7

Chapter Seven: More Then Just Physical (But There's That Too)

Potter

Harry eye's popped open. He was still in his robes, his glasses smashed into the side of his face and his shoed feet dangled off the side of his bed. He over came his disorientation and removed his glasses completely. The room was dark and silent. A look at his watch told Harry it was three in the morning.

He licked his dry mouth as he waited. He wasn't sure if he was dreaming or if Malfoy called to him. The silence didn't help.

He removed his shoes and socks, then discarded his robe to the floor. He pulled his pants off and was moving to find pajama bottoms when a voice stilled his actions.

My mother's ill.

Harry didn't know how to respond.

She...

The doctor said it was her heart. A common muggle illness.

Harry scooted back on his bed.

I've never seen my father cry before.

I don't know... Pansy owled me. I haven't gotten back to her yet. I don't know what to say.

There was a long stretched silence.

Sorry, Potter I didn't realize the time. I'll let you get back to sleep. If you aren't already.

Are you? Are you awake?

I'm here.

Harry wanted to say more, but didn't know how or what.

You are. I wish I was there too. I just want...

He broke off once more and was quiet so long Harry almost went back to sleep.

My father gave me firewhisky. He said it would help me sleep, but I haven't been able to. I always thought my father was so strong, that he could do anything, fix anything.

But he can't fix this.

I can't fix this. She's broken. We were supposed to take care of her and now she's broken.

Malfoy was crying.

Harry felt like he'd been kicked in the stomach. He had an aching need to put his arms around the blonde and comfort him, do anything to make his tears stop. 'I'm sorry' didn't seem like enough, but he said it any way.

I'm sorry.

I want to forget. I want this feeling to end. I can't take it.

Harry swore he heard the blonde inhale.

Distract me, Potter. His tone had changed completely. It was a demand, but a quivering plea lay just underneath it.

How?

I don't know, think of something.

Harry racked his brain. It didn't help that he was still groggy. He could practically taste Malfoy's anguish it was so palpable. It was like a knife in his gut. He wanted to get rid of it so badly.

I saw Whittany today. She was...well, she was with that boy.

You disappoint me.

Despite the joking, Harry felt like a failure. He had wanted to help the other boy and now he finally had the chance. But it wasn't going very well.

I think I might be attracted to guys.

There was no immediate response.

Harry prayed he didn't just say that out loud, but knew he didn't and that was the problem. He just told Malfoy his inner most secret. The idea of telling just his friends frightened him, but some how he'd managed to blurt it out to his former rival.

In retrospect Harry didn't think it was wise to tell the boy you almost regularly wanked with you were possibly gay. Especially when said boy was depressed about his sick mother and obviously drunk. Malfoy could take it to mean any number of things.

Harry made a mental note never to have a conversation at three in the morning again. His brain wasn't designed for that.

Any bloke in particular?

Harry reeled back in surprise. Of all the possible responses he imagined that was not one of them. Squirming on his bed, he hesitated. He really didn't want to have this talk, but Malfoy had taken an interest.

And if it got his mind off the unpleasant things in his life, then Harry would endure the suffering. Besides, the blonde had shared personal details with him. It was only fair Harry give something back.

Not exactly.

But he wasn't going to make it easy.

Hmmm. Then how do you know?

Again the question surprised him. He thought about it.

I just know. It's like you knowing what kind of ice cream flavor you're going to get.

I always pick different flavors. I get bored with the same ones.

Harry rolled his eyes.

Okay, so maybe it's like knowing that you won't like lemon flavored, because you prefer Bavarian raspberry crunch.

Have you ever had Bavarian raspberry crunch?

Malfoy, he warned. Sick mother or not Malfoy was getting close to something Harry had no desire to get into.

Fine. But I was right.

About what?

You. You do have a dirty little secret.

It's not a dirty little secret.

Does any one be-sided- be-sides your Granger and Weasel know?

Harry ignored the name calling. He noticed the slip in the other boy's speech and wondered how much he'd drunk or how long ago he stopped. If he stopped at all. He was taking longer to answer each time and if it were possible to hear a slur in some one's mind Harry would have.

He didn't respond right away. He wasn't going to tell the blonde he hadn't told any one else yet.

I wonder what else goes on in that head of yours. Sometimes, I wish I could see more. I keep looking for that thing that makes you so special, but I haven't found it yet.

