Aberforth seems to inspire longer drabbles; this one is another 300-word drabble. Aberforth is a young man here, in his early twenties. This is based on the canon detail about Aberforth that he was once in trouble for casting inappropriate charms on goats. Rated T.
Aberforth sat on the stained mattress, head lowered, hands gripping the bedframe, knuckles white. Dust motes floated in pale bands of light from a high, barred window.
“Honestly, I know you like goats, Abbie, but that’s going too far,” Albus said, tugging his short beard and lifting a lip in disgust.
“That’s not what I was doin’,” Aberforth muttered. “I’d never do that to one o’ me goats.”
“Crawley said there was a witness.”
“Don’t believe yer own brother. ’Kay. S’fine.”
Albus crouched down. “Tell me, then.”
“Can’t. ’Tis a matter of honour.” He glanced up. “D’you still understand ‘honour,’ Albus?”
Albus touched his brother’s jaw, raising his face to the light. “What did they do to you?”
Aberforth pushed his hand away. “I wouldn’t agree to Veritaserum. They ga’ me bruises instead.”
“I’ll speak to Chief Auror Prewett. He’ll sack the scoundrels.”
Shrugging, Aberforth said, “Doesn’t really matter.”
“At least tell me why they arrested you for, um, what they did. What really happened, Abbie?”
Aberforth’s eyes met his brother’s, then he nodded. “I was with Pearl. You know her father doesn’t approve of me. We were in the barn … busy. We didn’t hear anyone coming till they were practically next to us. I Transfigured her into the first thing that came t’ mind. Wanted t’ save her modesty. I’ve never been the one with Transfiguration you are. Me spell just transformed her top half, not her … legs and such.” Aberforth reddened. “The second spell took; she run away. But Davies already seen me naked, her half-Transfigured. Probably wore off now.”
“Why don’t you just tell them?”
“Can’t. Pearl’s … virtuous. And her father would … He’d do somethin’.”
“I’ll go talk to her. She’ll speak up for you.”
Aberforth hesitated. “Be kind to her. I’m savin’ fer our wedding, see.”