Damning Corduroy

A/N: Anyone confused yet? (I will reply to all reviews.)

And here is the answer you've all been waiting for…

21st Fox Presents… Drum Roll please…

Tonks awoke to the smell of… breakfast and something delightfully musty. Remus?

No.

When she buried her head into the softness beneath her cheek, she was greeted with a deep chuckle. Opening her eyes, she was glad to see Malcolm looking down at her. She grinned sheepishly and leaned up. He had been sitting at the farthest end of the sofa while she lay sprawled out and in his lap.

She looked up, and Malcolm laughed again. "What?" She looked up sternly at him.

"You should see your hair." He playfully ran his hand through it. "Bed-head." She stuck her tongue out at him as she got up. Xavier stood watching them as he leaned against the counter. There was a popping pan of bacon and another that was filled with… chocolate-chip… pancakes. Yum! she thought as she walked into the bathroom.

The laughter that echoed down the hall made Malcolm stand up. "What?"

"You're right," Tonks said as she struggled to brush her hair. "I look horrible."

Malcolm studied her hands as they worked before saying, "Well, I think you look cute." Tonks looked up at him in the mirror. The small smile on his face couldn't have been truer. But—

"Whatever." She rolled her eyes.

"No really." He leaned forward, his breath on her neck. She paused slightly. His tongue was on her neck, "You look ravishing." Tonks could feel the smile on her skin. He stepped back and pushed himself against the frame of the door.

"And you look like you're lying," she muttered through a small bout of breathy laughter. He pulled a fake offended face with one hand placed on his chest as he walked out of the bathroom. There in the pallid blue light of the bathroom, she stopped brushing her hopeless mop of hair and paused. With her eyes dow n-turned she smiled with a small huff. Malcolm…

—xxxiii—

"What is it?" Xavier turned to Malcolm as he leaned against the counter casually. "Wh—" Pop! "Ow, shit! Malcolm! What?"

"Nothing."

Malcolm had leaned against the vampire, his arm resting on Xavier's shoulder casually. Xavier was still rubbing hard at the burn from the grease. "I know that look… What do you want?" Xavier muttered as he turned to the pancakes. Three filled plates later he looked up at Malcolm. "What?"

"Nothing. I just had an idea that's all…" Malcolm said as he walked away, brow raised with a sneaky smirk covering his face. He tapped his temple twice before proceeding down the hallway. Xavier stood confused in the kitchen. With the werewolf's footsteps came the sound of a closing door. Heaving a sigh, Xavier turned to the stove, switched it off and carried himself over to the table. It was there with a full plate the he mulled over two doused pancakes and several pieces of bacon. Come to think of it now… he wasn't hungry. Closing his eyes, his ran his thumb and forefinger over his brow and inaudibly sighed.

After seventy-five percent of the food on his plate disappeared, he rose in the faded light of the kitchen. With his eyes averted, his turned quickly to the hallway. Looking up, Tonks' silent figure stood sudden, wary and still in his gaze. "Where'd Malcolm go?"

"Crazy?" Xavier asked quietly. He was granted a small smile in return while he walked past her and seated himself on the farthest couch. Tonks still watched him from the hallway. "What?" Her face was down-turned, and when she looked up, he saw the tears that stained her face. "Tonks?" He immediately stood up. Taking her in his arms once he reached her, Xavier looked down to study her face. Tonks' eyes were still lowered to the floor. "What is it?" he insisted.

She defiantly shook her head. "Tonks—"

"I don't want to talk about it… I just want to go to sleep." Xavier paused as she stopped whispering.

"What happened the other day, between you and Remus… please, tell me," he said softly.

She shook her head hopelessly, "I don't want to talk about it, Xavier."

"What's wrong?"

Malcolm was motionless in the hallway, his hand still pausing on the doorknob of open bedroom door. He stood twisted to look at the two. Hurrying down the hall, he asked once more, "What's wrong?" Tonks shook her head at his presence. Malcolm glanced adamantly at Xavier. Lowering his chin, the vampire calmly grasped her elbows and led her to the closest settee. It was there he knelt in front of her. Malcolm's voice came from behind him. "I can't help you unless you help me. Now tell Xavier what happened, love."

She swallowed hard and cast a pleading—imploring—helpless look to the vampire. Xavier glanced once to the carpet, pulled her from the couch and let her practically strangle him. She held tightly to his neck, her arms wrapped solely for comfort. He brought her down to the carpet. It was there she closed her eyes fearfully. "This won't hurt," Xavier whispered calmly to her. Tonks inaudibly nodded. She shivered as he let his lips rest on the edge of her neck. Xavier passed his tongue over the rhythm of her heartbeat and dove in.

The last thing she remembered wholly was the prickle of his teeth sinking into her throat.

—xxxiv—

Xavier was sickened at the lunge springing up in his stomach like an alarm once the sweetness of Tonks blood poisoned his lips. He was brought to a lurching state of nausea as the memories flooded in a tidal wave toward him. He was thwarted by the sounds of a small giggling girl, screams of frightened people all around and everywhere—for he turned his head everywhere to keep sight of them, panicked and running, scattering and shouting—sights of masked Death Eaters, all of which cast sparking green jets of the breath of death inches from his face—and then suddenly the burn of tears on his face as the one and only Remus Lupin stood before him. The stinging of the tears was pulled away like that of a sticking papier-mâché mask glued to his face.

