay ahead.
Jan 27th, 1945 - Auschwitz, Poland
It was excruciating.
Awful.
Worse than that. Perhaps there was no word created yet.
Black and white pictures from her childhood did nothing to demonstrate the bare inhumanity abandoned within the thousands left behind Auschwitz walls.
And the child.
Erik Lehnsherr was a dark-haired boy with gaunt cheeks that would have once been round with childhood innocence. His dark brown eyes were lit with the reflection of inflicted malevolence instead of the adolescent legacy of his peers across the other side of the world that held curiosity, pride, and humor.
Hermione's heart broke over and over again when she looked at him: the product of a boy who was left to fend for himself after experimentation and cruelty. She hadn't even found out until later that he was only nine years old.
When she came upon the plastic room hidden deep within the 'medical offices', he was thinly dressed in a prisoner's outfit with delicate wrists and ankles strapped to a plastic table by thick plastic cuffs. Sunken eyes were hopeless and defeated as they barely opened to the electric lights and the three soldiers looking for him. He simply lolled his head to one side, took in the dark shadows of their uniforms, and then closed his eyes with a lasting sigh.
It gave her pause. And then understanding.
He wanted the release that only death could give. For someone to strike him down so he could be somewhere that might resemble peace. A desperate plea and a longing that had no place on a child's face.
Rage exploded within her, hot and potent. A baby, a child, expecting - hoping for the pain to go away the only way they knew how. Had been taught to expect.
The sheer hate at the thought of how he must have been conditioned to act like this struck her like lightning. Her fingertips tingled, her teeth clenched, her vision blurred. It made her want to weep. To scream. To rage at their cruelty with vengeance and wrath.
Her magic, always so tightly controlled, lashed out violently with her emotions.
The electric lights flicked above the trio of soldiers. A fierce gust of icy wind suctioned from outside turned blazing in the next moment and swept with hurricane ferocity across the room. Plastic instruments flew. Papers tornadoed. Joey and Daniel ducked to the ground. The air grew thick with static and a density that couldn't be found but on the ocean floor filled the spaces between.
Her muscles were tensed and coiled. The more she saw, the more she wanted to destroy. To kill. To rip and ravage and feel with the skin of her bare hands.
His stick-thin appendages, not more than brittle bones, were littered with bandages and dark purpling bruises across sun-deprived skin.
She walked through the wind and the dying lights. It didn't look as if Erik hadn't moved from his exhausted state, but his neck was arched backward more than it was previously, and his palms were open.
The heat, Hermione's understanding came a second later. The blazing heat from her frustration and rage that had poured over the room …. It might have been the first time he'd felt such warmth in - well, Hermione swallowed and stepped closer to the child. Her anger at them, the faceless soldier who had done this, were squashed down, deep down. She took a long breath.
The wind died. Papers fluttered to the floor. The oppressive other in the air diminished. "Erik?" she called softly, palms open and exposed at her hips.
A sliver of brown eyes surrounded by thick black lashes opened, squinting up at her hesitantly, fearfully.
"My name is Agent Granger," she continued in her most gentle tone, putting a hand on the plastic clasp around one of his hands. Without thinking, the clasp unlocked and released the bruised skin beneath. Hermione carefully reached out across him to the other one. "I'm with the SRR, a division with the United States military. Do you understand me?"
He tensed, then slowly, the young boy nodded. He retreated his newly reacquired limbs to his chest, hugging them close like he was afraid she would snap them back up.
Hermione was just glad that he spoke English. And was answering her. "The men that had you here are gone. They left a few days ago. We're here to rescue you. Are you hurt?" Hermione immediately wished that she could take back her last words. Hurt. Merlin, look at him. Of course he bloody well hurt.
Instead, Erik shallowly shook his head, curling his head down, trying to look smaller.
Hermione's heart broke in her chest, a very real feeling that swallowed her voice as she unclasped his legs. They curled towards his middle as they were freed and shivered, thin clothing doing nothing for him in the rapidly cooling room.
Hermione got down to his eyesight, awkwardly bending at the knees next to the table, and spoke in the softest whisper she could. "I'm not going to hurt you Erik," she promised, but he scrunched his eyes closed, fists clenching into balls at his chest. He shivered on the table and remained like stone against her words.
