Chapter Text
James could sit under this tree for the rest of his life and he would be perfectly content to live that way. It was a calm spring day, sure the sun was covered by the grey storm clouds, but the rain had yet to drop down to the earth: the wind made the afternoon even more pleasant as the rustling of leaves drifted throughout the rolling hills. There was a bird perched on the branches above, probably a magpie or something of the sort. It would sing a few notes and then quiet itself, taking in the sombre air of the men that rested below the tree.
James took a deep breath, his eyes fluttering shut.
For a faint moment he could believe that he was resting under the tree in his parent’s front yard, that the horrid sounds of battle in the distance were nothing but the rumbling of thunder. Though, James never would have been quite so exhausted if he was still living with his parents: Euphemia and Fleamont Potter would never have allowed that to happen.
But it wasn’t thunder and this wasn’t his parent’s front yard. James was in the middle of a terrible war and there was nothing he could do to get out of it. He settled against the trunk of the tree, arms crossing against his chest. The best he could do for now was to get a bit of rest, God knew he needed it - they all did.
“Black.”
James groaned, his few pitiful moments of sleep being interrupted quite quickly. “Black!” The commanding voice shouted out again. His face contorted into an expression of annoyance as he opened his eyes once more, watching with bleary vision as the man next to him groaned as well - though he hid it much better - and stood to his feet.
Regulus Black. He was another Lance Corporal just as James was; a year or two younger than himself, and much more introverted. His face was thin with striking cheekbones and stark grey eyes that could pour into a man’s soul. Regulus would have been much more imposing if he didn’t have a look of youth about him; he was still untouched by the worst parts of war and James sometimes envied him for it.
Though, he would never say that aloud.
Regulus’ hand was suddenly reaching out towards him. He peered at it with a furrowed brow for a moment, but he took it regardless of the reasoning. James muttered out a thanks, but the other didn’t stay around to listen; he followed the previous man - the one who had awoken the two of them - with an ever present scowl on his face. James thought he could have done with a smile every once in a while, even if it was a fake one, frowning that much could not be healthy.
He brushed off his crumbled uniform and followed the two marching men, fastening the webbing of his supplies.
“Don’t dawdle,” Sergeant grumbled, guiding them through the grasses and down into the trenches.
“No, Sergeant.” Regulus replied, voice as prim and proper as ever. That was something that James never understood about the man: even when the whole world was coming down around him, even when he was in the midst of a charge, he kept his composure, that better-than-thou posture. James believed it to be a bit inhuman if he was being completely honest.
The trenches grew around them until the only thing James saw when he looked to his side was ashen rock and soil.
“Did they feed us?” James asked, trying to break the awkward silence between them.
Regulus shook his head, ever so great at conversation, “Just mail.” He handed the other man a letter before shoving his hands into his trousers’ pockets.
James lit up at the letter, slicing it open and delicately unfolding the paper. Mail was one of his favorite things in the world, which wasn’t something he ever thought he would say, but it was always nice to hear from his family and friends. A smile appeared across his lips as his eyes danced across the page. “Mum and dad are thinking about getting a dog, though mum doesn’t seem to be keen on it.” He quickly read over the rest of the letter, tucking it into the tin in his pocket for protection. James had a nice collection going, some from his parents, a handful from Lily, and a couple from Marlene and Mary. They were some of his most prized possessions and he kept them close to his heart as a reminder that there were people out there to be fighting for.
“Did you get anything?” Regulus shook his head again, “No.” James sighed. In the months that he had known Regulus, the man had never gotten much mail, and at the moment he was going on a month and a half dry spell. On the very rare occasion that he did get a message he always read it quickly before crumpling it up and throwing it away. There was also the afternoon in which he had torn the note to shreds right in front of James, a scowl on his face and red in his eyes.
James never gained the confidence to ask him what was in the letters.
He decided to switch up the conversation, “You’re starving too right? I would have thought that they would be feeding us better, but it seems like I was terribly wrong.” He chuckled at his own horrible joke, glancing over to see if Regulus cracked a smile, but of course the man did not. James sighed heavily, staring back off into the distance.
He felt a tap against his shoulder, “Here.” He turned around, seeing something being held up for him to take. “You can have it.”