Malfoy seemed to be back to rambling. Harry let out a breath when he realized the blonde didn't notice his lack of an answer.

You are very peculiar.

A beat of stillness.

My mother likes you.

Harry stayed quiet.

She thinks I should try and get along with you. She's always told me so. I used to think it was because you were famous and she wanted the best for me.

I was half right. She always could tell what a person was like on the inside. It's a gift she has. Like she could see their soul. Your soul must be good.

Harry began to feel awkward. Not only from the compliment, but the fact that he knew Malfoy was going to regret his drunken rant come morning. He would probably find a way to blame it on the Gryffindor.

He felt slightly guilty at taking advantage of the blonde in this situation, but did nothing to stop him from continuing.

A person's eyes are the window to their soul, she says. It makes sense. You have pretty eyes.

She's a tough woman. Strong, a fighter. She'll get through this...Right?

Harry wanted to say yes more then anything and he wanted it to be true.

She will.

Whether the alcohol had finally worked it's way through Malfoy's system, magically numbing his feelings or he really just needed to hear it, the pep talk he gave himself worked. Harry could tell the other boy's weight on his shoulder's lifted at least for the moment.

Thank you, Potter. Talking with you has made me sleepy now.

Harry waited ten minutes before he figured the blonde passed out.

Malfoy didn't reach out to him again. It was three days later and by accident when he discovered the other boy was even back in the castle. Harry caught a flash of blonde while leaving the great hall early. He'd progressively lost his appetite over the last seventy two hours.

His hunger dissipated as his head aches increased.

The lack of contact was warring him down and he could only imagine what it was doing to Malfoy. His mind was calling for the blonde, but getting no answer. And it wasn't happy about that. Harry felt like he'd been run over by a truck.

His limbs ached, his mind had a near constant angry hurt and he couldn't sleep more then an hour at a time. Every time he drifted off, his mind filled with visions of things Harry was glad he couldn't remember when he woke up because they scared the crap out of him while he was asleep.

All because of the distance between them.

But now the blonde was back. Standing right in front of him.

The Gryffindor stopped in his tracks and froze, angling his still body like a hound with a scent. Malfoy was white as a sheet, skinny and wearing what could have been the same robe he'd left school in three days ago. His hair was loose around his face and he swayed on his feet as he stood looking at Harry.

" I'm back."

" I see."

" How's... everything." Harry changed his mind mid sentence. He didn't want to bring up Malfoy's mother. The Slytherin's appearance screamed 'everything's utter shit', but he answered any way.

" Better, but still..." Harry watched the boys lip tremble and felt his own urge to cry. All Harry saw before him was a little boy who was scared his mother was going to die. Without thinking, he closed the space between them and took Malfoy into his arms.

The boy stiffened, then shoved roughly. Harry stumbled back. Malfoy turned on his heel and fled.

Harry tried not to feel rejected.

He snuck a glance around to make sure no one had seen the almost hug and the clear rejection.

He was alone.

" Harry, we need to talk."

" Are you breaking up with me? Please, I'm sorry. I love you. Don't leave me."

Harry smirked at his red headed friend. They were in between classes; he was resting on this bed and Ron was pacing the room.

" I'm serious. I need your help with something."

Harry put on his grown-up face. His friend really seemed distraught. He watched the other boy fidget with a toy broom stick, before setting it back down upside down.

" It's kind of... I don't... But with all Hermione's talk about inter-house ... I think I'm in love."

Harry sat straight up.

" What do mean? With who?"

" I don't know if you remember, but..." He stopped short and started pacing again.

" Ron, what is it?" Harry got off the bed and walked over to his friend. He set a hand on Ron's shoulder. The other boy cringed and found something interesting on the floor.

" Is it a bloke?" He asked hesitantly.

" What! No, no, but it's not. She's just..."

" What?" Harry was getting nervous. He remember fourth year when Ron was under the influences of the love potion. This situation seemed eerily similar.

" What's her name?" Maybe the red head could answer that simple question.

" Almeda. And she's gorgeous. And smart and funny."

The name didn't sound familiar. He ran a list of people it could be in his head. He hoped it wasn't their Defense teacher. She wasn't called Professor Amor for nothing. She was attractive, young and Ron mentioned those things often enough. Harry strained to remember her first name. It would be just like Ron to fall for a teacher.

