To:

fifespice:wow! ur the first reviewer! i'm sooo happy to know that someone actually bothered to stop by and take a look at the story! neways, u'll see how Harry managed to deal with Ron in this chappy i hope u'll like it!

Asiza Valentine:good suggestion there, though i haven't considered it your way yet. Thx for the thought, it's a beautiful title nonetheless.

Drarry fan: you've really got a thing for draco and harry by the looks of it. Don't worry. Sit back and wait.

Dairygirl: yup i always come up with strange storylines. Am glad to find that you liked it!

Disclaimer: I will say it one more time. Harry is not mine, but I can wrap James around my finger and do whatever I want with him.

Lights on, patient unloaded, footsteps rushing in-out, alarm silenced for everyone's sake, door slams.

I ran towards the emergency chamber, and was panting heavily as I neared my destination. Something very wrong has happened, now that was my healer's side of sixth sense. I looked up to check the name of the patient--'Ronald Weasley: Auror'.

I would've slipped and toppled over right then and there, only the floor wasn't slippery due to our instant-evaporating-hygiene floor construction, I wasn't having a nightmare, and I wasn't just anyone, but a bloody healer.

Ron? Ronald Weasley? The time lapse which consists of the name chanted like a mantra inside my head stretched on for what seems like eternity. A flash of light blinded me--"Are you alright? Man, you look pale, James, look I know he looks a real mess but--" A real mess? Great, the first chance I ever get to have a nice chat to my long-lost-contact friend would also be, presumably, the last. I flicked my wand to the ready, mumbled something to the American beside me and pushed past the door towards the emergency chamber, expecting a horrible sight which includes 'a mess'.

Now, what I previously stated as 'a mess' was an understatement. The man who lay in front of me had an odd way of lying down. He couldn't be seated properly due to his jutted back, maybe a spell from a Deatheater or whatever else an Auror's job is concerned, but it sure does leave a sight. A look at his shin also left me pondering what in the world he has managed to get himself into. There was a perfect, straight wound running from the top of his left shin all the way down to his heels, scraping off most of the flesh on the exterior as it marked its path. Even as an experienced healer, I must admit that I was shocked. A fleeting sense came to me as an irresistible urge to kill whoever had done this. Not to mention all the other bits and bobs peeled off of his body, I instantly called for assistance on maintaining his vital issues such as breathing and a basic but thorough cleanse of his skin to prevent infection. I, on the other hand, went about making sure which spells I could use to prevent extra tissues from growing rapidly before his backbones are adjusted into his normal state.

However convenient all the spells I've learnt may seem, things still needs balancing. There are two spells which I could think of that would work wonders in this situation: one of which is painless, and the other one otherwise. The latter one, however, enables a much quicker healing period. I am a healer and know the concept of time is gold, so I chose the latter one.

My wand hovered around where my patient's spine should be, and, as I cast the spell, I heard a heart-wrenching gasp from my Auror-friend. With another quick motion, I alleviated the sting by the realignment of his bones with a pain-relieving spell. It doesn't kill the twinge, but it soothed my patient instantly. Ron's eyes fluttered as the surge of comfort ran through his now straight back.

"Shut your eyes." I readjusted the luminosity of the room into a more relaxing shade of dim, cozy yellow. "Feel the currents join?" I turned and pulled a stool from behind. I saw him shiver as he nodded slightly, and sat down beside him. His eyes suddenly opened up with a dazed look in his eyes. He tried to fix his focus, his pupils getting larger to acclimate to the dim surroundings. I pulled in a bit closer.

"Relax," I said.

He sighed and puffed out his chest, the after effect of the bone- realignment charm. He has grown a lot taller since we parted, but he never changed in my mind. He's still the same, old Ron.

"Harry?" It was quite unexpected, his calling my name.

"What?" I tend to correct people when they don't call me by James, but somehow decided otherwise at this moment. It won't change much anyways.

"Oh my god, it is you," he muttered.

"Why, does this healer's cloak thing make me look too old or what?" I tucked my hands back into my cloak again, along with the wand. I don't want to feel like a healer in front of Ron.

"No, it's just that…it's so long since we've last seen each other..."

"Well, at long last, now we did." I smiled a little, maybe slightly awkward, I couldn't tell. There was a humming silence when I finished. I checked him head to toe again, catching his injured limb once again.

"Oh, I'm sorry…" I took out my wand again and told him to shut his eyes, "Don't move," and I dipped one of my most prided incantations, out of my own creation, into his left leg. It was one of those things that kept me on top of other healers, that I could be able to make some imaginations come true.