He was not going to come with her like this, Hermione realized. The world had broken his trust. He'd been through more than Hermione could even imagine, was probably accustomed to horrible treatment, and had lost all hope. Her words most likely meant nothing to him.
She frowned. Perhaps something they could share then?
Hermione flicked a look behind her and saw Joey and Daniel at the entrance of the large room. Back on their feet, they both stood in the doorway, hesitating before following in after her. Hermione didn't blame them. She had no idea how to explain the sudden weather phenomenon they'd been a part of.
"I'm going to need you both to turn around and stay that way until I tell you."
Daniel and Joey exchanged a glance. Paused. Then, without question, they did as they were told and turned around, facing the way out.
Hermione breathed out in relief. She was going to have to tell them something eventually, but first, Erik.
She ducked back down to his closed eyes and produced a simple blue flame over her open palm. It was lively and produced little heat, but it was impossible to do for anyone other than what she was. Different. "Erik," she called again softly.
He flinched.
"Erik, don't be afraid. Just look at me for one moment, okay? Open your eyes. Just for a moment."
The smooth reassurance of her voice must have reached some part of him because his scrunched expression smoothed. Then, achingly slowly, he opened those fragile brown eyes the barest of slivers to her. The light attracted the focus of his gaze, and when he recognized the impossibility sitting in her open hand, his eyes widened. Wonder filled his gaze. He gasped through a scratchy throat and leaned forwards to the flame cautiously.
"You-" he started, and then fell into a coughing fit through his abused throat. Still, his eyes remained entranced with the dancing light and he swallowed his choking as best as he could. "You're like… me." The last word was softer than a whisper and even so close to him, Hermione barely caught it, but she nodded nonetheless.
"I am," she vowed solemnly. A spark of hope passed over his face. "I don't have the same powers as you, but I can do things that normal people can't."
The light of her flame flickered in his eyes as he looked up from her palm and into her gaze. He met her honesty with a vast sadness that she wished she could wipe off his soul like mud on skin.
"You've come to get me?" he croaked, unsure and slow. "Take me away?"
Hermione closed the flame in her hand and muttered a warming charm over his clothes. He jumped at the sudden warmth all around him, but Hermione helped to slowly have him sit up. "I've come to rescue you, and take you far far away," she promised, meaning every word and relaying that promise through her eyes. "You will never spend another day here ever again. I swear it."
He shivered, either from the intensity of her voice, or the warmth encasing his body, but he hesitated, then held his thin arms up for her. Exhaustion clearly weighed them down. They were dirty and he smelled of excrement and sweat, but it was the sweetest offer Hermione had ever seen. The tiniest extension of trust.
Very slowly so as not to scare him, Hermione lifted the young boy into her arms.
Bare feet swung from her waist. Scratchy cotton rubbed against her uniform. His shaved head laid against her shoulder. He couldn't have weighed more than three and a half stones. Less than fifty pounds in the American weight system. A severely underweight, scared little boy.
"I've got you," Hermione whispered. Promised. Vowed.
She wandlessly cast more warming charms and held him close, wrapping herself and whatever protection she could give around him. Both soldiers let her cross as she passed the door, and Hermione motioned them to the inside of the scattered office. It was doubtful that any useful information remained, but they would try anyway. Even if it was just the names of the people that had hurt Erik.
Her rage continued to burn just under her skin as she carried Erik out of the office, both never to return again.
February 3rd, 1945 - Auschwitz, Poland
Although there were no other whispers of special individuals being held within Auschwitz, Hermione, Joey, Daniel, and Erik stayed within the camp and rescue center for another week after liberation.
Hermione did rounds of the Gemino Charm for the supplies that were needed nearly every day. Joey and Daniel would stand guard outside the cars after she had explained to them her 'gift' with magic, and Erik would watch with wide eyes at the use of her wand and her muttered spells. Hermione also utilized her nursing skills to help the hundreds dying of refeeding syndrome, and all together, the four of them helped the ex-prisoners by writing letters to locate their family and friends around the world.
She felt a little guilty at not staying and helping the other nurses and doctors within the camp for longer, but reinforcements had been ordered, and Hermione's mission had been completed. The only reason she'd stayed so long here anyway was because of how fragile Erik's health was. Treating his malnutrition was a long and ongoing process, and bouts of extreme exhaustion were still common enough to stay her decision for several days. He simply would not be able to handle walking, sleeping, eating, and moving in the time that Hermione and others would have to make.