He saw suddenly the flood of forest being pulled from a magician's hat in the back of his mind, the blackness from which he had stepped forth from. It made his stomach turn, stir. He wanted so badly to punch the man who now stood before the weeping, doubled over figure of Tonks, but it was useless. It was in the past. It was behind her, and he hadn't been there. He had been caught up in the innocence of a trickling fountain and all the while he had let his thoughts cloud his could-have-been-actions of preventing Tonks' world from falling around her in a mass of destruction.

Remus tried to take her hand, but she jerked hard… too hard for that matter. She landed in a heap on the ground, sobbing without holding back her emotions. He looked at her pitiful appearance. His face was crumbling slowly. Her tears were washing away his resolve, but in the last second…

Remus averted his eyes from her body, motionless. The gleam in them had disappeared as well as the moment. "Why are you doing this? You know there is no way we can be together, Dora."

With ragged, jagged breathing, she tried answering him. The hysterical shards of glass pricked her throat… she couldn't breathe, but she tried at it all the same. "I—I—I l-love—I love y-you," she gasped.

"And I know that, but that doesn't matter. I'm trying to keep you from harming yourself with your feelings. And that's exactly what you're doing right now. I can't help you unless you help yourself—"

"Don't—Don't g-give me that b-bullshit! Y-your answer is better than this f-fucking—awkward—silence! Just tell me h-how you—feel, d—damn it." Tonks struggled with her bearings and words. She didn't even pause to choose them, and they fell at his feet, pitiful and bare just like her stripped, naked voice.

"Tell me," she implored softly this time. "Now."

"I—" Remus tried hard not to let himself fail at her, her intentions and what she was doing to him now.

Her hands were slinking closer and closer beneath the worn, faded, corduroy jacket he wore.

They were making their way closer and closer, to the edge of his faded black shirt where they paused for his answer. That's where she was… on the very edge. Both pairs of their hands, however, were useless and unbothered at their sides. Tonks made no move to get closer to him, to stand up from her undignified position, and Remus made no move to help her. She just wanted an answer… Give her one, dammit, you old cowardly, fool! he thought. And so he did… stumbling over his words, he came…

"I—I feel as if I can't love you—any more than a friend," he added quickly to reverse the open-mouthed silence she was tossing hard at him. He felt the pressure at his head again, the stress was pulling the strings inside him. Something was wailing loudly within his conscious, tell him everything was wrong, a growl was piercing his throat. The burn of acid on his tongue was forced back down by those last words…

"But there are others, Tonks. You've got to understand that. Malcolm for instance…" Tonks looked wounded, hurt, up at him. He glanced around, searching for any answers hidden stealthily among the brush and dancing among the leaves clinging defiantly to the hushed trees' branches. He found no reprieve and still, he continued.

"He's whole…" Remus' breath was lost on the stirring of the wind's own breath. The words were lost… "He's perfect for you…"

"And he's a werewolf. What does that make you?" Tonks said loudly. Bitterly, she spat on his shoes, "Say? What does that make you, eh? Useless? Old? A coward?"

"Yes, Tonks. That's what I am. And that's why you don't need me." Just whispers among the barest of whispering breezes…

Her face broke completely, the porcelain of her cheeks was shattered in a broken sob itself, her glistening eyes tore themselves from his pocketed hands and dejected, pulled, twisted face… it was completely emotionless.

Her eyes, they searched once more—helplessly—for his own. They were turned away from her. He wouldn't allow just one last… one last smile. No. She tore herself completely away from him. Tore herself from the ground and ran, and that seemed like it was all she could do. That seemed like it was the only thing in the world, running. Running away from Remus, lying to herself that it would be okay, lying to herself that she wouldn't get Xavier to kill him later…

She had to lie and run away, and hide underneath the warms covers that pelted the cold truth away from her body at home. She would just have to lie… and hide. She didn't want the truth, she didn't want this. She wanted Remus. And it seemed like that was the only thing in the world… Remus. And she couldn't have him. Couldn't have what she wanted because the world was cruel… and everything had to be difficult.

The coat of trees that had engulfed her body ripped themselves away from her and there he was… the safety, the black serenity of lies… Xavier. She took a quick hold of his jacket and he immediately twisted around to sneer at her… and soon his own face broke. "Tonks, Tonks, Tonks, what happened?!"

Xavier watched from afar, he could see them—himself and Tonks—sheltered amongst the last of the remaining branches against the edges of the clearing. The scene was glued upon the trees in front of him, but he also stood there with a silently crying Remus in the clearing. Remus stumbled blindly over to the only shelter he knew.

The rock in the center of the clearing was no longer vacant as the two of them sat. Xavier held the last remnants of a pensive face as long as he possibly could, but it was useless. He both wanted to turn and console the panicking man and punch him all the same. Did that even make sense? Turning, he realized he could not see the younger man's face, for it was hurried away by his worn, scarred hands.