Ron shivered a little, but I kept his left leg still by a firm hand.

"Ouch! Be a little gentler, mate!" he screeched. Something in the last word made me grin. He still sound like an eleven-year old sometimes.

"What the hell did you get into, huh?"

"He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named," he said with a shrug.

"Honestly," I sat down again, "Don't they tell you his proper name in the RIA? You're an Auror, for heaven's sake."

"Whatever, I just…" he winced as little electric shocks went tumbling through his torso, warming up his body as I expected, though it may sometimes be a little too warm. Just something to help my patients from getting too cold and keeping comfy with. He sighed and continued, "I was sent to the front line—the very front line…my commander pushed me on."

"Commander? Commander who?" I admit that it was more than mere curiosity which made me ask. I mean, I know it's an Auror's job to come face to face with the dark forces, and I respect every one of their members for that, but pushing your man right into Voldemort's hands just isn't a responsible choice. Unless they have a brilliant tactic, otherwise I'd—

"Commander Malfoy." My friend replied, to my horror, at ease.

I simply stared at him, too dumbstruck to even reply with a little indifferent oh, really, how interesting. I seriously consider him as someone who suffers more mentally other than just physically.

"Malfoy," I swallowed, "Malfoy--Who?"

"Malfoy." Ron gave me one of those ridiculous looks of his. "Dude—yes, Draco Malfoy—who else could it be?"

Right, even though it was just two years, that blond leader of the insufferable three is still a nightmare to be reminded of. "Malfoy?" my volume rocketed—"the Death Eater's son? How could he ever have become commander of a fleet of the top Aurors?"

"Chill, Harry--"

"Chill? Ron, out of all people, and you're the one who's telling me to chill?" I stood up, the grin from my face fading away instantly. By now, Ron was starting to fidget, I'm afraid, not so uneasily. I took several deep breaths and paced around the room before I turned back to him.

"How can you be so calm about this? You know why you became an Auror and that's because--"

Ron stopped fidgeting at my words. "I know why I became an Auror, thank you." This is the first time that I've ever brought the issue out with someone else after Ginny Weasley's death. I regretted the instant I said those words--I didn't know the effect of them, for I have never shared them before. "I'm sorry, Ron."

Before I knew it, there was a great, big lump that threatened to choke me, starting somewhere around my throat. I couldn't bear to look at Ron, and all the memories came flooding back. Try as I may, the comforting words in the past eight years that told me it was not my fault that someone died because of Voldemort wasn't working at all. It was always with me, the burden that I couldn't let go.

I turned away from him and said something in what I hoped was a calm voice. "Look, I really don't know why this conversation turned out to be like this. I won't bring it up again." I swallowed. "Just in case you haven't figured, I became a healer so I can help those in need…"

"What, just because you need an escapee for the past?" Ron retorted, voice raising and sitting up. "Harry," He started again as I froze, my back still facing him, "Its James," I corrected numbly.

"Whatever," he sighed and straightened up. "Listen, I want you to turn around and face me," he instructed. It surprised me to discover that, at the end of the day, he was the one who had the ability to control his emotions while I can't, no matter how hard I tried. His voice had become an octave lower as a result of the past several years, and there was something in his tone that made the command irresistible. I turned around, though I didn't expecting anything I haven't heard before.

"James then," he started, "James. It wasn't your fault." I knew it. Seriously, is that all he had to say? I looked him in the eye, waiting. Then he suddenly exploded.

"Goddammit, it's not your bloody FAULT! Do you really need somebody to SCREAM at you to take that in? Just because you've heard it so many times doesn't mean it's not true! On the contrary, I'm afraid, it is so well bloody true, 'cause you've already done your best to save Ginny and we all know it!"

"I understand you now, Ron, but how exactly can you feel what I felt? She was in my own hands when I brought her out of the chamber of secrets."

"I don't. Harry, I didn't know how you felt. All I'm trying to express is how I felt, that I think you were brave, Harry, and will always be so in those who trust you, now that's me, all my family, Hermione…and Ginny."

I felt my heart stop beating. Nobody's words have ever had this kind of effect on me. There goes the lump in my throat again, only this time, I am really choked.

Ron looked at me with a sincere look in his eyes. "It's you who you don't trust, Harry. You ever wondered why you changed your name into James?" The rhetorical question hung there along with the hum of the silence.

"Good…good point there," I stuttered, half choking and half trying to swallow the lump, "I'll try." The lump was still there. My vision became a little blur and I doubted it was due to any unreasonable fogginess coming onto my glasses. A tear slithered down and I wiped it away with my finger. The dampness was still there. I hoped that it was going to be both the first and last tear that's going to fall, because I'm really not used to this. Last time I cried was really long ago. Unfortunately, it isn't.