Unfortunately, Armin Zola was still a threat, and it created a very tense timetable. Hermione had heard no word from the SSR about their upcoming interception plan, and all three soldiers were anxious to return.
By the seventh day, Hermione determined that Erik was as healthy as he was going to get with the medical supplies available. He was walking and talking more than he had been previously, he wasn't throwing up his meals anymore, and he could stay awake for most of the day without taking a significant nap in the middle. Hermione would have to find him a permanent hospital bed when they returned to the SSR base with Steve and Colonel Phillips, but for now, she felt that the warming charms and protein-rich broth would be enough for travel.
So, after gathering her team and what little extra information they had managed to find from the medical offices, Hermione reported their cover story of Erik being the child of a political leader to the Soviets, and their small group left the deadliest concentration camp in history.
When they began the long drive back to the airport, Hermione watched Erik turn and study the horrible buildings of his past as they trailed behind them. Eventually, they blinked out of sight and her mouth curved into a smile when Erik turned back to her with wide eyes. "Where now?" he asked softly.
Hermione took his hand in hers, and then smiled a little wider when he let her hold him. Slowly, ever so slowly, he was beginning to trust her. "First, back to an SSR base with me. We need to get you big and healthy again," she answered. "Then when you're feeling better, we'll take a look at training how to control your gifts."
"Will you be there?" he asked.
She nodded. "Every step of the way."
For his recovery. His training. At this time she was the only one, with not only the SSR but all of the American government, who had experience in training a specialized individual like Steve. She would help guide Erik in whatever might come next.
This answer seemed to please him because his fingers curled tighter around hers. "And then?"
That was a great question. Hermione wasn't sure yet. A permanent home set up through the SSR most likely, but she didn't have that sort of information figured out yet. It wasn't like there was a school or home that the SSR could send a specially powered person to like she had done with Hogwarts. "When I find out, I'll let you know. For now, you're stuck with me I'm afraid."
The corners of his mouth turned up. He leaned more fully against her and ducked his head. "I'd like that," he murmured.
A burning sensation filled her chest, something she could only loosely name as protective consideration, and she folded her arm around his shoulders. "Me too," Hermione whispered back, her words swept away with the rush of the passing wind. Perhaps it was something stronger than consideration. "Me too."
February 5th, 1945 - SSR camp Vipiteno, Italy
When their plane landed, it was midafternoon. The newest SSR camp was located a few miles west of the city Vipiteno in northern Italy, amongst the densely wooded slopes of the Alps. Northern Italy was much warmer than Poland this time of year and offered no snow, but heavy gusts of damp wind still slid through their clothes and chilled them to the bone. Erik in particular was shaking beneath his layers and warming charms.
Hermione immediately lifted the boy into her arms before they walked out to the new camp, and he tucked his head under her chin.
Shouts of greeting were cut off as Hermione made her way into the much smaller SSR camp. It looked as if there were only a total of fifty tents set up here instead of the nearly 300 previous, but she could still feel the dozens of questioning eyes at the boy bundled in her arms. Peggy and Bucky stood up from their prospective seats, confusion crossing their faces as she passed and they followed after her.
Hermione waved Joey and Daniel off, clearing them for debrief, and they both split towards the constructed mess hall. She'd bet they wanted a full meal not made of broth and bread before they found their way back to Colonel Phillips.
It didn't take her long to find the field hospital with the large red cross outside the front opening. She made her way inside, greeted the Doctor and other two nurses, and laid Erik down on an open cot.
He shivered again, and Hermione silently cast a warming charm over him as Bucky and Peggy came in after her. They stared at the boy with widening eyes, and Bucky's jaw dropped. "He's-" he started, disgusted and mournful, "-he's just a kid."
Erik flinched.
Hermione swallowed her annoyance and gently laid her hands over his smaller ones. "Erik," she said softly, and he peeked at her from under his lashes. "These are my friends, Agent Carter, and Lieutenant Bucky Barnes. They're here to help you too, just like me. Isn't that wonderful?"
Erik's hands fisted over his chest, white-boned and tense. No, it didn't look like he thought it was at all.