“Where’d you find this?” It was just a bit of ham and bread, but James would have done anything for a meal. He took the bread, breaking it in half, and offered the larger piece to Regulus since it had been the man’s own food.
Regulus shrugged, “I have my ways.” The trench began to narrow then; he tried to lighten the mood once more as they pushed past the never ending swarm of people. “Just think, this time next week you’ll be feasting like a king.”
Regulus shook his head and James' heart dropped to his stomach, “No this time; my leave got cancelled.”
James swallowed his words for a moment, soul slightly crushed for the younger man. “You have any idea why?” “Not a clue.”
The world quickly got dark as they passed through tunnels and then blindingly bright as they appeared in the spring once more. This continued a fair amount of times, and James cringed every time the lighting changed. Other soldiers were milling around them, carrying ammunition, crates, clothing, all sorts of things.
James watched intently as the all passed, “Something’s going on.” He peered over to Regulus who had a slight glare in his eye. “Hear anything about a push happening?” A man pushed past them, nearly shoving James to the ground. He watched as the man trailed down the trenches, “Ten bob says we’re going.”
“I’m not taking your bet.”
James smirked, “‘Cos you know I’m right?” The two of them looked over the edge of the trench, right into the expanse of green grass that was sure to be blown to fodder and mud in a few days. That’s how it always went.
Regulus didn’t appear all that bothered, “No, because I know you haven’t got ten bob.” The man continued on his way, following the sergeant that had called him earlier. James stood in a state of shock for a moment; all the time he had known Regulus, he had never heard the other crack such a joke, hell, he never cracked any joke. He hurried along down the trench, ignoring the pointed look from the sergeant.
Regulus was already in steady conversation with the man, asking about what had happened to the “home before Christmas” promise.
The sergeant wasn’t giving any remorse and leaned over the man with a grimy expression, “I’m sorry to disrupt your busy schedule, Black, but the Brass Hats aren’t fancying snow.”
Regulus didn’t look phased at all by the way the man spoke to him - he acted like it was normal. “What a shame, I wanted to enjoy the holiday festivities with the family.” Sarcasm dripped from his tongue like honey, and James found himself absentmindedly wondering how sweet it was. He adored the snarky sense that Regulus had about himself, it was quite endearing once you got to know the man.
The sergeant scoffed and headed down deeper into the trench. James’ heart began to beat heavier in his chest as he realised where they were heading: whatever they were about to be told was going to be important. Engineers muddled about and telegraph wires were strung across the ceiling. “So, what’s the news, Sarge?”
“The Hun have something going on.”
“Any idea as to what?” James really didn’t appreciate the vague comments. He had not been woken up from his peaceful slumber just to be left in the dark about everything.
They rounded a corner and were at the mouth of the Dugout. “I’m sure it’ll ruin your weekend plans.” The sergeant had a hand raised over the doorknob. “Do try to tidy up, Moody is inside, boys.” James suddenly went ramrod straight, even Regulus appeared a bit more on edge then previous. “Don’t muck it up.”
The sergeant opened the door, and James tried his best to straighten out his uniform, praying that the General wouldn’t find something to hate him for. Regulus needn’t do anything of course, the man somehow always appeared perfect - there was never a piece of uniform out of place, nor was there a single strand of hair that hung about loosely. Everything about him was perfect and bright.
James swallowed down the thought.
The Dugout was lit with paraffin lamps, the low lighting messing with James’ eyes even farther. The two men stood at attention, backs straight and arms at their sides. General Moody stood before them, though he paid no attention to the new arrivals. His one-eyed gaze was heavy on the map laid out in front of him, covered in red marks and makeshift trench lines.
“Lance Corporals Black and Potter, Sir.” The sergeant announced.
General Moody turned around, and James found his heart beating even quicker. He hadn’t seen the General in person in quite a while, but he would never get used to that rock solid expression, the stony gaze that could peer into men’s past, present, and futures. “Which one’s Black?”
Regulus stepped forward, “Me, Sir.”
The General gave him a one over before returning back to his map, “You’re brother, Lieutenant in the second Devons?”
James watched in abject horror as Regulus’ face went paler, even paler than it typically was. The man that he adored for never breaking suddenly looked terrified at the mention of his brother. “Yes, Sirius Black, is he-” “Alive,” Regulus visibly relaxed, “as far as I’m aware. You’re going to help ensure that.” Regulus’ expression tightened, jaw clenching: he looked as though he could take on the world, that nothing would stop him from fulfilling that duty.
