A/N: Whoo, second chapter already. This really seems to be writing itself at this point. A lot of talking in this on towards the end, but I hope you like it.

Now to answer some questions.

EveJHoang: I know that the ending of chapter 1 looks like Potion Accident, which is a good story by the way. The main reason I didn't write this until now, was because I was wondering how they would first meet. Sorry, innocence2652, if your reading this, for having it similar to how they meet, but it was the only thing I could think of. I promise that the rest will be different in the future. And no, Bucky will not be an ass. Well, he will be at the start towards Harry, but that is it. The way I wrote it was more that Steve was annoyed at him for what he does, is all.

LeeArt: This is all before Steve becomes a Super Soldier. I've got it started about a good year and a half from when he becomes a Super Soldier, as this is when Harry's and Steve's relationship starts up. So, as stated in this chapter, it is in 1941. As for meeting back up with the others, and whether or not they will meet Harry in the 40's or not is going to be known only to me until I post that.

Anyway, onwards to the story.

-Line-Break-

Harry woke with a groan, a searing pain in his left arm. A searing pain he knew all too well, the pain of alcohol being used to sterilize a wound. He slowly woke, not noticing anything familiar with his surroundings, not remembering how he got here, before it all came rushing back. The Veil, the seemingly endless fall, the colours, the flashes of emotions…

He was jerked out of memory lane when he heard a gasp of pain and a thump. He shot up from where he was laying, absently noticing he was in a lounge room, before he found the source of the noise. There next to a broken coffee table (which he absently remembered was broken because of his landing), was a small, thin blond haired man with startlingly electric blue eyes, gasping for air and clutching his chest in obvious pain.

Leaping off the couch he was on, he quickly went to his leather jacket, which had fallen off of him when he landed, and searched through his pockets, looking for various potions and salves he had stashed for emergencies like these. He pulled out a long, thin vial, almost like a test tube, filled with an acidic green substance, another, square shaped vial filled with a navy blue liquid, a blood red concoction in a pyramid shaped vial and a jar filled with a cream coloured salve. He quickly pulled out a length of green dyed leather, pulling his shoulder length hair back into a tail, out of his eyes so he could work more efficiently.

Moving over to the blond man, he quickly unstoppered the green filled vial, and pushed the pain reliever to his lips, forcing him to swallow. Quickly followed by that was the blood red potion, a dreamless sleep, so that the man wouldn't be in any more pain while he tried to heal him. He waved his hand, conjuring a small, bright blue flame that floated in the air, and levitated the square vial over it, still stoppered, making it boil into a fine, dark blue mist. While that was boiling, Harry ripped off the man's shirt, opened the jar of salve, and scooped up a large quantity of the cream coloured substance, before rubbing it between his hands to warm it up, before kneading it into the man's chest.

The muscle relaxant started to do its work, making it easier for the man to breath, loosening up the muscles in his chest to make it easier. Harry hissed spells in parseltongue, pushing his magic through his hands, seeing what was wrong with the blond, and trying to rid his body of any problems that were present. For now he focused on the lungs, as it had obviously been an asthma attack, and so searched the lungs with his magic. The blonde's lungs were filled with fluid and phlegm, a severe infection by the looks of it, and it hadn't been treated recently, or if it had, it hadn't been treated correctly. Harry knew that if he didn't do anything to heal the blond now, the man would most definitely be dead by the end of the winter. Looking around, he noticed there was no heating except for an empty fireplace, and so quickly set to work heating up the small apartment.

He flick his fingers on his right hand, summoning his wand from its holster. Pointing it at the fireplace, he conjured logs and lit them on fire, immediately noticing a difference, before casting heating charms around the apartment, heating the room up even quicker. He looked back to the blond, marvelling in the beauty of the man's sleeping face, before he quickly shoved those thoughts to the back of his mind. This was not the time to be thinking like that. For all Harry knew, the man could be straight, and he didn't know where he was either. He would simply push those thoughts back until he found out more.

He looked at the man's lungs again through his magic and heaved a sigh. This was beyond even his abilities, and he was considered to be an exceptional healer before Weasley's betrayal. He quickly thought about what he could do, before a thought hit him. Maybe it could work. It was completely unorthodox, yes, but it would work. And it was used in only extreme cases, and Harry considered this to be an extreme case, so he went to work.

When Harry had decided to be a healer, they had found out that due to the first ten years of his life being beaten by the Dursley's, before being removed when Dumbledore realised his mistake, his magic had developed an odd quirk. Of course, this worked more in Harry's favour than anything else. Due to the near constant beatings, his magic had built up a defence, and was able to heal much quicker than any other witch or wizard normally would. It explained why he was up and walking around a week after a hundred foot drop after the dementor's attacked during the Quidditch game in his third year. He would have been killed quicker from the basilisk bite earlier if his magic hadn't been fighting off the poison as much as it had before Fawkes had come along.