"We were in the same group at Hermione's thing and after you left, we just got along so well. It was like magic."

Harry let out a breath.

" So what's the problem? Does she have a boyfriend?"

Ron gaped at Harry then started pacing again.

" I don't know. I didn't even think of that. I don't think so. She would have mentioned it, right?"

Harry nodded.

" Harry, I'm sorry."

Harry, perplexed, watched his friend gather courage.

" I'm sorry for being so hard on you, for not hating Malfoy anymore."

" We've talked about this. You're not doing anything wrong. It's a confusing situation. But what does that have to do with anything?"

" She's in Slytherin."

The brunette watched his friend watch him. He wasn't clear on what type of reaction the red head was expecting.

" Oh."

" Yeah." Ron responded, as if that explained everything.

" So, are you going to ask her out?"

" I can't."

" Are really going to let a stupid thing like Slytherin and Gryffindor get in your way? Hermione's right, in another year none of that will matter."

" No, it's not that. It's just, I was already nervous and that was before you mentioned a boyfriend."

" Ron. You have to take a chance. If you like her and you really get along like you say, then it'll be alright."

" Thanks mate." It was obvious Harry's words didn't get through to the teen.

Harry was shaking. At first it was light, a tiny quiver of the hand, a random shiver here or there. He blamed it on an open window, a cold draft. The full spasm of his muscles left quick then they came and he brushed it off.

As he did, a cool sweat bead fell into his eye. He rubbed the sting away and took notes on Professor McGonagall's lesson. He ignored the small, but growing, tight hot knot in his gut. Just nervousness.

By lunch he was so uncomfortable he considered heading to Madam Pomfrey. He knew she wouldn't be able to help. One thought of her overwhelmed face quickly killed that idea.

By dinner he knew it was a problem that wasn't going to end. He could feel it, but wasn't sure what to do about it. His arm shook, losing it's handle on the spoon. He dropped it three times before surrendering and heading up to bed.

He refused to go to Malfoy. The other boy hadn't acknowledged him since he got back. Unless you count the shove of rejection outside the great hall.

The pain and sickness Harry felt in his absence cut down to a degree, no doubt due to having the blonde in close proximity again. But it wasn't enough. Harry's symptoms were starting to get more physical as time went by.

They hadn't talked through their bond in two days and Harry was trying to hold on. He reasoned Malfoy needed time, that this was too much to ask of the boy right now. He had other things on his mind and Harry didn't want to bother him.

Flipping around uselessly, kicking the sheets and a shoe he left on his bed to the floor, he groaned into the pillow. His skin was crawling. There was an itch some where deep in his mind that needed to be scratched, but it was just out of reach and he didn't have the tools.

He was so out of his mind with the feel of it, he didn't question when Malfoy sent an order to met him.

It was a secluded location. Some where Harry couldn't have found again if he tried, even with Malfoy barking out directions in his head.

When he reached the blonde Harry had one second before he was attacked. Malfoy grabbed his shirt, threw him into the wall and promptly pressed his body fully into Harry's. A shiver ran through them both.

So good.

It was stupid to stay away for so long. On both their parts. And now that they were sharing again. Sharing words, sharing touches, sharing space. They almost couldn't stop.

Harry found his arms automatically embracing the boy in front of him, pulling him closer. It felt like there was a hole in Harry, a hole that was now filled to the top.

He felt solid, real, there.

Harry inhaled lilacs and rubbed his cheek against the pale skin on Malfoy's face. He got a hand under his shirt in return. It was cold at first, but the temperature was quickly forgotten as the hand started to move.

Fingers traced his spine, up half way to the middle of his back then dipping low to the hem of his pants, each time sending a shock through him.

They had moved away from the original wall they were pressed against. Now Harry wasn't sure what was keeping his knees from buckling beneath him.

Malfoy clung to him tightly, breathing rapidly and Harry thought maybe he was fighting back tears. Was the blonde even aware of what his hand was doing to him? He hoped so, because his need for more was growing. Immediately he felt selfish.

Awkwardly he lifted his hand and gave Malfoy a pat on the shoulder, trying to convey he was here for him. The blonde didn't respond and his hand didn't stop rubbing Harry's back. Feeling confused and unsure of what he should do, the Gryffindor tried to extract himself.

Don't.

