Disclaimer: this character is not representative of asexual people, and the author does not believe that asexual people behave in manners similar to this character.

This is part of my NaNoWriMo story: Day 2

Full character list is on my Profile. Please read the Introduction: Day 1 first!

He eyed her across the room.

He'd never fallen for the nice girls Al had tried to set him up with. The few who had been interested in him, he'd liked more as a close friend than as a potential sexual partner. They'd confide in him, they'd hang out with him, and they'd be close friends. He was a very good listener and he would never make an inappropriate move on them. He was the stereotypical 'gay best friend'.

But he didn't see it that way.

The first time one of his girlfriends casually mentioned how he was gay, he retorted "I'm not gay! Why would you think that? Have I ever shown interest in a guy?" But apparently he was 'too defensive', was 'in denial', replied 'too quickly'. Clearly a woman he'd been seeing for a few weeks or months would know more about his sexuality than he did...

"But you never show interest in girls, sexually" they'd explain. They'd come to their own conclusion that since he was gay, it didn't matter if they got changed in front of him. She'd want to show off some new outfit she'd bought, so she'd just strip and change with him in the room. And then he'd tell them how beautiful they looked in their new dress, never once commenting on their state of undress.

No wonder they thought he was gay.

He always knew that he wasn't interested in men, so it was easy to reply "I'm not gay" with confidence. But he also knew that he wasn't interested in the nice girls that Al kept setting him up with. Was it just that he hadn't met 'the one'? That he had never gotten to know a girl well enough to develop sexual attraction to her? He didn't think so.

He could always talk about these things with his sister. She'd listen to him, though not necessarily understanding, she'd see that he was confused or hurt and offer a hug and remain quiet until he'd finished ranting. But he never had anyone to give him advice. Al would just make some crude remark, and he could never speak to mother or father about things like girls. Talking to his sister about such raw emotions made her know that she could trust him the most, so when she was feeling down, she'd call for him. She would never call father after what he did. She wouldn't talk to mother, who pretended it was okay but had never truly forgiven her after she lashed out at her during a fit of helpless rage. She couldn't talk to Al, who secretly resented her for turning their family upside down. She knew, she could feel their emotions and know if they really cared. Only he really understood. Only he really listened. But she didn't understand him.

He became her therapist, her counsellor, her confidant. She was the reason he kept trying in school, kept working hard. He knew he needed to get good grades if he was going to get into uni to become a real therapist. She deserved a trained professional, but wouldn't open up to anyone else, wouldn't call upon anyone else, wouldn't listen to anyone else. So it had to be him.

One time after a particularly lovely, beautiful, kind female friend who he felt close to, who everything felt right with, had accused him of being in denial about his sexuality, he came home upset. He went straight to Ariana and poured out his heart about how unfair it was that these girls would stop being his friend because they didn't think he was being 'true to himself'. It was then that he realized that he wasn't being true to himself, because he had simply ignored the true underlying question: what is his sexuality? He wasn't sexually interested in people, regardless of how physically or mentally attractive they were. But he had really liked his girlfriends who he could talk to, go out with, be with. And he felt heartbroken each time one of them would cut off their 'friendship', because it was more than simple friendship, they had a connection.

His sister said, in her halting voice, that "she was more than a friend, but not sex, it is romance" and he realized that she was right. He was asexual. He just wasn't interested in people sexually. Yes, he could notice when someone was beautiful, or 'attractive' or 'sexy', but it didn't excite him the way it did Al or the boys in his class. He felt and wanted a deep connection with some girls. He wanted to hold hands, go on dates, talk, hang out, but not sex.

He couldn't tell Al, because he just wouldn't understand. But now he knew, and next time he felt that way for a girl he would know what he wanted. And if she asked him, he could say that yes, he was interested, but he just wanted the romantic parts about a relationship. And he could say "I'm not gay, I'm interested in girls, I just don't want sex" with confidence.

But it's never that easy. She spread the word that he was gay, and no one would believe otherwise. He was sure Al had heard the rumour, but he stayed quiet, never coming to his brother's defence. Al also stopped setting him up on dates, and he was way too shy to ever ask a girl out himself, especially now.

So Aberforth stayed alone. He had friends, but he would no longer pursue the girls he felt that romantic pull towards. It was too hard knowing that he wanted a relationship and that they wouldn't think they were in one. And he didn't want to have to 'come out' – that was for gay people, and he wasn't gay, he was like the opposite of gay.

So the years went by.

Until today.

He saw her across the room.

He'd never been interested in anyone sexually before. He'd come to the realization he was ace several years ago now, and discovered the online community where he was finally able to categorise his feelings: asexual heteroromantic.

But now here she was.

And all of a sudden, she was in distress! She needed help, someone was attacking her! He pulled the boy away from her and gently asked if she was hurt, running his hands lightly over her body. She didn't protest, but leaned into his touch.

He knew it was wrong. He knew she couldn't tell him if she was consenting to his touch, but he justified it to himself, saying he was looking out for her best interests. He ran his hands down all four legs, checking for bruises, scratches, signs that she was in pain, but she just bleated happily.

Aberforth was so happy that the goat hadn't been hurt when Anakin attacked her for nibbling on his Calculus 1 book that he had yet to open. A loud multi-voice began to speak with a confusing, surprisingly loud stage whisper. It was upsetting the poor goat. Now that he thought about it, why was there a goat on Secondfloor? How did it get to uni, let alone up the stairs or in the elevator without someone calling security?

But he was avoiding the real question. What is he to do with the discovery that his sexuality isn't the neatly defined "asexual heteroromantic" that he'd discovered through blogs on the internet. It was "asexual heteroromantic to people, heterosexual to goats".

Or at least he thought he was only attracted to female goats.

But now was not really the time.

They were in a public place, after all.

And Aberforth had some laws to investigate before he took things any further...

To Be Continued...

(maybe)

A/N:

Yes, this is Aberforth Dumbledore, who is (almost) canonically into goats. I did a lot of research so I could write about asexuality and hetero-romanticism properly, and I'd like to thank those people for helping me. But this story is kinda stupid. Also, I'd like to think that the whole "finding out I'm ace" was still legitimate character development, which was mightily helped by some lovely people, since he didn't know he was into goats at the time.