“You’re good with maps?”
“Yes, Sir.” His voice was slightly shaky, nothing that the General or the pissed off sergeant could tell, but James had spent enough time with the other man to know when he wasn’t one hundred percent.
“Well then,” General Moody stepped to the side, the map now on full display. Various coloured lines spread across the paper in a nauseating pattern. “You are here,” he struck a finger down on the map, “And the second Devon’s are heading here.” He pointed to the Croisilles Wood. “How long will that take you to get there?”
James watched Regulus scrutinise the map for a few moments before throwing in the towel, “I don’t understand-”
“That land is held by Germans.” James interrupted, the room suddenly going silent. He mentally cursed himself for acting a fool in front of the General.
Thankfully, Moody didn’t look that upset, “The German’s are gone.” James thought it was a reason to celebrate, “Don’t get your hopes up, its a strategic withdrawal. There’s a new line, nine miles back, by the looks of it.” He watched the man trace a winding red line. “Colonel Dumbledore is in command of the second. He sent word he plans to head after the retreating Germans. He’s convinced his plan will work.” General Moody looked up, his steely eye putting James on edge, “He is wrong.”
James felt sweat begin to form on the back of his neck as he thought about what General Moody could say next. “Come here boys, three miles deep there’s fortifications and defences to which we’ve never seen. The second will attack after dawn tomorrow, they have no clue what is going to happen, since the enemy,” he pointed to the wires tangled above them, “decided to cut the telephone lines.”
Neither man said a word as General Moody continued to speak, “You will get to the second at the Wood, a mile southeast of Ecoust,” he handed a sealed envelope to Regulus, “You will give this to Colonel Dumbledore to call off the attack.” His voice lowered, but even at a whisper the words were loud as bombs. “If you fail, there will be a massacre. Sixteen hundred men, you’re brother among them, will be lost.”
Regulus clenched his jaw, fighting to hide his emotions, but James could do no such thing. The idea that so many men would be lost at once rang through him. “Can you get the message there in time?” “Yes, Sir.” Regulus said; he spoke with utter conviction, but James wasn’t so sure.
“Questions?” “None sir.” James looked at him like he was mad, but Regulus didn’t return his gaze - his storm grey eyes darkened.
“Good. Take ‘em Lieutenant." The men saluted and Regulus and James were carted off to get supplies. They got quite the lecture from the Lieutenant as they packed their bags, but most of it went in one ear and out the other. James couldn’t believe that they were about to do this, that they were about to cross over into No Man’s Land, and then straight into enemy territory.
It was a suicide mission.
“They’ll see us, sir.” James expressed, heart beating heavy in his ears.
“Don’t be so concerned.” The grin the Lieutenant offered did not calm James’ racing heart nor thoughts. They were ushered towards the doorway, but James stopped before they could leave, “Is it just us, Sir?” He asked General Moody, desperately hoping that the answer would be a resounding ‘of course not!’
The General looked up, “Down to Gehenna or up to the Throne, He travels fastest who travels alone.”
James swallowed down his fear, or, at least attempted to.
“Regulus, you are mad, absolutely, horribly, mad!”
James was practically running after Regulus. The other was storming off, pushing past lines of people, going through the wrong trenches, anything he could do to get to the surface quicker. The worst part was that he was not thinking logically at all.
“No, Potter, I am not mad.” He stormed off faster, fastening his bag tighter against his back.
“Regulus!” They were rushing through the trenches, “We should talk about this, before we go running off to our deaths!”
Nothing James said stopped the man, who was moving faster than he ought to have, “There’s no time to think, it’s my brother.”
James ran after the man, already sucking in heavy breaths, “We should at least wait until it’s night-”
“Moody said to leave immediately.” James thought he was about to go mad as well at Regulus’ refusal to see reason, “Moody has no idea what No Man’s Land is like! We won’t make it even three metres out there let alone-”
“The Germans are gone.” Regulus responded briskly.
James stopped in his steps, baffled at what he was hearing, “When why do we have grenades!”
They trudged through another trench, knocking into far more people and getting far more crude comments for it. “I’m saying we should wait.”
Regulus’ gaze hardened, face contorting to near anger, “You would say that since it’s not your brother out there.”
