They’ve never been very much alike, he and Albus. Sure, they both resemble their father and inherited their mother’s poor eyesight, but the similarities tended to end with the physical. It’s easy not to constantly be in someone’s shadow if you’re nothing like them, after all. When Albus goes off to do great things that get written about in the Daily Prophet and make him a household name, Aberforth practices his charms (an area where he actually excels Albus) and is content with being known by those who are around for last call.
Aberforth has little use for proclamations of Albus’ bravery and intellect. He’s his big brother, even if he’s a right pain in the arse at times, so he knows all of Albus’ strengths without needing to be told. Hearing it constantly can get to be tiresome, though, which is one thing that makes the Hog’s Head so appealing. People that come in here don’t rave about Albus and his amazing talents. It’s easy to forget that they’re even brothers except for the occasional lunches where they’re able to talk as if they’d just seen each other yesterday.
Now, though, Aberforth has to admit that it’s difficult being Albus Dumbledore’s kid brother. After all, if Albus wasn’t the most powerful wizard in centuries, he’d still be alive. And Aberforth wouldn’t be sitting at the bar still dressed in his funeral robes drinking Ogdens trying not to cry.