I have edited the last chapter (CH 22: Origin of Magneto) as of 9/25/21, as I found it to be a bit choppy and it didn't meet my (personal) expectations for tone and character development.

I do not have a Beta for this fic, so all mistakes are my own. If you would like to reread before continuing on, be aware that there are some slight differences!

February 5th, 1945 - SSR camp Vipiteno, Italy

Hermione was strangely numb as she made her way back to Steve. As she approached, a warmth rushed her chest when she noticed his vigilance outside the hospital tent door. It didn't look like he'd moved an inch.

He stood tall, back straight and powerful in the high altitude with a bowl of steaming broth in his hands. A small piece of wrapped chocolate was held between his fingers to the side, and the sight made her smile.

When he heard her footsteps and looked up, he smiled back and showed off the contents of his hands. The depth of his gaze was overpowering and endless to Hermione, so filled with love, and light, and all that was good in this world. "I've got the food you ordered," Steve announced, "but I stayed out of the tent until you were back. I don't think Erik would have appreciated my presence, food or not."

She came to his side and got to her tiptoes to give him a kiss on the cheek. His skin was warm in the winter air, and she could smell the distinct scent of his hair pommel, gunpowder, and freshly turned ground after a hard rain. The things she was starting to associate him with during this SSR side of Steve. "That's probably a good thing" she answered, taking the food from his hands. "I told him no one but me would be back for him, and he needs to be able to trust someone more than anything at this point." She hesitated, thinking over Colonel Phillips's new orders and how this child was not only going to affect her life, but his as well moving forwards.

How did one tell their newly agreed fiance that they now effectively had a child to rear? They hadn't even had the discussion of children yet.

She sighed and looked away. Steve frowned and tipped her chin upwards with the crook of his finger. They met gazes, and Hermione struggled with her words.

"What is it?" he asked, eyes searching between her own.

She bit the inside of her lip and watched as Steve's eyes followed the movement. "It's-" she stopped herself. Gods and goddesses, she didn't know how to do this. "Would you like to meet him, Erik?" she asked instead softly.

It wasn't what she wanted to say, and the look in Steve's eyes let her know that he knew it too, but he nodded anyway. The hand under her chin came to the side of her neck, and his warmth spread all the way to her toes. His eyes were kind and patient, but the small crease between his eyebrows showed his worry. "Was it Phillips?" he questioned.

Yes and no. Partly and none at all, Hermione thought. She blinked rapidly, trying to find the words. "It's under his orders, yes, but I also somewhat volunteered as well. It's - well, it's a lot," she confessed. "And I don't know how you'll react."

The crease on his forehead grew deeper. "You're worried how I'll feel about the Colonel's orders?" he repeated.

She met his gaze seriously. "It'll change our lives," she said.

Confusion passed over his face, and his hands dropped to the back of her shoulders, nearly hugging her to him. Comforting even in his disorientation. "Tell me," he said.

Hermione gathered her courage and tried to put her thoughts into words. "Erik is much younger than expected," she started and shook her head. "Our intel suggested that he was fifteen, nearly sixteen in the camps instead of the nine, nearly eight years old that he really is. Factoring in the abuse he suffered while in Germany and then in the camps, and how his emotions trigger his powers, the SSR is not equipped to deal with the emotional ramifications that will be present during their training or investigation into his powers. He is not old enough to really understand what he's been through, and without proper care, that could be very bad not only for him in the future but for the world if he really is as powerful as the Nazis predicted."

"He needs to heal," Steve summed up carefully.

"Yes, physically and emotionally," Hermione answered. "With people that he can trust, and learn how to care for again."

Steve understood and his eyes grew kind. "So an SSR base will be out of the question like originally planned. He'll need a home. A real place to grow up."

She nodded and carefully swallowed through her dry mouth. This was it. She had to tell him. "With someone that can understand and physically react to any- outburst that might occur," she revealed. "Who is already aware of this side of the world and committed to the SSR."

Her words sunk into Steve, and she could physically see when the comprehension of the situation became real. His eyes widened, and his head snapped back an inch like he was looking at her for the first time. "You. You're the volunteer, the Agent," he started with a loosening jaw and blinked rapidly. "Of course it would be, you'd be the best fit for it all. The most eligible to help. You..." He paused, seeming to think over her words, and his hands wrapped around her upper arms. Holding her outward, and close, in the same moment. "But that means- that's more than just a full-time gig, Hermione. He'll need everything for that kind of setup. He'd be like a-"

Hermione nodded with him. "He'll be a dependent in all ways. Food, water, living arrangement, education, and love," she explained.

