The Other Boy

"All right there, Neville?"

"Yeah. Fine."

Ron gave him a small grin from his bed and then leaned back. He closed his eyes for a moment, then reopened them and glanced towards the door. He watched expectantly as the door slowly opened...and Madam Pomfrey walked in. Ron's face showed his obvious disappointment, but he said nothing of it, merely closed his eyes and leaned back again. He had been hoping for Harry, Neville knew.

Madam Pomfrey walked the length of the room, glancing at all of her patients to see that they were sleeping. Neville rolled over on his side and pretended until he heard her footsteps back towards the door. Although the shades were pulled in the room, Neville knew that the sun was already up. Neville had not slept in two days, but despite his exhaustion, he could not bring himself to now. Nightmares would wait for him the moment he closed his eyes. He had seen her. He had seen his parents' torturer. And she had killed Harry's godfather.

He felt rage boiling up within him once again, and he clenched his fists until it subsided. His nose still throbbed a little, though Madam Pomfrey had quickly healed it. He reached over to the shade and pulled it aside. Warm sunlight fell on his hand, but this just made Neville feel angrier. It would somehow feel better if it were raining. The fact that the sun was shining and soon there would be students all around the lawn made him feel unjustified.

Hermione was fast asleep across the room. Sunlight peeked through the window next to her and touched her golden hair. She was beautiful. He remembered that moment when both he and Harry had thought she was dead...the moment the Death Eater hit her with that curse. Neville had felt his heart break, and by the look in Harry's eyes, he knew that he had felt the same.

Neville heard the door creak and swing open, and he instinctively rolled over again so as not to get yelled at by Madam Pomfrey. He lay there quietly, but he did not hear the familiar clicking of Pomfrey's boots; instead, he heard the soft rustle of school robes and the creak of the bed next to Hermione as someone sat down. Neville chanced a look across the room. Harry sat on the bed, looking at Hermione, his shoulders shaking in silent sobs. He pulled his glasses off and set them on the bed next to him, lowering his head into his hand. His whole body shook, and he hiccoughed quietly, trying to keep from crying out in his pain.

Neville found himself remembering all the times that he had desperately wished that he could be Harry Potter. When he saw Ron, Hermione and Harry huddled together and talking in the common rooms, how he had desperately wished he were the famous one with all the friends and admirers, instead of the foolish Near-Squib that everyone considered him to be. How often had he thought that he would rather his parents died gloriously? Instead, his parents lived on as reminders to Neville. And he would then chastise himself, hating himself for thinking so disloyally against his parents.

I always wanted to be the Boy Who Lived, thought Neville. Until now, he added, realizing that he was witnessing The Boy Who Lived in a moment where he was wishing he were dead. It wasn't fair that Harry had to go through this pain. Yes, he had admirers. Yes, he had been a hero since before he could eat solid foods. Yes, he has Hermione, Neville thought with a pang in his chest. But was this the price that one had to pay for all those things?

But, I've had pain too...pain that nobody has ever bothered to help me with. Harry has friends to help him through his pain! Who have I got? Even the people in my own house think I'm a screw-up, thought Neville, his rage bubbling to the surface once again. My parents weren't just killed...they were tortured. Where's my fame? Where's my glory? Why can't I have been...

He sat straight up in bed. Harry looked over at him, then quickly wiped his eyes on his sleeve. Neville pushed his rage back down within him. Harry never asked for any of this, he reminded himself. He forced a smile at Harry.

"All right there, Neville?" Harry asked in a weak voice.

"Yeah. Fine."