They popped to the surface and James reached out shakily to the other’s arm. He starkly tried to avoid thinking about how close they had gotten, or the fact that Regulus looked quite beautiful when he was angry. “When someone told me the Germans were gone last time, it didn’t end well.”
The younger looked up at him for a moment, James nearly thought he had pushed some sense into the man’s head, but Regulus shoved him off instead, turning to squeeze through the line of people. James felt anger boil in his chest, “You don’t know what it was like Reg!”
That didn’t stop Regulus, nothing could, not angry sergeants or barking privets. James stomped after them, wondering what ill he had committed to face this monstrosity. “Let’s say the are gone, nine miles will only take us eight hours tops so we have time to wait ‘till nightfall-”
“We have no idea what we’re walking into,” Regulus interrupted.
James wanted to reach out, to stop him in his tracks right there and keep him safe, but the man was rushing forward with everything he had. “Regulus, if we’re not smart, then no one gets to your brother.”
He looked up at James, determination across his face. “I will.” His tone was finalising, and James had to finally accept defeat.
Both of the men paused as they came up against the wall, “This is it, the front line.”
The men turned to each other, a mutual understanding across their expressions. This could very well be it, the last conversation they had, the last moments; James suddenly thought about doing a lot stupid things, but tucked those dark thoughts deep into the recesses of his mind. They took twin breaths and climbed up and out.
It was deadly quiet, not something James would have expected. There were rows and rows of barbed wire ahead of them, spikes, and holes from previous grenades and ammunition. Some craters looked like they could be from meteors. The ground was slick with mud and other liquids that James didn’t want to think about. His stomach quickly became queasy.
Regulus led the way, hands steady on his rifle; James was just behind him, trembling slightly. “It’s damn quiet.”
“Was it like this at Thiepval?”
The word struck a chord in James, right down to his soul. The fear clung to his heart, seeping into every nerve in his body: he shook it from his body. Now was not the time for such things. “I don’t remember.” Oh, how he wished that were true.
“You don’t remember the Somme?” Regulus asked accusingly.
“No.”
Regulus scoffed, “You came out alright, the least you could do is wear your ribbon.”
There was a heavy silence that fell over the men.
James wanted to forget all about that ribbon, all about that stupid piece of cloth and purge it from his mind. “Don’t have it.”
“You lost your medal?”
James staunchly ignored the question, putting all his focus to the task at hand.
They twisted around bends and turns until they were coming up to another trench, taking the opportunity to jump down into it. James breathed a little easier now that he wasn’t in the open, glad to be away from Regulus’ interrogation as well. “Yorks?” James asked to the first man he saw.
“Yes, Corp.” A young man responded.
Regulus stepped forward, shooting a dark look James’ way, “Where’s the Major?”
The boy’s gaze fell, “Killed, Lieutenant Lupin has command.”
“Where is he?” The boy pointed down the line: Regulus didn’t wait to hear any other direction, all James could do was follow.
They made it to the next dugout, a horrid place that looked awful and smelled even worse. The wooden planks that had once covered the floor were either blown to bits or sloshed with mud, and there were rats crawling over just about every surface. James spotted the man in question lounging on a camp bed, a cigarette hanging loosely between his lips.
James didn’t know how to awake him, but Regulus took no such trouble, “Lieutenant Lupin, Sir?” He spoke clearly and loudly, James cringed at his technique.
Lupin stirred, the cigarette teetering now, “What d’you want?” The man’s accent was a thick Welsh one, and the apparent sleep in it wasn’t helping.
“We have a message from General Moody.”
Lupin’s eyes blinked open and his brow furrowed, “You relief?” James shook his head, not knowing what else to say. “Then why the hell are you here?”
“We have orders to cross here, Sir.” Regulus spoke cleanly: he held out the letter.
Lupin sat up, taking the letter and reading it quickly, his expression quickly changing as he realised what was happening. “I’ll be damned, well shit, a slow night and they’ve got it in their minds the lot have gone off.”
Regulus began to look peeved, even more than before, “Sir, the General believes the enemy has withdrawn, the new-” Lupin stood, and James was quickly presented with a man that was far taller then he; even Regulus looked caught off guard. “Shut your fucking mouth, we’ve died over that blasted land for inches and now we’re getting miles?”