Hermione sighed and motioned for both adults to give her some space. They did so, retreating to the front of the tent with the Doctor and the other two nurses with them, leaving Hermione and Erik alone. She sat down next to him on the cot.
Erik's hand unclenched, and Hermione swept a finger across his forehead lightly, then down his cheek. He sighed and relaxed. She bit her lip at his response, so proud of the little touches he was allowing her to do. They had come such a long way from him flinching when she'd stand or turn to look at him too quickly when they first got to know one another. "There," she said and smiled warmly. "Much better. Just you and me for now."
He seemed to think this might have been some kind of admonishment because he drew his eyebrows together in shame. "I'm sorry," he whispered. His eyes lowered.
It was such a powerful word for a child who had only known fear. He looked so lost. Lonely and disheartened as he interpreted her kindness. She blinked rapidly from the sudden blurring of her vision. "Don't be," she assured as soft as she could. "It's okay to be afraid."
He looked at her doubtfully.
"True courage exists in the presence of fear, not in the absence of it. It just means you're doing something very brave when you rise up and face whatever it is. Even if it's just meeting new people."
His eyes glistened with unshed tears as he looked back up. "You really think so?" he asked reluctantly.
"I know so." Hermione's thumb rested against the skin on the inside of his arm, where his prisoner number would forever be tattooed into his skin. "And I know that you've been very brave for a very long time now. I think that it would be okay to want to just sit here for a moment if you'd like. We can let the world outside go on without us for a little while if you want?"
It was important that he had the choice. To either ask for her comfort or to continue on alone.
He hesitated for a moment less than she expected him to. "If you-" he held onto her hand tighter and breathed as deep as he could, gathering his courage. "Stay. Please. Maybe show me some more of your magic?"
Hermione smiled and watched as her agreement settled like a warm blanket over his features. It cheered him immensely, and he gave her a shy smile in return, a secret shared between just the two of them. "But first, you must eat," she whispered lightly, playfully with a caress to the side of his head.
He needed small meals to counter his malnutrition, but with twice the regularity of normal times. He was currently due a small snack after their plane ride.
She also needed to update either the Colonel or Peggy with their situation. And to see her fiance. Then get an update on Zola.
He groaned, full of childish complaint as if it was a mark against his pride. "But I'm not hungry!" he fussed.
She laughed, so blatantly happy he was acting even mildly like a child, and shook her head. "But food you'll eat anyways!" she called back with cheer. "And maybe when we're done, I'll see if I can get someone to bring us something sweet for dessert. What do you think?"
He bit the inside of his lip. "Like- like chocolate?" he asked quietly as if it was another secret.
"Maybeee," she answered slowly with a widening grin. "Let me see, yes? I'm going to step right outside the tent for the food and a chat with my friends you met earlier." His mouth twisted into a frown and tensed, but she continued on. "No one is going to come in except me while I'm gone, would that be alright?"
His face went smooth like reflecting glass, and Hermione watched as he retreated back into the shell he used against the world. She almost called the whole thing off, hating the way it transformed him, but he gave a small incline of his head in the next moment. The smallest of agreements.
She took the meager opportunity provided and stood up from his cot. "I will be right back, I promise," she said.
He nodded shallowly as she turned and headed for the opening. Before she exited, she looked over her shoulder and met his gaze. "Bravery," she called, "for just a little longer."
His brows unfurrowed, thinking it over, and then nodded slowly.
Hermione smiled, then watched as it gave the boy some sort of inner determination as she left their hideaway. When the tent door flapped close behind her, her eyes widened and she stopped. Circling the front of the medical entrance was her team. Steve, the rest of the current Commandos, Peggy, Daniel, and Colonel Phillips.
Stark was absent, but it didn't really surprise her. He must have elected to stay back in Belgium with the bigger base, or maybe even back to England at headquarters. Either way, he wasn't here anymore, and Hermione buried the hurt and grief turning her chest deep, deep down.
"You want to tell me why I've got a doctor and two nurses that say they can't come back to their space of work, Agent?" the Colonel started off, rough and blunt. His arms were crossed over his chest, displeasure clear in the tension of his stance.
She nearly reared back in response. After the sort of week she'd had, this was not what she'd been expecting, or needed. Bitterness and anger straightened her spine.