Harry's hands fell limply at his sides. Malfoy gave a frustrated sigh and removed his hand from under Harry's shirt, but didn't pull away.

You're such a prat, Potter.

Harry's mouth fell open in surprise.

I can't believe you left me like this for days.

Harry sputtered.

" What? You're the one who pushed me away." His voice sounded loud in the small room.

That was different. I was distraught. You could have come after me.

I'm sorry. I didn't realize shoving some one was really a way of saying ' follow me'.

Harry wondered why the blonde wasn't moving away. All his aches had disappeared once they had made contact. It was like an instant cure. He was certain they could go back to the distance of two normal people now.

" Doesn't matter now." Malfoy whispered.

It was as if those words traveled down an invisible tube straight to a pit low in Harry's stomach. Malfoy's breath cast over his ear, leaving a rash of goose bumps. Harry swallowed, fighting the urge to close his eyes.

" Potter."

Harry didn't answer. He felt like he needed more air, he felt light headed.

Malfoy turned his head and Harry could feel the soft lips as they moved over his ear.

" Tell me you don't feel that."

Harry wanted to.

" It's the spell." He reminded the blonde.

" So?"

Then Malfoy kissed him.

It wasn't an overwhelming, can't breath-properly kiss. The blonde merely skimmed Harry's lips with his own. Giving the barest hint of what could have been an incredible sensation. The lips moved to the corner of Harry's mouth and left a little peck.

It was a silent promise of more.

Harry remained still, not encouraging but not denying. Malfoy progressed his actions.

His open mouth covered the brunette's bottom lip. Hot breath and moisture mingled with Harry's. Once more it was nothing too invasive. Malfoy simple touched their lips together then leaned his forehead on Harry's. Their breath mixed as their mouths hung open, millimeters apart.

Harry moved to join them the third and final time. He was more aggressive then the blonde. Getting a good hold on the boy, he smashed his lips to Malfoy's, moving them urgently. A pale hand cupped his face, dragging a nail across his cheek as a hot tongue battled his. Harry groaned into Malfoy's mouth.

The blonde walked Harry backwards. His free hand once more found it's way under his shirt. Only this time it ran over his chest. Smooth strong strokes combined with the wet soft mouth, left Harry dizzy. He wanted one second to think, but the blonde wasn't having it.

In one quick motion the blue shirt covering Harry was pulled over his head. Hands ran through his tangled hair, as Malfoy's lips found his neck. Kissing his clavicle, bitting the skin and leaving little marks.

Heat, skin, thump. Thump. Harry's mind melted in a string of words and noises.

He bit his lip as Malfoy bit at his throat, then licked it better. One hand left his hair and grabbed a hip as Malfoy ground his groin into Harry. A short groan met a loud gasp.

Move. Please.

It was Malfoy's plea that made Harry realize his hands had dropped to his sides when he lost his shirt and there they had remained. Quickly rectifying this mistake, the brunette settled his hands around Malfoy's neck.

He briefly thought it was a girl move, but there was no room anywhere else. And the Slytherin didn't seem to mind. He thrust once more into the groove of Harry's hipbone almost as an encouragement. Besides, this arrangement gave Harry access to the blonde strands he didn't realize how badly he wanted to mess up, until right now.

He massaged the tender scalp, brushing and flipping hair out of his way. The blonde mumbled something into his neck, but it must not have been important because he didn't repeat it.

Harry gripped him around the shoulders, bringing their upper bodies togther as their lower parts pumped into each other. His bare chest rubbed against the fabric of Malfoy's shirt.

Take it off.

It was an order and Harry half expected the other boy to argue. But he only pulled away for a moment that felt like a life time and removed his shirt. Harry wanted to map the skin resting just in front of him. He wanted to trace it and lick it and mark it any way he could, but Malfoy was back on him in an instant.

He worked faster, spurred by the skin on skin contact. Harry met him, arching into each thrust. Their slicked chests bumped together as the moved in desperate unison. Harry's hands tightened in the blonde locks.

Malfoy's mouth moved over his neck as fast as his hips pushed against him. Both hands held Harry's waist, guiding him into each forward stroke. Fingers bruised the muscle, but Harry felt nothing but the electricity running through his groin and into his spine.

He came with a cry, in his mind or out loud Harry couldn't tell, and when his senses returned to normal Malfoy was panting in his ear. The beat of his heart drumming against Harry's chest. The brunette kept one hand around his companion's neck and moved the other across his lower back.

Malfoy pushed his face further into Harry's throat. Harry hugged him for what felt like hours.

Harry mimicked a tiger confined to a cage as he paced the tiny room. His head throbbed and he felt too warm, despite it being winter. It had been almost a full three days since he and Malfoy had been close enough to touch.

Malfoy agreed to meet him an half an hour ago and still hadn't shown up.

They had a regular routine going now. To conform to the newest development in their predicament they'd been finding time during the day to satisfy their itch for physical proximity.

They'd meet and sit next to each other in silence as they studied or did homework. Touching in some way, an arm, a leg or a shoulder. It calmed them down and let them live out their day in relative peace.

That was idea, anyway, but happened less and less as classes began to pick up, friends needed attention and they ran out of excuses.

Now, most of the time they'd have to rush. Catching each other between classes or before dinner. A quick hug or hand around the neck did the trick.

Malfoy had told him one day when they still had time, that his mother was almost back to her normal health. They sat side by side reading, their legs stretched before them touching from ankle to hip. He described her lack of love for the new diet she had to maintain and his father's attempts at staying on it to support her.

Harry was relieved and glad to hear it. Malfoy looked to be back to himself as well. He lost the drunkard look and de-zombified. Harry could tell he was still worried, but a great deal less. At the time he welcomed any sign the old Slytherin was back.

Now, not so much.

Harry looked to the door as a noise came from the hall. A second later Malfoy walked through the door.

" Malfoy."

"Sorry."

He wore his trademark smirk and Harry had the impression he wasn't sorry at all. But why was beyond him. Sure it pissed the Gryffindor off. He nearly failed his potions quiz because his head was buzzing with pain. But was it really worth this just teasing Harry? He knew if they waited it would only get stronger.

Malfoy stood before him and made no sign that he was going to make the first move. Harry, angry at his flippant behavior, practically threw him into the wall and kissed the smirk off his face. It wasn't his original intention to snog the other boy, but he was adapting.

Feeling Malfoy respond lifted a huge weight off his shoulders. Ever since their first physical encounter Harry had been doubting his actions.

Had he taken advantage?

Malfoy was so insane with grief and the added strain of the spell, he couldn't have been thinking properly. Not that Harry had been in much control, but at least he was aware of what was happening on some level.

He was positive the Slytherin was acting out of desperation. He let the bond, the synthetic connection between them, take over. Desperate to forget everything that he lived through the last week, to forget the sight of his strong defiant invincible mother still and pale on the hospital bed, to rid his mind of the fear and anger and pain. He substituted the firewhisky for Harry.

They hadn't talked about it, but Harry couldn't get it off his mind. He talked him self in circles trying to decide how Malfoy felt about what happened. Was he ashamed or embarrassed? Disgusted?

But having the blonde's tongue currently shoved into Harry's mouth and his hand gripping his hip reassured Harry better then any words could have.

" Please, sit down boys."

Harry and Malfoy each took a chair. No one had specifically told them they were here to remove the spell, but it was easy to assume that was the reason they were brought from class.

The headmaster smiled at them and Harry found he couldn't return it.

Every one knew this day was coming. But it was an abstract concept, like yes, someday we will get old, or there are people dying from lack of basic needs. But those things are so far away and we don't have to face them now. They have no room in our daily lives.

He managed a weak smile.

" As you can guess Professor McGonagall and myself have figured out a counter spell." He addressed the woman standing next to him. She nodded to the boys.

" I once more apologize for the delay, but the reason it took so long was because we needed a way to see how much of your brains were affected before we could remove the spell. We needed a map of where the spell spread to. The counter-spell itself is simple. But first we must see what we are dealing with."

" It was tricky because all the ones we did find required some form of scalping."

Harry nearly bolted. Instead, he squeezed the arm of the chair.

" But don't worry. We've come up with a way to avoid that. I have the greatest confidence it will work."

" Now, I have informed your guardians of the situation and gained their permission, since this is an invasive spell. Professor McGonagall and I are each going to work on one of you. The first spell should tell us where the magic is in your mind and the second, allow us to remove it."

" After that it's simple. It shouldn't be long and once it's done that will be the end. We'll walk you through this as we go along. Any questions?"

