Draco ran his fingers through his hair. "I should want to have sex with my boyfriend," he groaned in frustration. "Harry is more than I ever could have wanted…or deserved."

The Mind Healer listened intently.

"I love him. I do," he said to the floor. "I want to be close to him. I just… Why is it so hard for me? All of my friends…well it's all they go on about! Harry is gorgeous. I love kissing him, holding him. But with sex, it's just…I know Harry wants to. I should want to. But I just…"

Draco dragged a hand over his face. "I don't think about it. I don't have that… carnal urge or whatever nonsense. I don't think I even know what that is supposed to feel like…"

There was a beat of silence before the Healer spoke. "Have you ever considered you might be Asexual?"

Draco looked up, brow pinched in confusion. "Pardon?"

The Healer smiled at him, lowering their clipboard. "Asexual. What you've described to me feels like you might fall on the Ace spectrum."

Draco had heard the term before. He thought he recalled a discussion regarding Ron's brother Charlie at the Burrow. Molly had always been worried about her son's happiness, but it was clear that the man was happy. Alone.

"But I don't want to be alone! I want to be with Harry!" he said bitterly. "Salazar, I'm here so I don't end up alone!"

The Healer shook their head, smiling reassuringly. "It doesn't mean being alone, Draco. It has nothing to do with your emotional or even sensual needs." They conjured a pamphlet and passed it to him. "I ask that you give this a read, and we can discuss it next week if you desire. It just might give you the answers you've been searching for."

He looked down at the parchment, accented with shades of purples and greys. He thumbed through it, his eyes growing wider with each turn of the page.

He looked up again, and the Healer's smile was genuine and kind. "There's nothing wrong with you, Draco."

His eyes stung with unshed tears as he felt a weight lift from his shoulders, as if he was taking the first full breath of air not constrained by expectations by others…or himself.

"I'm not broken," he whispered, his hands trembling.

"No, Draco. You're not broken."

Harry pulled him in close, pressing a kiss to Draco's forehead as he trailed his fingers down his arm.

"I'm not broken," he whispered for what felt like the hundredth time. He knew it might take a few hundred more.

"No, love," said Harry, resting his cheek on the crown of Draco's head. "You're perfect."