She flicked an eyebrow up in return. "Would you like to explain to me why a traumatized nine-year-old boy can't have a bit of peace for a few hours?" she spoke sharply back. Her eyes narrowed at the Colonel.
Silence reigned amongst her team, fresh and haunting like the crack of a whip.
"Is someone actively dying?" she snapped. "Is there a need for someone in there at this precise moment or are we all just looking for something to point and goggle at?"
No one said anything back. Perhaps they were too stunned to form a reply as Hermione was not the type for such cheek.
"I thought not," she spat, and then clenched her teeth.
Truthfully, she was not angry with the Colonel or the team, she was just angry. Angry and frustrated, and ultimately very sad. The world could be a dark place, but it was always so much worse when that darkness took children. Seeing and being around Erik for the past week, who should never have had to deal with any of this, was a perfect example of the ugly darkness in the world and all because he was Jewish.
"Lord Almighty," Gabe cursed. "The kid's nine?"
Like his admission was the last straw of Hermione's carried weight, her shoulders fell in defeat and she nodded tiredly. "He looks even younger because of the malnutrition he suffered. He should be taller and weigh much more for a boy his age."
"What did they do to him?" Bucky asked. His brows were furrowed over his darkened eyes, face twisted once more in disgust and hatred. Of them all, Bucky had the strongest firsthand knowledge of how terrible the other side could be. It must have been even worse knowing that such atrocities were bestowed on a child who hadn't even hit double digits in age yet.
Hermione sighed, very aware of the growing violent charge in the air. "He was an experiment in a place where they don't care who dies. From what I can tell of the evidence we found left in his room, it's not a matter of what they did, but of what they didn't," she answered honestly. A shocked and grieving silence fell among them. "He was there for over a year, and he survived much longer than he probably should have, most likely only because they wanted to continue their experiments on such a specially powered individual."
The horror of what that must have meant was not lost on the arranged crowd. It was incomprehensible to think about, let alone to say out loud.
"Did they find what they were looking for?" Colonel Phillips asked, breaking the silence. It was a hard question, but something they needed to confirm as an intelligence division.
She shook her head. "Yet to be determined. The Nazi party seemed to be looking at how he was gifted with powers in his blood and DNA. I don't think they found anything concrete, but it might be as if it's connected to his emotions. When he gets angry or distressed, his powers react." Very little documentation had been found as most had been destroyed before they got there, but enough had been collected for Hermione to put together an idea of what the Nazis were looking for.
And as of yet, Erik had not provided any demonstration of his abilities to Hermione, so she had no idea if they were right or wrong.
"And what exactly are his 'powers'?" the colonel asked.
"Magnetism or magnetokinesis of some sort," Daniel answered, speaking up. "From the information found, maybe even some type of metal manipulation or morphing."
"The kid messes with metal?" Gabe questioned.
"What, like that's not enough?" Jim said back.
Hermione simply nodded. "The true extent of his abilities is still unknown, but the room they held him in was made completely of plastic and fabric. From the scraps of burned notes we managed to find, he's able to do something in that range and can be very powerful when doing so."
"Have you seen evidence of this yourself?" Peggy asked.
Another good question, something that any SSR Agent should ask, but it dug sharply under Hermione's skin.
He was a little boy who had been used and abused by the world. They should not be here to question if they needed to further exploit his extraordinary gift. He needed to get well.
"Not from first-hand experience, no. In the week we've been together, no one has seen him do anything like that as of yet." Hermione searched the group, and her anger rose unchecked through her body, leaking into her response. "However, I don't think he's mentally or physically ready to just sit down and perform as instructed. Not like his previous captors did. Especially not as he is now."
Her tone was sharp. Acidic. Even Hermione could tell it sounded protective.
Gabe frowned. "Hey now, no one said anything about-"
"Quiet," Colonel Phillips commanded softly. There was a pregnant pause before the leader of their division cleared his throat. "Agent Granger-," he called gruffly. "- walk with me. The rest of you, scram. Allocate the medical officers to a different post for now."
Hermione was under no illusions as to why she was going to get a one-on-one. Before she followed after the Colonel, she turned to Steve. "You stand guard and let no one in, do you understand?" she asked quickly.
