Warnings. Boy love. Don't like it, don't read it.

Disclaimer. All characters belong to J.K. Rowling.

.x.

He couldn't even look at himself in the mirror without the tears threatening to overflow once again. Unable to meet the silver eyes that stared back at him not in cool indifference, but in agonizing betrayal, showing a wound that was much too deep that should never had risen this close to the surface. It scared him; what if something went wrong in his lover's presence? What if he lost the control that his father had made sure was immaculate? What if everything fell apart?

Those few that knew him said he was on a quest, searching for something lost long ago, now buried under years' worth of dust and fallen towers. They couldn't have hit any closer to home, which terrified him even deeper to the core than breaking down in front of his precious person. Sure, everything about their relationship could be viewed as flawed, ready to shatter in a moment's notice should their old rivalry make a reappearance. But he knew for a fact that that wasn't going to happen; after all, he still had a task to complete.

Running a tired hand through disheveled silver-blond locks, the young man braced himself to peer at his reflection once more. And this time, he wasn't going to look away until all the pieces of the puzzle reassembled themselves, forming the perfect picture that had been destroyed the second his father had laid eyes on him.