There was a moment of silence, and then-

"Adoption," he concluded lowly. "Erik will be your son." Amazement and surprise colored his voice.

She nodded again, studying his face as she continued on. "Yes, if he agrees, Colonel Phillips will get it cleared and he will come back with me after the end of the War." She paused and then said what she was most afraid of. "To our home. With us."

Steve's eyes had wandered to the side of Hermione's head, thoughts far away through her explanation but they jerked back at her words. "Us?" he repeated.

He became so still that his only movement was the slow up and down of his shoulders as he breathed. Hermione moved the bowl of broth and chocolate to one hand and used the other to reach out and hold his limp fingers. She squeezed lightly.

"It's a lot to ask," she circled back to the beginning of their conversation. "And you don't have to decide right now, but-" Her howling fears of rejection, and worry, and the anxiety of this moment seemed to close her voice and rise over her head, drowning her.

She looked away and fought to continue on. "I agreed to marry you because I love you, and I wanted to start the rest of our lives together," she said. "To build everything as partners and to one day perhaps start our own family."

He looked at her with an unreadable expression, caught between shock and astonishment.

Hermione hurried on. "I know we haven't discussed what that will look like yet, but I want you to know that if you wanted," she paused. "Then I want it with you. For us."

"A son," Steve said. His eyebrows came together, and Hermione could see the thoughts racing through his head. Probably going over every good and bad point as she had, like the master strategist that he was.

"He's just a little boy," Hermione whispered before he went too deep. "A child with no one left in this world and given a terrible burden for someone so young. But he has such a heart, Steve. Despite all that he's been through, he would amaze you at how much love he's capable of."

Steve studied her, taking in her words, and his fingers answered her squeeze. "You want this." It was less of a question and more of an understanding.

Hermione did want this, confusing as her feelings were, but she didn't want Steve to feel as if she were forcing him to want this as well. This was not an ultimatum. Honestly, it could be an opportunity. She sighed. "I don't know how I'll do it, but I want to try."

His other hand went softly to cup the side of her neck. His touch relaxed her, and she melted under him. The corners of his mouth turned up, looking a little smug, and a blush covered her cheeks before he could answer back. They were back to them, Hermione could feel, back as partners and figuring this out together.

Steve's finger made a soft circling motion behind her ear at her hairline, and he relaxed along with her. "We're in the middle of a war," he stated. Not fighting her decision, but said as a reminder.

"The whole world is," she replied softly.

His lips pressed together. "We live in a moving military camp. It's no home."

She nodded sadly. "It's better than where he was. And we'll figure it out from there."

"He might not even like me."

Worried blue eyes sliced right to her heart, and Hermione felt like her chest was expanding at the amount of love that filled her with that simple confession. "He doesn't know you yet, but when he does, he'll love you," she answered gently. The quiet vulnerability in Steve softened. "It's quite impossible not to love everything about you, Mr. Rogers. I would know," she smiled.

His answering shy smile swept the breath right from Hermione's lungs, and she struggled with the growing waves of happiness, relief, and adoration for the man standing before her. His answer for accepting Erik and that relationship wasn't a yes, perhaps, but it was an admission to try alongside her.

It was a start, and Merlin above if it didn't make her fall in love with him all over again.

Steve's eyes dropped to the rapidly cooling broth in her hands and motioned to the small bit of wrapped chocolate. "Do you think I could be the one to give him that?" he asked.

Hermione gave it over without thought and nearly laughed at his enthusiasm as he accepted the small gift. "Ready when you are," he reported bravely, pulling back his shoulders and motioning for her to enter first.

Hermione grinned and kissed him on the cheek. She turned around and opened the tent flap, face lifting into a soft smile when she saw Erik still in his bed, waiting for her. Steve followed in behind, and she saw Erik tense at the new soldier.

"Erik," she said softly and moved to sit beside his bed. She put his bowl of soup in his hands and felt Steve crouch at the cot beside her. "I want to introduce you to someone very special to me, okay?"

