For some years Aberforth had begun to hate his reflection.
He didn't like what he saw in that filthy pane of glass.
And not because he was getting old but because, the more time went by, he realized that he was very similar to his brother.
In his lines of age and expression he saw Albus's.
He saw it in the same bright eyes, in the same long gray beard as their hair.
He could see his brother's quiet face, even in his frown.
Aberforth had begun to hate himself.
He didn't just look like Albus physically, they were similar in character as well.
As much as he tried to deny it, his memories confirmed every hypothesis of him.
Past memories were his only company, they were imprinted on his mind.
He didn't need a pensieve.
Ariana's pale, frightened face was vivid in his head.
Those clear eyes of hers lifeless, at times, were tinged with black as well as her long blond hair.
His sister's face changed to that of his son.
Different colors but the same suffering in her gaze.
Prisoners in the same loneliness, in the same pain.
Albus had let Ariana go for love of Gellert, that love that had killed her.
Aberforth had let his son go because of his grudge against his brother.
He hadn't asked him for help.
He was left alone in the hatred of him which then fell upon his son.
He had been selfish like Albus.
Others had paid for their mistakes.
And this Aberforth would never forgive himself.
He had ignored who he was supposed to love and protect.
Neither he nor Albus were worthy of having a family.
They were destined for the solitude of past memories.
Albus pretended to be fine in his glory as headmaster of Hogwarts.
Aberforth pretended to feel nothing in the Hog's Head's mediocre bartending routine.