An ability that all healers were taught was the ability to remove an illness from a patient's body, and place it in their own body, as healing magic worked better on oneself than on others, in most cases, and seeing as Parselmagic was centred on healing, it worked the best. Hissing in parseltongue, he drew the fluid and phlegm from the blonde's lungs, though his chest, up through his arms, and into his own lungs. He felt a searing pain in his chest as the fluid took up space in his lungs that would be needed for air. His breathes became laboured and heavy, before he felt his magic attack the infection, slowly starting to fend it off. But it wouldn't be enough, so Harry removed his hands from the blonde's chest, pulled off his shirt, and placed his hands to his chest.

Continuing his hissing in parseltongue, he felt his magic move, as if it were like a snake, and rather than generally attacking the infection, it became more focused in its attack. It quickly and efficiently removed the fluid, before breaking down and removing the phlegm that had started to attach itself to his lungs. His magic then shifted, and went from attacking to defending and healing, fixing any damage that had been done to his lungs, before moving on to learning what had happened, remembering what had happened so Harry didn't have to focus on it next time.

He moved away from the wall he had been leaning on after pulling the infection into his body. Pulling the levitating potion vial from the air and banishing the flame underneath with a wave of his hand. He lifted up the blondes head, unstoppering the vial, and pushing it under his nose, making him breath in the mist that now filled the vial. When he had breathed in the whole contents of the vial, Harry lay him back down, lifting him onto the couch, and covering him in blankets ad resting a pillow under his head.

Turning from the now healed blond, Harry looked around the apartment, wondering what he was going to do. His stomach growled in hunger, and making up his mind, he moved into the kitchen, looking around for supplies to make a meal. He knew he would need some food, and hot food at that, and he knew the man he had just saved would want some food and an explanation, and so got to work.

-Line-Break-

When Steve woke from his dreamless sleep, the first thing he noticed was that he was pain free. The second was that he was warm. Surely I must be dead he though I've never been this pain free after an attack, and it's too warm for the apartment. The smell of fresh, warm bread, and beef stew wafted into his nose, making him sigh contentedly. This must be heaven, Bucky doesn't know how to cook beef stew. He doesn't even know I like the stuff.

Opening his eyes, he looked around, noticing he was still in his apartment, a large fire roaring in the fireplace. He sat up, pulling off all of the blankets, as he went to get up off the couch. Before he knew it, the emerald eyed boy he had patched up earlier was in front of him, kneeling down so he wouldn't have to crane his neck. He had an acidic green liquid in a test tube, and he felt his heart skip a beat when the raven haired boy smiled, showing a full set of perfectly white teeth.

"You had me scared there for a while, you know?" the boy said, holding out his hand in greeting. Taking it, the boy said "My name is Harry Potter, and I helped stopped you from dying. Sorry about the coffee table, I can help fix that. Now tell me, what is your name, and are you in any pain?"

"I'm in no pain, surprisingly" Steve said, not lying at all. Something about the boy just made him not want to lie. And as he said, he had saved his life, after all. "My name is Steve. Steve Rogers. Thanks for saving me, I don't know what I would have done if you weren't here." His stomach growled in hunger, before he said "Looks like I'm going to have to make dinner…"

The boy (Harry, he remembered), cut him off, placing the test tube on the couch, saying "There's no need, Steve. I've already cooked us some dinner, I knew you would like some food after the dreamless sleep potion. Believe me, I know from experience. Come on, I think you're strong enough to walk, but take the vial…" here, Harry pointed to the tube of acidic green liquid "…it's a pain reliever, so if you start feeling any pain, drink that immediately."

Getting up slowly, Steve grabbed the vial and placed it in his pocket, following Harry over to the small kitchen, where a freshly baked loaf of bread sat cooling on the bench, with a pot of beef stew still boiling away on the stove. Blowing out the flame on the stove, Harry grabbed two bowls and a soup ladle, scooping up generous amounts of the stew for both of them, placing one in front of Steve as he sat at one of the bar stools at the counter. Harry cut up two, large chunks of bread, steam wafting up from the cut in the bread, handing one to Steve, before he grabbed a spoon and started eating the stew, ripping off large chunks of bread from his slice and dipping it in here and there.

Tentatively following Harry's lead, he spooned some stew into his mouth, marvelling at the taste. He ripped off a piece of bread, placing it in his mouth, marvelling at the taste of cinnamon and sugar that spread across his tongue. "This has got to be the best beef stew I've ever tasted" he commented. "The bread too, it tastes so amazing with the cinnamon."