James attempted to look at Regulus, but the latter’s icy eyes were gazing straight forward. “We have orders to cross.”
There was a beat, a heavy one that sunk into the hearts of each man there. Lupin handed over the letter again, “Fine, have fun falling into the worst trap of your lives, but hey, maybe there’s a medal in there somewhere.”
James should have been furious at Lupin for the way he was speaking, but he couldn’t find it in himself to feel angry at all. He had lost just about everything, his men, possibly his way home: James couldn’t hate a man like that, he pitied him. No. He empathised with Lupin above all.
The two Lance Corporals made their way to another dilapidated trench, a muddy, terrible thing. James knew that Lupin was giving them directions to where they were meant to go, but he couldn’t keep his eyes off of Regulus. The man had come in a few months after himself, he had looked livelier then, then again, they all looked better before they had seen warfare. Now there were dark circles under his eyes, his hair had grown out into slightly matted curls, and his cheeks looked gaunt.
But he was still beautiful, too damn beautiful for war.
James was snapped from his thoughts by Lupin sprinkling whisky on them, giving them a half drunken blessing. “May the Lord pardon thee whatever sins or faults thou hast committed.”
James felt a flare pistol drop into his hands; he swallowed. What a sinner he was, what a horrible abomination to walk the Earth. He was meant to be fighting for a cause, for his country, to be helping his fellow Lance Corporal on one of the most important missions of his life, and he couldn't help but think about how gorgeous the other man was.
He probably did need that blessing.
Lupin clapped their backs, “Good luck you two.” He stepped back, already taking a swing from the nearly empty whisky bottle.
They stood on the ladder, peeking out over the top. James leaned against the rotted wood, “You sure about this?”
Regulus didn’t look, only nodded; James could see the terror painted across his face. He took a deep breath. He had to be brave then, so, he went up first.
He dragged himself over the edge, gripping at the slick mud and feeling it soak into his uniform. Finally, after far more struggle than he would like to admit, he felt solid ground beneath him. He looked up through his lashes; miles of wire were up, even more stakes. The craters here were monstrous and the stench revolting.
Regulus pulled himself up as well. They crouched low to the ground, hoping that General Moody’s assertions had been correct. Slowly, mere centimetres at a time, they strode forward. Everything was a desolate mess, an utter wasteland. There were bodies littering the ground, a thick mist that coated the once lively battlefield. James didn’t know which side was worse.
James made it to the wire, beginning to cut it, when his hand slipped through the mud. The razor wire dug deep into his hand, hooking on his flesh like a fishhook. He wanted to scream, to cry out in agony, but he bit his lip and pulled his hand free, causing more damage in the process.
“You alright?” Regulus asked dumbly. James wanted to scream again.
Instead, the two looked for cover, but there was nothing in the barren landscape that would protect them. He strode forward, coming across a sap trench. He took his chances and jumped in. With the miniscule cover, he decided to look at his sliced hand. The blood was pulsing, a revolting look. Suddenly, chills ran down James' neck and he turned to his side, the feeling of eyes over him extreme. His unblemished hand came up to cover his mouth as he saw the soldier lying in front of him.
Regulus took that moment to jump down and James was pushed towards the corpse, tarnished hand falling into it; he wanted to vomit, but nothing would come up. Regulus’ eyes shot open in terror, but James shushed him. If he didn’t think about it, then maybe everything would be okay.
They continued forward, crouching as low as they could without losing speed. It felt like hours, all the time they spent slowly edging their way through No Man’s Land. They had to make their way through another crater, filled with brown rainwater and bloated bodies. James climbed up through to the top on the other side, but Regulus was still at the bottom. “Potter…”
James looked back, seeing the man’s expression soften some. He cursed himself for letting the thoughts fest as he offered a hand for support. They pushed through the rest of the wire - a daunting task - before making it to the German trench. Both the men stood with their hands on their rifles for a moment, waiting to see the enemy pour out, but there was nothing.
“Fuck me, they really are gone.”
James was a bit caught off guard at Regulus’ sudden outburst.
Now was not the time.
The men jumped down into the trench. It was far better then the British ones on the other side, there weren’t mud slides, nor were there people though. It sent a chill down James’ spine.
He took a moment to dress his hand, but doing it with only one functioning hand proved difficult. Regulus noticed and stepped forward, “Here, I’ll help.”