His brows creased forwards. "But, Hermione -"
"I made a promise," she interrupted, looking him hard in the eye. "I told him that no one was going to come in except me while I was gone and that I would be right back for him. It was a promise, Steve, and I need you to hold it up for me until I come back."
Blue eyes burned into her, back and forth like he was searching for an answer, before he nodded and stepped closer to the tent opening. Resolute in his new station and commanding in front of the hospital entrance. "Your promises are mine," he nodded. "No one gets in but you."
Relief flushed through her, and she leaned forwards on her toes to give him a heated kiss square on the mouth. "Thank you," she whispered.
Turning away before he could say anything back, Hermione called out to her disappearing team. "And someone get me a cup of hot broth and a piece of chocolate!"
"Aye-Aye!" Frenchy answered with a salute without turning back around.
"Ma'am yes, ma'am!" Happy Sam echoed from somewhere farther on.
Hermione gave Peggy a quick smile as she passed to catch up to the Colonel and recognized that they would be walking around the campsite, checking on the sentries during their conversation.
"Sir?" she questioned as a soldier saluted them from up a posting tree.
His serious gaze wandered the forest surrounding them before answering. "I can't imagine what you must have seen over there, Agent Granger. And quite frankly, I don't care to know," Colonel Phillips started, clasping his hands behind his back.
Hermione ducked her head to keep from exploding with the anger churning through her, and followed his posture. "Yes, sir," she bit out.
He eyed her for a moment, taking in her sour response, before continuing on. "What I do care about is winning this war, does that make sense?"
She forced herself to breathe out. "Yes, sir."
"Good, because I need to know if I can trust that you have your head in the right place on this," he said, stepping over a fallen log.
She didn't answer.
"I let you go off and play nurse before, when the days got rough and the guilt become too much during the production of Midnight Oil. I did that against my better judgment I should add, so that you could come to grips with being a leader. You were meant to learn that loss is hard, but it's part of life. Most don't even get the time to understand that. They're just shoved to the front and have to deal."
A cold chill passed down her back. "Sir, I-"
"In your time with the SSR you've proven yourself capable of doing extraordinary things, magic and time jumping notwithstanding, but it was not my intention to let you go do all that just so you could turn around and play rodeo by jumping onto every bandwagon that passes by," he interrupted swiftly.
Heat flushed her cheeks, and seething flames burned just under her chest. "Erik is not a bandwagon and I am not a cowgirl looking for a cause," Hermione snapped.
Colonel Phillips came to a stop, and Hermione paused at his side. The trees surrounding them seemed to loom, and the shadows grew darker. She pulled her shoulders back and met him head-on without regret.
"Erik is a nine-year-old boy. A human being who has no place to go and no one to look out for him," Hermione continued passionately. "He is a child who trusts nothing in this world because all it's ever done is hurt and betray him. Do you want to know what we found in the bits of information scattered in the prison they abandoned him to die in? Where he was before he came to Auschwitz, the deadliest concentration camp in recorded history?" she asked, voice getting louder. "He was living in a condemned ghetto for three years where his father was murdered in front of his eyes and then buried in a mass grave he helped to drag together. Can you even imagine that? And while he was growing up, learning how the world worked, his neighbors were ousting and beating his family into poverty and then subjugation for the Nazi party. Treated so much worse than even a second-class citizen, and he wasn't even old enough for primary school yet. Throughout the handful of years he's been on this planet, his whole life, has been nothing but filled with fear and death and chaos."
Her hands were shaking, but it was the blurring of her vision that really pushed her over the edge.
"So don't stand there and tell me that giving a damn is the wrong thing to do here because it's not. He deserves at least the bare minimum of kindness. For someone to stand up for him for once in his life and tell the world to damn itself because he is not a prize or a specimen to be studied for what he couldn't help but be born with. And by Merlin! If that person has to be me, then so be it." Her jaw trembled and tears leaked from the corners of her eyes. "I will not let you, the Nazis, the SSR, or any of the Allied governments, touch him. He is a child and he just needs help."
She hadn't realized her voice had gotten louder the more she spoke, and that she was effectively crying and yelling at the Colonel. She could feel the hidden eyes of the sentries around them, and she lowered the volume of her outrage.
The Colonel remained silent across from her.
