THOSE CUNNING FOLKS

the castle is built over a sheer cliff. every window you look out of shows a steep drop down into a ravine. you put it out of your mind. nobody seems to fall. one day, a boy from your class throws a quaffle too close to the edge. the next day he is missing, and so is his desk. nobody speaks of him after that.

you are trying to get to transfiguration, but you don’t know the way. you lean on a wall as you look around you, trying to get your bearings. the solid brick disappears under your hand and you fall through to a cobwebbed room, thick with dust. you turn back, but the wall is firm and unyielding once more. this room has no windows or doors. the floor opens underneath you.

the castle is throwing a feast tonight. food is piled up on the tables higher than your head. there was a feast last night, too. and the night before. your classmates are talking excitedly around you. they say this is the first feast they have had. the food is rich and filling, the best you have ever tasted. you eat as though you are starving. there is another feast tomorrow.

there are ghosts in the castle. they drift between the walls, fog-white and blank-eyed. you have never seen so many in one place before. did they all die in the castle? you ask one but he just smiles.

you are trying to get to transfiguration, but you don’t know the way. you think it’s just up this flight of stairs. as you run up, your foot catches on a trick step and you sink into the stone. panicking, you try to lift your feet, but you are stuck fast. a prefect walks by on his way down. you call out to him to try and pull you out, but he doesn’t hear you. when you look down, your skin is white as marble.

in the library, you are sitting doing your homework when a cat slinks by your table. it looks up at you with piercing eyes. you remember seeing professor mcgonagall transform, filch and his cat hanging around. is this either of them? you don’t remember. the cat looks at you as though it can see right through you.

the forest is forbidden, they say. your classmates keep being sent into it. some get detention. some take care of magical creatures. some are cornered in the hallway by a teacher, and told to fetch something from within the trees. when they return, there is a haunted look in their sunken eyes. the forest is forbidden, they say in a monotone. the forest is forbidden.

it is time for the mandrakes to be harvested. you are standing in the greenhouse holding a pair of shears. professor sprout tells you to take the mandrake out of its pot and start to cut it up. the twisting, screaming plant has a human face, distorted into a mask of agony. you remember last week, the mandrakes were having a party in the greenhouses. you hold it up before you. professor sprout tells you to start cutting. the mandrake’s face looks just like yours.

you are trying to get to transfiguration, but you don’t know the way. you ask a passing sixth-year how to get there. she points you to a secret passage, hidden behind a statue of an owl. it turns its head around when you stroke its back, revealing a small passage through the walls. you shuffle through the crawlspace on hands and knees for what feels like miles, until you reach the end. the sixth-year stands in the corridor before you. you ask her where the transfiguration classroom is. she points you to a secret passage, hidden behind a tapestry of an olive tree. you pull it aside open to reveal a small crawlspace. at the other end is another corridor, with that sixth-year standing there. you beg her to just take you to the classroom. she points at a painting of a snake in the opposite wall.

you are only allowed to bring an owl, a cat, or a toad to hogwarts. your best friend sneaks a mouse in and hides her in your dorm. after a week, your friend asks you to feed her for a day. you take the cage out of its hiding place and look at the mouse. she ribbits back at you.

in defence against the dark arts, you are learning how to fight a boggart. the girl before you transformed it into a jack-in-the-box, its giant, bulbous head grinning as it rocks back and forth. everyone around you is laughing. the clown’s head leers at you as you stand and shake. she was meant to turn it into something funny. the laughter is loud in your ears. the clown’s eyes stare into your soul. this is your greatest fear now. everyone else is still laughing.

So, as an asexual person myself, I’ve decided to give some reminders for all you lovely ace people.

You are valid

You are real

You are a part of the LGBT community

You can have a fulfilling relationship without sex

If you feel like you aren’t fulfilling your partner because you don’t have sex, you are wrong, your partner would not be with you if they didn’t feel fulfilled

Although, if your partner claims they aren’t fulfilled because you aren’t having sex with them, dump their ass and find someone who respects you

You can be ace no matter your age, gender, race, etc.

IT’S OKAY TO BE ACE AND LIKE SEX

IT’S OKAY TO BE ACE AND LIKE SEX

IT’S OKAY TO BE ACE AND LIKE SEX

You do not have to be aromantic to be ace (I’m a biromantic ace myself)

However, aro-ace people are just as valid

You are not obligated to explain the nuances of your asexuality to anyone unless you’re planning to have sex with them

TW - SEXUAL ASSAULT

Having been assaulted is not always why you’re asexual, but sometimes, having been assaulted is why you’re asexual. Both are valid. (change made here because what I wrote earlier wasn’t phrased well)

TW OVER

You are not “broken”

You are not a “prude”

Demisexuals, Greysexuals, Cupiosexuals, and anyone else on the ace spectrum are also valid

But, most of all

You are loved

Draco Malfoy & Hermione Granger: