A/N: So this is a short drabble-type thing from the First WW. Jily of course :) and I doubt anyone was wondering, but I'm obviously not JK Rowling and don't own the characters or the world they are in. Shame. Please favourite or review, I'm still learning how to write so I would really appriciate the feedback! And corrections on grammar etc.

He sat quietly in the darkness wand in his hand and his back against a tree. His eyes kept glancing the Moon above him. This was all familiar by now, he had spent countless nights there.

Waiting.

Looking for anything odd.

So far there had been nothing, so his nights were spent sitting there in the cold under the Invisibility Cloak thinking.

Missing her.

Imagening her touch, her laugh, her everything.

Failing at that.

They had been apart for what felt like forever. He couldn't risk sending her a letter, even patronuses were forbidden.

He was just supposed to sit there on guard.

In a place where she only existed in his thoughts.

In his memories.

In the darkest hours of the night he even thought he had imagined all of it.

Them.

When the whole world started to seem cruel enough to make him doubt even his own existence he put his hope on her.

On her being real.

On her caring about him.

On her loving him.

On her appearing before his eyes even once more before they closed for good.

She stirred the cauldron in front of her mechanically.

Two stirs clockwise, three counter-clockwise.

Repeat.

The moon shone little light through the window of the little dark room she was in. They had to work incognito, so lights were not allowed.

Her thoughts wondered the same familiar routes.

Him.

Him and her.

She had to keep believing he was still him.

That he was still here, under the same moon.

None of the Order members had heard of him, but that had been the plan all along.

She was to brew potions.

And worry.

He was to be the hero.

And alive.

Alive for her.

For them.

For their future.

She was sure now that he was her future.

She was going to say it when they met again.

If they would meet again.

If he still was breathing.

His heart beating.

Living.