For Shay, via the Monthly Oneshot Exchange. Louis Weasley, asexual, daisies, family.

Word Count: 1207

Louis almost laughs. Dominique is dressed head to toe in black. From the floppy black hat atop her dyed raven hair, to the black dress and black combat boots. And yet she sits by the garden, carefully tying daisies together at the stem and crafting a flower crown.

"Aren't you supposed to be a scary goth kid?" he teases, offering her a small smile.

His sister looks up for half a second before returning her attention back to the task at hand. "I don't follow labels," she says simply before holding the daisy chain up and examining it. "Did you want something?"

Louis hesitates. For a moment, he'd almost forgotten why he came out here at all. Seeing his sister outside in the sunshine rather than brooding in her room had been enough of a shock to wipe the questions and concerns in his mind.

He clears his throat, pushing a hand through his messy strawberry blond curls. The words feel like they're stuck in the back of his throat, and they refuse to come out. Instead, the only sound be can make is a pitiful, choked sob.

Dominique abandons her flowers and jumps to her feet, resting her slender hands on his shoulders. "Louis?" She gives him a gentle shake, and he finally dares to meet her gaze. "What's wrong? Who do I have to kill?"

He shakes his head mutely. For several moments, he can't speak. The word are there, but he doesn't know how to voice them.

Finally, his voice trembling, he manages to say, "I think I'm broken."

His sister's expression softens, and she wraps her arms around him, pulling him into a tight hug. Louis rests his head on her shoulder, sniffling. He hadn't expected to feel so much. He's kept this inside long enough that he's almost convinced himself he's numb to it. But he's not. Tears sting his eyes, and he lets them fall.

"You're not broken," Dominique says, rubbing his back. "Why would you think that?"

Again, the words refuse to come. His mind races, and he knows exactly what's wrong, but he can't seem to form a sentence.

"Louis?" Dominique releases him and steps back, her crystal blue eyes studying him intently. "You can talk to me about anything."

He knows that, of course. His family has always been close, and his parents have emphasized the importance of talking. Aside from that, he knows that Dominique, his very openly lesbian sister, would understand better than anyone else. Won't she? He wants to believe that she'll know the words to say to reassure him, but he feels doubt creeping in. At least she knows she likes girls, just like Victoire knows she likes boys.

But Louis? He's tried. Kissing boys feels just as weird as kissing girls does. He wants to be able to date them, kiss them, love them because that's what normal people do. But there's something wrong with him; he is abnormal.

"Hey," Dominique says, drawing him out of his thoughts. "Talk to me."

"There's something wrong with me."

The words seem to spill from his lips as though a floodgate has been opened. He doesn't even think about it now; he just speaks. Maybe it doesn't make any sense, but Dominique still purses her lips and nods, and Louis is grateful that she listens and at least pretends to understand what he's going through.

When he finally finishes, his cheeks are damp with tears. Louis wipes them away, his cheeks burning. He hates crying in front of other people. Crying in front of Dominique is the worst because she's so tough, and it makes Louis feel weak.

She doesn't mock him for it. Instead, she offers him a bright smile and kisses his forehead. "I told you that you aren't broken, doofus," she chuckles.

Louis blinks in confusion, his head tipped to the side. After everything he's told her, how can she act like he's normal? People are supposed to fall in love and live out their days with their partner until they reach their happily ever after. They aren't supposed to be like Louis, who doesn't feel any attraction at all, who doesn't know if he even wants that fairytale romance life.

"Were you listening to me?" he asks incredulously. "I don't like people." He winces at the phrasing. "Ugh! You know what I mean."

"I do." His sister offers him a smirk that looks almost triumphant. "You mean you're asexual."

"Asexual?" he echoes, wondering if Dominique is taking the mickey. "You calling me algae?"

She rolls her eyes and shakes her head before grinning at him. Louis hates that expression. It's her way of telling him that he's pretty slow for a Ravenclaw. "Not like that. It means you don't experience sexual attraction. From what you've said, you may be aromantic."

Louis groans. Dominique is essentially a queer dictionary. Sometimes she seems to forget that not everyone knows the things she knows. "Care to simplify that?"

"Hmm? Oh. Sorry. It means you don't even feel romantic attraction." She folds her arms over her chest and studies him for a moment, lips pursing in thought. "But there's a word for what you are, and there are others like you."

"I thought you don't follow labels," he reminds her.

"Some labels are okay. They give you a sense of identity and remind you that you aren't alone," she explains. "We need that feeling of belonging sometimes. But don't feel the need to cling to it."

Louis feels like his head spinning. Some labels are good? Don't cling to them? Sometimes he thinks his sister was a sphinx in her past life. She is a little too fond of speaking in riddles. "Meaning?"

"Sexuality, identity… It's not really solid. Not always. It can be quite fluid. It's like… Remember when you were four and wanted to be a pirate?"

He nods, but he doesn't see where she's going with this. As far as he knows, pirates and asexuality have nothing to do with each other.

"Ten years later, and you want to be a wandmaker," she continues. "It's like that sometimes. Five years down the road, you might discover you're demisexual, or who knows what. Or you may be the same. Just… Just remember that it doesn't matter how many times you come out as something different. Once. A dozen times. A million times. You're my brother, and I love you. I want you to be happy."

It feels as though a weight has been lifted off his chest. His lips quirk into a genuine smile. He isn't defective. There are others like him, and he has the most amazing sister in the world to support him as he figures himself out. "How did I get so lucky?" he asks, his smile broadening to a bright grin. "I don't know what I would do without you."

"In that case, you can buy me an ice cream," she says sweetly, her lips pursing into a mock pout.

He snorts. "I didn't say I like you enough for that," he teases. "But ice cream does sound nice. Race you?"

"You're on."

As they run, Louis can't help but laugh. His demons are slowly fading, and he is free.