"Why thank you, Steve" Harry said, pride glowing in his eyes. "And I didn't put any cinnamon in the bread." At Steve's questioning look, he elaborated. "It is powdered unicorn horn. When mixed with flour, yeast and water, it makes that one that eats it taste what they desire most. In your case, you love the taste of cinnamon, so that is what you taste. In my case, I taste oranges."

They had been eating through Harry's entire explanation, and had finished the stew before a thought came to Steve. "Wait, wait, wait, what do you mean unicorns? They don't exist."

-Line-Break-

Harry sighed, knowing something like this would come up sooner or later. Thinking about his response, he said "Well this will eventually get into how I got here, so I will ask you to keep an open mind. Now one question, what do you know about magic?"

Steve looked at him puzzled by the question, before he replied. "Aside from magicians at carnivals and gypsy's who steal your money? It doesn't exist."

"As I said Steve, you need to keep an open mind" Harry said once Steve and answered him. He looked around the room, and quickly spotted the broken coffee table, moving over to it, aware that Steve was watching his every move. "Will you believe me if I were to show you some magic?"

Steve nodded, wondering where this was going, but didn't say anything.

Harry clicked his fingers, making his wand appear in his hand from its holster, making Steve's eyes widen in wonder. This wasn't what he was going to show Steve, and Harry knew that he didn't need a wand for a spell a simple as this, but as long as he made Steve believe him, he would be fine. Pointing his wand at the broken wood still lying on the floor, he waved his wand, incanting "Reparo" as he did so, a jet of grey light hitting the wood.

The wood immediately quivered and shook, before the slab of wood that acted as the table rose up, a large crack running through it mending as it rose. It still had a leg attached, though haphazardly, which quickly straightened out, the other legs flying up to reattach themselves to the table. The table seemed to be repaired of years of use, all the gouges and stains, scratches and nicks being removed. Finally, the table lowered back to the floor, shining with a new coat of varnish.

When the table was repaired, he waved his wand, sending another spell, this time a bright orange, towards the coffee table, and the two men watched as it morphed and changed, being transfigured into a kangaroo, that bounced on the spot, staring at Harry, as if waiting for orders. He looked to Steve, stifling a laugh at the look of pure awe and wonder on the man's face at the sight of magic being performed in his home. Cancelling the spell, Harry and Steve watched as the kangaroo morphed back into a table, leaving no trace of the animal ever being in the room.

"Do you believe me now?" Harry asked, receiving a nod in return. "Now I must ask, what is the date?"

Steve snapped out of his trance, before registering the question. "It is January 16th, 1941. Why?"

"Well as you can see, my clothes are completely different from yours" Harry replied, indicating the clothes he wore. "I am surprised myself to say that I am from the future, though time traveling wasn't what I expected to do."

"What do you mean, it wasn't what you expected?"

"Well, simple, really" Harry replied. "I stepped through what is known as the Veil, which no one has ever survived. From what we understood of it, we didn't know what would happen when I stepped into it, but I was told that I needed to, that there was someone on the other side that needed my help. And it think that may have been you."

Steve was a little shocked at the explanation, but understood that it was how Harry had appeared suddenly out of thin air. And he was most definitely grateful to Harry for saving his life, that's for sure. "So what are you going to do now?"

"I don't know. I don't want to go back anytime soon, what with the public clamouring for my head, but I would most definitely want to hang around near you. I want to make sure you stay healthy, and make sure all my work isn't for nothing. Money isn't a problem, that's for sure, but somewhere close by in case you need help would be perfect."

"Well there is a spare room here, if you want to stay. You would have to split the rent, and even if money isn't a problem, it would still be cheaper than paying for an apartment by yourself. And with the way the war is going, with so many immigrants coming over from Europe, you would have no luck in trying to get anything close to here at all."

"Really?" Harry asked, shocked that someone he had just met was offering to open their home to him. "Thanks, but I don't want to intrude…"

"Nonsense, Harry" Steve cut in, knowing where he was going. "You saved my life, and I can't thank you enough for doing that. You didn't even know me, and yet you saved my life when you didn't have to. So, you are free to stay here if you want, but I won't force you to do anything you don't want to."

"Okay, I will take you up on that offer" Harry said, a smile plastered on his face. "But I need to go to my bank, to exchange some money to help pay for the rent."

They sat in a mild silence for a few minutes, before they heard the front door opening and a tall, well-muscled man in a suite walked in. Steve perked up, seeing his one true friend, while Harry was wary, his stance moving to that of a defensive position in case he needed to do anything. He relaxed, if only slightly, at Steve's call of "Bucky" to the man, bringing the now named man's attention to the two of them.

"Steve" Bucky said, eyes narrowed at Harry, causing him to be on edge a little. "Who's this?"

Harry sighed. This was going to be one exhausting night he thought to himself, moving over to ladle some food into a bowl for the man, slicing some bread and placing it at an empty spot. "You might as well eat, sir, this is going to take a while."