" Do you know what you're doing?" was on the tip of Harry's tongue. This sounded dangerous. What if they accidentally took out the wrong magic or a vital part of them? Were they really qualified to perform such intimate spells? Maybe they needed more time. It was too sudden.

Dumbledore said it before, the mind was a complex thing. What if he did something irreversible?

Relax, Potter. It's Dumbledore. I'm sure he knows what he's doing.

Harry took less comfort in those words then he wanted. But the realization that those words would be the last Malfoy didn't-speak to him, made a concrete distraction. A pang of loss hit him in the stomach.

" No? Good. One last question. Since this is a some what probing spell, I want to ensure we have your permission as well."

Both boys nodded their consent.

" Wonderful. Try and relax. Close your eyes and settle down into the chair. You may let your head rest on the back if you wish."

Harry did, hoping it would ease the tense in his body. He felt the other two people in the room move and when he spoke again Dumbledore's voice came from behind him.

" I'm going to start the spell."

Harry waited for the warm sensation or the slight pinch, but nothing happened.

" Good. It's working perfectly. You there, Minerva?"

Harry guessed she nodded because Dumbledore continued.

" It looks as if it hasn't progressed much further then the last time we spoke. Yes. You see, it's most on the left hemisphere. The parietal lobe. That explains the instant ability to communicate. It must be where the spell started."

Harry resisted the urge to wiggle. He wondered what the professor was seeing in is brain.

" Good. And here, it's in the motor skills as well, but it seemed to have skipped most of the stuff in between. Oh, some in the emotion section. A bit in the behavior part, but none in the balance. Oh, my. A great deal in the vision area."

" Have you been able to see through each others eyes?"

" Yes." Malfoy answered.

" And hear as well?"

" It looks to be in quiet a few areas. Have I missed anything?"

" No." Professor McGonagall answered.

" Perfect. Now we can remove it. Hold as still as you can boys. On three. One, two, three."

This time Harry felt something.

He gripped his seat harder to keep still. A constricting pressure in certain parts of his head pushed downwards.

Harry was sure it was his imagination, but he could feel the areas Dumbledore spoke about being squeezed. As though the spell were wringing out the drops of magic that didn't belong. The pressure increased steadily from uncomfortable to painful, then released altogether.

Dumbledore clapped his hands and Harry jumped.

" Congratulations, boys. You are back to yourselves again."

Harry opened is eyes. It was over. He almost didn't believe it. Dumbledore took his place behind his desk. McGonagall followed. She watched the boys carefully.

" Are you both alright? Nothing feels...gone?"

Harry swallowed but nodded. His faith in the older man had returned.

" We want to be sure, so we will run a few tests before you leave. Just to ensure everything is working properly."

Dumbledore and his female companion proceeded to ask them questions, show them pictures and make them perform spells. By the time the final task was done Harry was exhausted.

"Everything looks okay. You both did good. Now, I know it wasn't the ideal situation, but I hope you boys took this misfortune and used it to gain some perspective. Things aren't always as they appear to be, are they?"

If Harry didn't know better, he would have swore the professor sounded like he planned this. Not expecting an answer he bid them farewell and warned them for the fifth time to watch for any side effects.

" If anything, and I mean anything, feels out of the ordinary contact a teacher right anyway."

The light and dark haired boys stood in front of the Gargoyle that guarded the entrance to the headmasters office. Harry felt he should say something, but he didn't know where to start.

" Well, I guess I'll see you around."

Harry winced as the words left his mouth.

" Right."

Malfoy didn't elaborate. Harry felt like something was gone. Like a warm weight had left his body. Like he had walked out of the castle in the middle of winter with no coat on. He could feel the heat leaving his body, only in this case it wasn't heat.

He didn't feel any different towards Malfoy then he did two hours ago, except now he had no reason to talk to him. They would have to put an effort in to keep their connection alive and that would mean they wanted to keep it. Talking to some one because you had no one else around was one thing, seeking that person out and working on the conversation was another.

For that to happen one of them would have to make it obvious that was their intention. And what if it was one sided? What if they were rejected? What if they only got along because of the spell? They never talked about what would happen when they were fixed.

Maybe it should end here.

Harry started walking towards his tower. Malfoy headed to the dungeons. The walked side by side for ten feet then split. No more words were spoken between them.