Disclaimer: I will only say this once: if I owned it, why is it a fanfic?

A/N: This story is based on the challenge posted by Ptronille some time ago. It is all written, but I will be spreading out the posting. My wonderful beta, girlwithoutfear, is holding out on me for the time being, so there might be some corrections at a later date. I did my best and Ptronille did proof-read, so it shouldn't be too bad.

This is dedicated to Ptronille. I hope it meets your satisfaction. As far as you readers, I will never beg for reviews, but that doesn't mean I don't want them. I guess I just broke my promise. Okay, that's the only time I will ask. There, does that fix it?

Now, please begin!

Not-So-Magical Medicine

Prologue:

Harry James Potter surveyed the death in front of him. He watched as the coffin of his best friend was lowered slowly into a hole six feet deep. The priest's mouth moved, forming silent words.

The young man stayed behind after all the other mourners had left, staring at the blinding, white tombstone. Then he disappeared.

Six months later, James Evans enrolled in Healer's training. Two years later he graduated top of his class. The next day he was gone.

Four years later he resurfaced as the youngest head of cardiology in the history of St. Michael's and one of the best healers St. Mungo's has ever seen.

Chapter One

St. Michael's Hospital, five years later:

Harry rolled his eyes. "Look, Hermione, I'm fine." He signed the file a nurse had just handed him, nodding his head slightly in greeting, and shifted his cell to the other ear. "I've got to go…Yeah, see you then." He snapped the phone shut.

"She still trying to set you up?"

Harry turned to face the slightly tubby, distinctly Scottish, oncologist and sighed. "Unfortunately."

Nicholas McLeod smiled boyishly. "Who's the victim this time?"

Harry started walking, his friend following. "Some girl. Does it matter?"

"Of course! So are you going?"

Harry stopped in his tracks and looked at the fellow doctor. "Haven't you got a prostate exam to do or something?"

"Biopsy, actually, but not for twenty minutes," Nick replied, his smile widening.

"Well, I have work to do." Harry waved a little goodbye and turned into his office.

He was about to check his email when his pager went off. He glanced at it and hurried to the OR.

The café across the street, later that day:

Hermione Granger was about to give up waiting for her best friend, when he appeared.

"About time. I thought you'd forgotten," she commented as soon as he'd sat down.

Harry shook his head. "Emergency. Couldn't get away without killing the guy."

"Will he live?" Hermione asked, gesturing for a waiter.

Harry sighed. "He's critical. I had to use a little," he coughed lightly, "to get him that far."

Hermione nodded, understanding. After a few minutes spent perusing the menu, she said, "So did you think about my offer?"

"Which was that?" Harry replied absently, nose still buried in the menu.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "She's great, I promise. Pretty, interesting personality."

"'Mione!" Harry exclaimed, "Will you stop trying to play matchmaker? I don't want to go out!"

"No, I won't. And you're just making excuses."

"What about you? When was the last time you went on a date?"

Hermione opened her mouth to reply, but closed it again. "I go on dates!" she finally said, a little too defensively.

"When?"

The witch looked affronted. "This is not about me. We're talking about you."

"Okay, I'll make you a deal. I'll start dating again when you do."

Hermione looked at her best friend skeptically. "You'll go with whomever I choose?"

Harry thought about it for a second. "If you go with the guy I set you up with."

Hermione smiled. "Deal."

"Deal."

The two friends ate their lunch in the silence that usually follows a deal until Hermione broke it. "Tomorrow's Mungo's, right?"

St. Mungo's, the next day:

Draco Malfoy had been friends with Harry Potter since the end of the war. In the beginning, it had been a bit shaky – they had been enemies throughout their Hogwarts career, after all – but since graduating from healer training and completing their apprenticeships, it had fortified. In fact, Draco was one of only two people (not including Harry himself) who knew James Evans' real name.

Draco looked at the clock on the wall and sighed. As usual, his partner was late. He went to his personal store of potions and pulled out a vial containing a milky, yellow liquid. A second later Harry Potter, otherwise known as James Evans, came barreling into the dark curses ward. Without a word, Draco tossed him the vial.

"Thank Merlin," Harry exclaimed as soon as he'd downed the murky contents.

Draco sat down lightly. "Long night?"

Harry nodded, falling heavily into his chair. "Hard surgery."

"I still don't get why you bother," Draco commented quietly.

"Doing what?"

Draco looked up from his paperwork. "Being a butcher – or whatever," he amended, seeing Harry flick his wand warningly, "for muggles."

Harry shrugged. "I'm a doctor, a good one at that, and you're just jealous that I save more lives than you." He didn't bother adding that he just liked being one. It was oddly calming in the OR. He felt human there, normal and trusted, not because he had a scar on his forehead, but for his skill.

"Why would I be jealous of a guy who sews people up with, what is it? A needle and thread?" Draco shuddered dramatically at the thought.

"We use staples now."

"Much better."

Harry was about to send a mild hex towards his partner when a silver flamingo patronus appeared and said in a high, female voice, "Code seven. Now."

The two healers sprang up. Code seven was an unforgivable curse.

A/N: Chapter one posted. Expect chapter two sometime soon. Oh and, before anyone comments about the time issues, just remember Harry is a wizard and this is fiction. I know medical training can take anywhere from four years to eight, I just needed to speed things up for the story to make sense.