Erik's small hands came around the bowl, and Hermione wandlessly put a warming charm on not only the soup, but around Erik himself. The young boy's eyes widened at the blatant use of magic, and his head snapped to Steve, looking for his reaction.

Steve grinned lightly in response, open in his acceptance and support for her difference. Erik stared.

"Erik," she said again, and his eyes turned to her, hesitating at the warmth from both of the adults. Hermione put a hand over his forearm and willed him to understand the depth of her care for him.

The ice of his blue eyes defrosted some as he studied her, and he quickly glanced once more to Steve before focusing back entirely on her. "The man beside me is someone I love very much," she explained. "He'll be around almost as much as me, and he would very much like to meet you. Would that be okay?"

Erik was frozen, looking somewhere between wanting to make her happy and viscerally not wanting anything to do with the man beside her.

Hermione squeezed his arm gently. "Courage," she reminded him.

His eyes dropped. Something in him must have shifted, Hermione could tell, because when he looked back up, he became softer, and he hesitantly turned to the massive man beside his cot. "Hello," he breathed out. It was shallow, and barely a word at all, but it was there. "My name is Erik."

"Hello, Erik," Steve said, the side of his mouth upturned. "My name is Steve Rogers. It's very nice to meet you."

And with that, Steve offered him the chocolate.

February 13th, 1945 - SSR camp Vipiteno, Italy

Erik slid into the SSR camp life easily.

He was quickly moved into Steve and Hermione's tent, only staying in the camp hospital for one night, but with Steve and Hermione staying with him on either side of his cot, protecting him from the outside world. After that, Hermione magic-ed a little extra room for Erik within their shared tent, and filled it with his own bed, newly tailored clothes to fit his skinny frame, charmed military blankets with extra softness and warmth, and Steve added several charcoal pictures of his that Erik had liked and Hermione magically stuck to his canvas walls.

During the day, he became Hermione's little shadow. Wherever she went, he did now too. When they woke up, Steve, Hermione, and Erik would have breakfast together just the three of them in their tent (Hermione also magically added in a dining room within and made sure that their tent was always closed and magically sealed so that no other soldier could walk in and see the obvious internal dimension issues when she was gone).

Then after breakfast, the three of them would start their day - sometimes in the communication tent where Peggy and Hermione would settle over reports to find out Armin Zola's escape plans, or with the Howling Commandos and other SSR soldiers where the men would offer to teach him about survival techniques or how to clean and put together their weapons. He did not like most men, it became very apparent, and would only sit directly beside Steve, Daniel Sousa, or strangely enough, Bucky. With all others, Erik was standoffish and quiet, but perfectly polite. The men saw this and acted accordingly without Hermione's interference. They had not had an issue yet.

After lunch, Hermione would sit Erik down and have him practice his German, then English letters, and math. He was not ready for any sort of heavy physical activity, but when he was, Hermione planned on adding that in too.

After dinner, Hermione would do her routine health check, and then the evening was open to whatever Erik wanted to do. Sometimes it was to sit quietly and have Steve read him The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, or it was to be next to Hermione and Peggy as they and the Howling Commandos sat around a fire and talked into the night.

If for whatever reason Erik was not with Hermione, he was with the one other person in camp that Erik seemed to like and acted as his personal guard around camp: Army Specialist Jack Fury, the soldier that had once been assigned to look after Hermione. There's was a strange relationship, the African American soldier and the little boy - both shared quiet sessions by walking around the camp and collecting odd bits of sticks, colored rocks, or things of that nature. They didn't speak to each other often, Hermione watched, but when they did Jack was always very kind and Erik very generous with his collected treasure to the older soldier.

The days began to blend together, and after every one of them, Hermione and Steve got to know Erik just that much more. A sweet little boy, with a growing curiosity for the outside world, and a tender heart for all living things.

Hermione was smitten. Steve was genuine and adoring. Erik laughed more.

And together, ever so slowly, they became a weird, unconventional, little family.

February 14th (Valentines Day), 1945 - SSR camp Vipiteno, Italy

"Be careful," Hermione grinned and then kissed Steve on the cheek. "Come back to me in one piece, okay?"

Steve softly caressed the side of her face with the knuckle of his index finger, sending happy shivers down her spine. "Yes, ma'am."

Howling Commandos were loading into jeeps behind Steve to get over the mountain. Armin Zola's transportation had been spotted late the night before and interception was imminent. The early morning was brisk around them and the sun was just beginning to rise. Erik lolled adorably against Hermione's side, tired eyes barely open but determined to see the soldiers off.