“It’s fine I can-'' James stopped his struggle as Regulus was ignoring his protest anyway. The other’s hands moved much more deftly. James’ breath was caught in his throat as he watched. Regulus had delicate fingers, long and thin, the kind you would expect a pianist to have, not a soldier. Regulus didn’t seem fit for war, he would look perfect in a lavish home, relaxing over extravagant couches and carelessly handling champagne glasses. The man was quick with his work, tucking the bandage in just perfect. “Great, you’ll be good as new in no time.”
Regulus walked off, leaving James to his own misery.
He quickly followed through the trenches, many came to dead ends, either purposeful or from debris. With every “exit” they found James became a little more sure that the mission was going to be a failure.
That was until they descended a set of timber stairs.
Under the ground was a bunker of sorts, “It’s massive,” Regulus admitted in awe. It was; carved out of the earth was a dugout that housed dozens of beds and other supplies. James lit his torch, and Regulus followed suit. “They built this.”
James' heart sunk deeper into his stomach, not believing that the Germans had been living in near luxury when the British were struggling so starkly. They made their way into what he assumed was the Officer’s Quarters. There were iron bed frames, some with mattresses. James decided to sit down on one as Regulus peered through the rest of the quarters. He bounced on it once, then twice, the squeaking sound filling his ears, “Hey, Reg, look we can-”
James was abruptly cut off as a massive rat came crashing down beside him. He jumped to the side, horrified at what he witnessed. “Jesus Christ, even the rats are bigger here.” The rat scampered back to the rafters, running along the beams. It leaped from one beam to another, and James watched it with queer interest.
James decided to stand up and see what the pile in the corner was all about: he hoped it was food; that would have been stellar. “Potter. Don’t move.”
James paused, “What’re you on about.” Regulus pointed down at the floor, “Trip wire.”
He sat absolutely still, “Shit, where’s it at?” “One door to the other.” The sound of squeaking picked up again, and then another time. James looked up and sure enough there was that rat, jumping from one beam to another.
It seemed to fall in slow motion, until it hit the ground, setting off the trip wire. A bright white light flooded the room, and a sound of epic proportions rang out around them. James felt rubble pile on top of him; the smoke and debris filling his lungs.
“James!”
He wanted to sleep, he wanted nothing more than to wake up under that tree again and enjoy the spring afternoon. He could barely respond as he felt Regulus pull stones off of him, small and then big. Regulus tore the stones as quickly as he could, “James!”
He barely had any energy, wanting to sleep away the crushing pain. “James! Come on, you don’t get to die here.” Slowly, the weight became lighter, and James could feel air against his skin once more. Regulus pulled at his arms, brushing the chalk off from his face. “Stand up, stand up! It’s all coming down!” He knew that those words probably meant something, but James couldn't think of it.
Finally, Regulus tore him from his stony prison and lifted him over his shoulder. They stumbled forward, the walls and floor shaking. “I can’t see!”
They abruptly stopped, but Regulus kept a steady arm around him. “Stop fighting! It’s a mineshaft, you’ll bloody fall!” Regulus looked around for any other option, but not one made sense. “We’re going to have to jump, just trust me, okay?” Regulus went first, but James couldn’t do it, “I can’t see!”
“Trust me, jump!” The rumbling sound became greater, and James knew that if he stayed there that he was going to be crushed by all the debris. He took a staggering step back. “Jump, James!”
That was a heavenly sound, the way that Regulus said his name. The man’s crisp accent made it even greater. He took a shaky breath and lunged forward; James felt his foot slip against the edge and two arms came around to save him from falling into the mineshaft. “I’ve got you.”
James believed it, more than anything. He let Regulus guide him from the tunnel, blurrily looking through his dust-ridden eyes and most likely broken glasses. Getting to Ecoust was going to be an even greater challenge now.
The daylight was near blinding, but James didn’t care because that meant they were out of the caves. “Here, let me fix your eyes.” He listened intently as Regulus fumbled with his canteen, pouring it ungraciously into James' eyes. He wiped away the dust with those gentle pianist hands. It felt sinful, the way that Regulus moved against James, but he didn’t stop the man, no, he leaned right into it.
Eventually, the dust was wiped from his eyes and James looked around. “We actually bloody did it.”