A/N: Another songfic

A/N:  Another songfic.    This story turned out nothing like I thought it would, but I like it.  I did a bunch of changes so the song would fit the HP crew, but the chorus and overall feeling stayed the same.  Oh, bold is flashback and italics (if they WORK) are the song.

Disclaimer:  As you ought to know by now, everything having to do with Harry Potter is the work of J.K. Rowling, not me.  And the song is (I think) 'Be That' by Three Doors Down.

            "Another outstanding victory from the illustrious Harry Potter!" Fred hooted, shooting pressurized pumpkin-juice from a bottle.

            I watched the victory party from a little ways off.  I always do that, and no one seems to object.  Just watching them all makes me grin.  But this time, I had some unexpected company.

            "Hey, Neville," Ron sighed, sitting next to me.

            "Hey, Ron.  How're you doing?"

            He seemed to have forgotten my presence the second after he'd acknowledged it and was now staring back at the celebration.  His eyes followed Harry, a mixture of sorrow and envy in them.  I knew what was going through his mind.

He spends his nights in the common room

Watchin' the boy with eyes so green.

And then he lies awake and he wonders

"Why can't that be me?"

            "You okay, Ron?" I ask, hoping to start a conversation.

             "Yeah," he said with a sigh, "It's just…"

            "It's just what?"

            "I don't know.  I try so hard; I really do.  But it all seems like nothing compared to…" he heaved another sigh.

            "Do you want to talk about it?"

            "Nah.  I'm okay, really."

'Cause in his life he's filled

With all these good intentions.

He's felt a lot of things

He'd rather not mention

Right now.

            The party seemed to be heightening rather than quelling as time went by.  It wasn't long before Ron stood up, saying he was headed off to bed.  He paused a moment, watching his brothers pretend to toss Harry into the fire.

            "You know what, Neville?" he asked, a sad smile crossing his face, "Sometimes I wish that just for one day I could be Harry Potter."

            Then he walked up the stairs to the dormitory, his echoing steps almost as depressing as his expression.

Just before he says goodnight,

He looks up with a little smile at me

And he says,

If I could be like that…

I would give anything

Just to live one day

In those shoes.

If I could be like that

What would I do?

What would I do?

            Time passed, and I forgot about that night.  That is until one afternoon I went into the dormitory and found Harry staring out the window.

            "Hey, Harry."

            He jumped, turning around.  "Oh, hi, Neville."

            "What're you looking at?"

            He sighed.  "Oh, just the Weasleys."

            I looked out the window and spotted a jumble of bodies and red hair.  Apparently the Weasley family was playing tag-team wrestling; Fred and George against Ron and Ginny.

He spends his days up in his bedroom

Watchin' the people as they pass.

And all he wants is just a little piece of those dreams.

Is that too much to ask?

            "They're so lucky, Neville," he sighed.

            "How so?"

            "They have a normal wizard house and normal wizard parents…and each other.  They have a family."

            My heart gave a little pang of grief.  I knew exactly how he felt…

With a safe home, and a warm bed,

On a quiet little street.

Well, all he wants is just that something to hold onto;

That's all he needs.

            We sat there a moment in silence, watching those four happy children who had what each of us pined for.

"Sometimes," Harry said softly, looking wistfully out the window, "I wonder what it would be like to be Ron Weasley."

If I could be like that…

I would give anything

Just to live one day

In those shoes.

If I could be like that,

What would I do?

What would I do?

            The year was coming near the end.  I could hear the heavy breathing of the other boys, but I couldn't get to sleep.  I'd had a dream.  Not so much a dream as reminiscence.  My parents and I had been at the beach when I was five.  It is my fondest memory.

            "C'mon, Neville!" my mother laughed as she waded in the water.

            I hesitated, watching the waves apprehensively.  My bare feet inched away from the wet sand.

            "Don't be afraid, Neville.  I'm protect you," she smiled, holding her hands out to me.

            Determined, I rushed into the waves towards her.  I splashed my way to her and she lifted me high over her head, both of us laughing.

            "Good job, Neville!  See?  There was nothing to be afraid of," she smiled, spinning me around.

            We splashed around a bit and then joined my dad in collecting shells.  I was elated at finding a conk shell and kept it with me the rest of the day.

            We arrived back home, and I felt sad.  I had wanted to stay at the ocean forever.  My dad came up to me as I was sorrowfully studying my shell.

            "I miss the ocean."

            "But you have it right here."

            "Huh?"

            He held the shell to my ear and a marveled as I heard the sound of waves once more.

            "The ocean!" I cried happily, "How'd it get in there?"

            Dad smiled, patting my back, "That's a magic greater than any we'll ever know."

I'm fallin' into distant dreams,

Where we run away…

            I still have the shell.  It is a comfort, knowing that even if something is gone forever, its remnants could always be with me…like a memory.  I remembered what Harry had said, and I knew that I would give anything to have the family Ron did.  But Harry didn't know how lucky he was.  He hadn't known his parents; he didn't live with the memory of what life had been like before…  And he could grieve.  I couldn't.  You can't grieve the living.

If I could be like that…

I would give anything

Just to live one day

In those shoes.

If I could be like that,

What would I do?

What would I do?

            I watched as Harry, Ron, and Hermione went off with their families.  My gram called my name, and I ran up and gave her a hug.

            "How was your school year?" she asked as we got into her rickety car.

            "Pretty okay."

            As we started to drive away, I reached into my pocket, pulling out the shell.  I gently ran my fingers over its rough, orange surface, reaching the smooth pink area near the opening.  Even though I knew features of the shell better than my face, I never tired of holding it; looking at it; listening to it.

            "What do you have there?" Gram asked, keeping her eyes on the road.

            "Oh nothing.  Just my shell…"

I'm fallin' in.

I feel like I'm fallin' into this…

Again…