Steve got down to Erik's height and put a large hand over his shoulder. Erik peered back at the super-soldier with owlish eyes. "You take good care of her while I'm gone, you hear?" Steve said.

Erik nodded back, wide awake and with the full force of all the seriousness that a nine-year-old could muster. "I will," he promised.

"And eat all your breakfast," Steve smiled, squeezing his shoulder lightly.

Hermione watched as Erik struggled to not roll his eyes, and Steve grinned. "I will," Erik responded.

"Good boy," Steve finished with a full smile, and let go of the boy's shoulder. "I'll see you when I get back, okay? You an' me can try building a fire again if you want."

Erik's eyes lit with excitement. "Promise?"

"Pinky swear," Steve said and held out his hand. Erik stared at him for a moment, before reaching out and hooking his pinky finger around Steve's. They stayed that way, bobbing their hand up and down in their agreement, before Steve pulled back and made to stand up. Before he could, however, Erik rushed forward and threw his skinny arms around Steve's shoulders.

Hermione's jaw dropped. Erik was never the first to initiate physical contact, and certainly not with any men in the past, including Steve.

Steve blinked in surprise, only remaining frozen for a second before he quickly responded and hugged him back.

"Bye, Mr. Steve," Erik mumbled into his shoulder.

Hermione's own heart felt like it grew in her chest, and she watched as Steve's eyes remained wide in surprise and then warmed with soft affection. "Bye buddy," he said back, and they parted.

"Hey now, where's my hug from the little man?" Bucky said, dropping his bag behind Steve and crouching down to Erick's height.

Erik actually did roll his eyes now, causing Bucky to clutch at his chest dramatically. Whether it was from Bucky's time as an older brother at home or some other internal instinct, Bucky and Erik's poor first meeting had been pushed aside after a short time together. Bucky was now affectionately known as 'Uncle Buck' to Erik, and he was the only one that Erik let see his hidden treasures of rocks and sticks collected with Specialist Fury. A serious honor.

Erik stuck his nose in the air pompously, trying very hard not to smile. "No thank you," he declared.

Bucky sat back on his heels. "You hear that Stevey? Your own kid, not saying goodbye to Uncle Buck." He shook his head morosely, and Erik put his fists to his mouth, ineffectively hiding his answering childlike giggle. Bucky narrowed his eyes comically at the sound as Hermione tried to cover her own laughter and he leaned forwards. "Why I oughta... come here you knucklehead!"

Bucky reached for him, but Erik laughed and ducked under his arms, going to Steve.

Steve didn't miss a beat and scooped the boy up, twisting him away from Bucky's hands. Hermione laughed, and she heard the echoing laughter of several others on the team as they watched the first Super Soldier and his best friend dance around each other with a little boy between them.

It filled Hermione's heart.

"Load up gentlemen!" Colonel Phillips called out from the side of camp. It broke the carefree energy leftover from Erik's laugh.

"You heard 'em!" Happy Sam shouted after. "Let's go boys!"

Bucky and Steve stopped their game of keep away and Erik was put back on his feet. Steve rubbed his head and the younger boy didn't even complain. The seriousness of the moment kept away any negative words of complaint. "See you soon bud," Steve said, too quietly for the rest of the passing Commandos or other passing SSR agents to hear.

Bucky lightly tapped the boy's shoulder with his fist. "You be good until we're back. Your m-" Bucky rotated his jaw and swallowed his words. "Hermione's gonna need you."

Hermione paused at the close slip up.

Without waiting for Erik's answer, Bucky noogied his head and jumped away before the impugned young man could retaliate. "Bye kid!"

Erik watched as both Steve and Bucky turned and left to board their transportation, somber and looking much older than his nine years.

She wished she could have made this easier for him, tell him that it was going to all be okay, but she couldn't, could she? Even if she wanted to lie to him about this, should something happen, it would ruin all trust between them. This was War and something he had already been heartbreakingly subjected to. No words of hers could help or stop their fear.

He stepped back into Hermione's arms. She folded him close to her, giving him all the support she could like this. It would have to be enough until their own eyes could see them again. The car doors closed after the SSR soldiers. Hermione's heart squeezed at the sound of the rumbling engines. She felt Peggy stand behind her shoulders.