"Ex—Excuse—" I cleared my throat. "—me."

"Sure," he lay back down. The pain seemed to settle back into him, and I heard him hiss as I slowly went out of the door and into the restroom.

I checked myself in the mirror until I made sure that there are not going to be any more tears to shed. Things came back into control after a while and I eventually made my way back.

"Sorry."

"It's alright, mate. Long as you know what I want you to know and what you're doing." He paused. "Do you like this job?—Being a healer, I mean."

"It offers a stable income." I said, but I know that's not what he meant to hear me say. I sighed. "I want to help people, those who suffered, to make them better."

"What about yourself? Do you feel better?" He looked at me, his eyes radiating warmth of a friendship which I thought I've lost contact with ever since the transfer occurred.

I nodded, "it just takes time, I guess."

"So are you going to be a healer for the rest of your life?"

I've thought about this before. "It depends..."

"On what?"

"Donno."

He shifted and tried to sit up. Apparently, his spine was back to normal, but still suffers from a temporary malfunction. It couldn't be moved too much. I motioned for him to lie down.

"Why don't you try out for an Auror? You'll be a fast learner and everything. The talent."

"I'll think about it," I smiled, like a parent smiling to his kid in reply to a childish offer. The offer was a childish one. Being an Auror takes a lot of serious training. But nevertheless, it was a nice of him to suggest so.

"Oh no, I know what you're thinking," his eyebrows raised in a way which reminded me a lot of him as a little boy in his second year.

"Oh, really, what?"

"You're thinking about our Commander Malfoy and how to deal with his existence."

"Not exactly, but nevertheless, it is a serious issue." I grinned.

"You probably won't believe this, but our commander is really against the dark forces. He vowed on his life that he would wipe them out one day."

"Really. By sending you to the front." I raised a questioning eyebrow at this.

"Nononono, it was an accident. I was about to hex this Death-Eater when Malfoy realized something that was wrong, I donno, probably with his sixth sense or something, but he pushed me out of the way before the Death-Eater turned sideways to reveal his master on the back of his head."

"So Voldemort decided to chose another Death-Eater as something to stick onto?"

"Sorta, yeah. So then he tried to prevent me from coming into contact with the Death-Eater, only he didn't notice that now Voldy is actually facing me square on." Ron shut his eyes to call back the vivid image at the back of his head.

"But he couldn't really do you any harm, could he? Only the Death-Eater could."

"Exactly. That Death-Eater was a really tough one. He hexed me immediately and burnt all my flesh down there," he was referring to his limb, "and I hexed him back but it was all a mess so I couldn't really tell what happened. Just a hell of a chaos, it was."

"So do you like your job?"

"Oh, of course. A lot of excitement going on," he grinned as if enjoying the memories of those battles.

"A true Gryffindor," I pronounced. "You know, about that thing with trusting myself?—I'll try, really." I don't exactly know how it came to be so, but at that moment, as if Ron's pride had somehow transferred to me miraculously, I felt something reborn within me.

"Glad you've survived, huh?"

"Glad I got sent here otherwise I couldn't get to see you again," he replied.

"So, seems like Malfoy's a good commander?" This would need a lot of getting used to, this ridiculous aspect.

"Not exactly. He could be a real pain in the ass sometimes," Ron snickered.

"And?"

Ron tsked. "Don't ask, next time imma bring you over for Auror's interview. Quit your job then. You'll meet him soon enough."

I was pointing out how ridiculous this plan seems when a staff trod into the room.

"Mr. Potter," he panted, "A Mr. Malfoy—who was—who came here earlier—would like to see Mr. Weasley."

I wheeled around with my stool. "Mr. Malfoy? Commander Malfoy?"

"Yes."

"Where is he?"

"Just outside."

"Mr. Weasley couldn't stand up straight yet, but we can arrange the talk soon enough." I am now arranging for a queer meeting. The truth is, I don't know what I might do when I actually see Malfoy. This interview would include me anyway.

Ron, at this point, sneered at me and mouthed, 'see?' as I turned to get some papers.

"These are Mr. Weasley's records. File them in, it will come in handy." I instructed as I handed them over. "Mr. Malfoy would have to wait. I still need to get something done with my patient over here."

"For how long?"

"Just a moment." I said. "Tell him to knock beforehand, I'd like to know when he's in."

A/N: Draco!DracoDracoDraco's gonna come in the next chappy! Ooooh i'm so excited! Any reviews for me?