From within the cold rational side of her brain, she noted the tears and exploding emotion with disdain. This was exactly the type of situation men in this time period looked down on women for, and she was showcasing it to her whole camp. Crying, going against orders, being a nuisance and a burden to the mission.
Internalized misogyny most likely, but the thought was there all the same.
Hermione shook her head, swiping at her tears, and bore a deep breath. "I'm sorry if it seems like I'm getting in the way of SSR business on this, but I don't think this war is won with just soldiers and violence. Not in the long run. Erik needs to heal, fully and away from people wanting to poke at him again. We cannot be as monstrous as our enemies or it will make us exactly like them."
Her biggest concern coming back to the SSR was the thought of trading Erik from one prison to another. A line had to be drawn somewhere before that was allowed to happen.
"Engaging negatively with any subject who has an emotionally driven response is bad news," Colonel Phillips answered conversationally, turning from her and beginning their walk again. Hermionie followed after him, nearly stumbling. That was not what she had been expecting as a response. "If the boy is as powerful as you seem to think, it would be in the SSR's best interest to not provoke a poor outcome on our end. Take the time to foster some trust. Wouldn't you agree?"
She had always had a knack for reading through people's political garbage, and this was no different. It was an olive branch. Perhaps even a full win in Hermione's books. The SSR wouldn't touch Erik.
At least, not yet. She had time.
"I would, sir. Absolutely," she voiced levelly.
"Well, good," he answered, and lowly. He narrowed his eyes and took a deep breath like he was coming to a decision, and Hermione tensed. "Seeing as how the boy has already made an emotional connection to an SSR Agent currently in employ, I'd say we put a pin in this conversation and come back to it another day," he continued gruffly, and Hermine nodded cautiously along. "In the meantime, the boy's your responsibility."
"Yes, sir," Hermione answered automatically, filling with relief. She had already known that she was going to mentor him with the SSR. If it meant that she would be the only mentor, then it would also mean that only she would have an input on the pace of his learning as well. That was fine, as she doubted she could give power of his education to someone else after all they had been through.
"You don't understand me, Agent Granger," Colonel Phillips stated. "He will be your complete responsibility. Food, housing, training, education, and emotional needs."
Hermione's whole world stopped. Then turned on its axis, and stopped again. "But that-"
"Means you'll be less teacher and more guardian, yes."
So many things were wrong with that statement, and yet, it made the only absolute sense as well. Pros and cons automatically tallied themselves through her mind like the flickering of a light bulb.
She was an Agent on the field in the middle of the largest War of their time. She did not have the extra energy or allotment to devote herself fully to another individual.
She was the only one other than the Beastly Brothers who had experience in being fundamentally different for Erik's eventual training. Also, she had made room for Steve in her life and was a perfect example that it could be done yet again if she needed to. It would simply be a matter of evaluating schedules. Mostly.
Her life was dedicated to researching and stopping Johann.
That was not all she was, she had found time to become a nurse too, hadn't she? Why not something more again?
She could die any day.
They could all die any day.
She was not ready to be a guardian to a child. A mother.
Hermione paused on that last thought.
Not ready to be a mother? Where had that come from? That was not the resolution she had been actively looking for. And rightly so! She may be physically in her thirties now, but she was not ready to be a mother to another human being for some time!
But then, whoever truly is?
The Colonel watched her internal struggle from the corner of his eye as they continued on. At some point, they had turned back to camp, and the tents were suddenly not that far ahead. He huffed a throaty breath, catching her attention, and then frowned. "This was not a suggestion Agent Granger, it was an order. When this is all over, he'll be on the same plane back to the states as you."
Hermione's brain hadn't really come to terms yet. It meant so much change. Things she hadn't ever counted on, and probably wouldn't either until it was too late. For Merline sake, she was only newly engaged! That gave her greater pause. Steve. "I'll have to tell Steve," she stated, numb.
Colonel Phillips trailed along beside her, completely at ease, as if her whole life hadn't been flipped upside down. "While you're at it, will you send back Agent Sousa and Major Falsworth? From what I understand, they'll be needing a deeper debrief after whatever happened in Poland."
She blinked. How had she forgotten? More people who knew more of her secrets.
"I … I will, sir," she managed and continued to the tents as he fell behind near his tent.
"Oh, and Agent Granger?"
Hermione turned back. "Yes, sir?"
"Congratulations. It's a boy."