Then the vehicles were gone, the whoops and cheers meant only for Erik disappeared with the fading shadows of the Commandos, and all was silent.

The cold north wind swept through the camp, and shivers that had nothing to do with winter sent Hermione's skin prickling.

"They will be okay, won't they?" Erik asked, turning from the empty forest to Hermione. His wide blue eyes were serious and Hermione could only hold his shoulder in comfort.

"We can hope so," she answered truthfully.

Peggy sighed behind her, and the rest of camp dispersed into their own roles. Now it was a waiting game, something she had done since the beginning of her time here. Erik had no such history or experience of what this meant. Hermione had not thought of this during her curriculum for her charge, and her heart twisted as his blue eyes cast over the land that the soldiers had disappeared in.

"Let's go read some," Hermione suggested, taking his hand in hers and leading him away.

Erik swallowed. "But, I-"

"They'll want to come back to a clean won't they?" she tried for a smile.

Erik hesitated, clearly looking for something more, then nodded and accepted her words. "Breakfast first?" he asked.

Hermione smiled at the mention of his hunger for food. "Of course," she answered, and gave him a quick kiss on the forehead. He didn't flinch from her and accepted her ministrations with the half-smile that only a young child could give.

Hermione counted it as a win.

February 14th (Valentines Day), 1945 - SSR camp Vipiteno, Italy

It was early evening when the prisoner transport for Armin Zola rolled into base, signifying the success of the mission.

Hermione's heart lifted, her mind already planning for the various outcomes of their future conversations with the German scientist and the information he would give to them. They would finally be able to end this war, she had no doubt. Hydra would fall. Hitler would be next. The war would end, and she would be able to return home to New York with her new little family.

Merlin, she would have a family to return to.

It amazed her every time she thought about it, and that evening was no different.

When the many jeeps and the armored transportation for Zola arrived, Hermione was the first to greet them. Elation lifted her spirits at their obvious win, and she smiled as car doors opened and the Howling Commandos exited their vehicles.

Soon, however, her jubilation fell to worry and then fear. The faces that exited the vehicles were not happy or exhilarated with the capture of Hydra's right-hand man. If anything, they were doused with anger, pain, and grief.

Something had happened while they had intercepted the train. Something, someone had been lost.

Fear encased her heart. She felt as if she couldn't breathe. Where was Steve?

Her eyes scanned passing faces, barely moving over the scrunched-up anger of Armin Zola, taking in the accounted names of her teammates, when she finally saw Steve. His blonde hair was dull and flat against his scalp, his mouth twisted down, and blue eyes shining in loss.

Relief struck her like a striking wave, sudden and enveloping before she could understand what it meant, and her eyes strained for the next figure in her family.

But none else exited the vehicles.

She blinked and recounted the faces that shone under the fading light of the day. Happy Sam Sawyer, Gabe Jones, James 'Joey' Falsworth, Jim Morita, 'Frenchy' Jacques Dernier, Percival 'Pinky' Pinkerton ... Where was...

Her heart stopped and she recounted the faces over again. Desperation and fear crawled up her spine.

Her lips trembled and her eyes watered.

No. God, no.

Where was Bucky?

Where was Bucky?

Faces of her teammates, broken and grieving escorted the German scientist down from the armored car, but Hermione had no mind for him now. Her heart was breaking. Her mind was refusing the evidence before her, and the hot spike of loss, and rage, and anguish took hold of her very being like prey in a snake's vice.

Bucky was not exiting a vehicle, was not among his teammates, and Steve. Hermione's eyes sought him again, and she didn't think she could bare his obvious pain.

His eyes were holes into despair and heartbreak. The tense line of shoulders screamed his heartbreak. Deep lines in his frown echoed his soul retching regret.

He walked to her robotically, lost somewhere deep within himself, and misery set features looked down into her face.

His mouth opened, closed, unable to speak. His eyes were so broken -

Hermione was afraid to ask, because if she did, then it was real. This moment meant the end, and the consequences of this day would echo. She wasn't ready. She couldn't ask. She didn't want to say it out loud.

"Where's Uncle Buck?" the sweet, tired voice of Erik asked, stopping her cold.

Her tired eyes closed, and tears filled with the worst kind of pain tracked down her face into the cold ground below.

I am so, so sorry my dears.