"Remus…" Xavier breathed quietly.

"Oh, damn it all, what have I done?"

It was the only response he was given, and that didn't even make sense. So he played along…

"You've destroyed yourself, you fool," he said quietly as no venom seeped into the words. He stood all in one move with them as they swept upward and toward the overcast clouds hanging low in the sky. Slowly, hesitantly, he placed his cold hand on Remus' leaning shoulder. He struggled for words, even when Remus would not hear them. The only thing he could do was turn, fade out of the memory and breathe quietly.

"Goodbye, Remus."

—xxxv—

Suddenly, Tonks' fingernails dug deeper and deeper into flesh until the blood welled. Xavier gasped at the smells.

The pungent scent wafted around him. Fear.

It was fear… and…

"Xavier!"

He felt himself land back first on the linoleum of the kitchen. "What the hell was that for?"

"Look, you idiot!" Malcolm was stared wide-eyed at Tonks' unmoving, breathless figure… was she—

"You fucking moron! Did you kill her, goddamn you?!"

"No," Xavier gasped quietly. Once he recaptured his breath, he clutched his throat. The blood was still making its way sluggishly through his veins. He could feel it. He looked down at his wrists. The veins that held the darkened, suffocated blood were filling bright red against his pale skin. "Malcolm, she's not—"

"Don't you fucking ever do that again, you hear me?!" Malcolm had taken hold of Xavier's collar, tugged him up from the floor of the kitchen and shoved him against the far table to their right. He could feel the darkness of the cherry wood digging into the backs of his thighs. Malcolm's eyes were baked bright brown and glowing in the softened blue cream of the dim kitchen window. His eyes searched the brightened sea, and Malcolm did the same, searching the vampire's own darkened depths of his eyes. They swam quietly. The room blurred before him, and Malcolm's claws etched the very skin of his chest. He smelled the blood slightly.

Malcolm was suddenly five feet from him, almost across the room. "Xavier, I'm—" The werewolf extended his arms to the vampire.

"Forget it, it's okay," he muttered, pushing past the taller figure. Moment's later: "You want to do the honors?" Malcolm rolled his eyes, plucked Tonks from her place on the plush green carpet of the sitting room floor and nestled her in his arms.

"You should be doing this considering you almost drank her dry…" he whispered, walking down the hall. Xavier followed quietly without word. Yes, he should be the one to carry her down the hallway, but he could smell the anger in Malcolm boiling down… and that was exactly what he wanted, could he be blamed? Once Tonks was leaning desperately against the pillows, Malcolm looked up. The glassy, white face of the vampire was down-turned and faced away from the werewolf. "Do you feel any better?" Malcolm stepped the slightest bit closer until, fnally, he was seated at the foot of the bed.

"A little… the ache in my back is gone. My neck has stopped hurting."

"The blood I gave you should have sufficed for a month," Malcolm pointed out softly.

"You think I don't know that?" he asked emotionlessly. "I don't know what it is, maybe the memories. You had a shitty childhood, Malcolm."

The werewolf chuckled quietly, "Tell me something I don't know." Playfully he punched the vampire in the shoulder. Xavier now started to laugh. He rubbed his left upper arm and his eyes glinted in the barest of twilight. He rolled his eyes casually. "You need more…"

"No, Malcolm. I don't need anymore blood. I'll be okay for a couple of weeks… maybe even four."

"You could go eat those bastard squirrels for me." Malcolm traced the slowly healing cut above his brow with his fingernail. "Xavier—"

"No, Malcolm, no." Suddenly deep, jagged black claws were digging into his neck. Fear nipped at the edges of the vampire's eyes. He pursed his lips at the werewolf's intentions and suddenly he felt his lip bleeding. He had bitten his own lip in an effort not to bite the werewolf. It didn't hurt. It would never hurt. But he just didn't want bite anyone… he didn't need to. He didn't need anymore blood, and he certainly didn't want to bite Malcolm.

Roughly, he pushed the werewolf away from him, and he landed squarely against the right edge of the end of the bed. Malcolm's eyes glowed once more with anger or resentment, he couldn't tell.

"It doesn't hurt. It never will."

"No!" He raced hysterically from the room and slid like that of a baseball player into the other across the hall. The shriek never escaped his lips for Malcolm had stomped his way into the room behind the stricken vampire to quickly.

"Do you want to see the memory or not?" Malcolm asked quietly. Xavier's interest was heightened by the slightest of shard, quick movements he exerted, and he guessed the werewolf could sense it for he bent down in front of the cowering vampire. "Xavier, it won't hurt. You need more blood… admit it. And I want to show you something."

"No." He said it firmly. "I don't," he insisted. "And I know it doesn't hurt, and why can't you just tell me?" he rambled. Through the darkness he could have sworn that the werewolf bowed his head and scuffed the floor slightly with his boots. "What did you do?" He paused as he got up… and fell against the werewolf. It was true, he did need more blood. It was unexplainable why, but he did. His ribs were aching and his legs hurt from moving so much, running, just… moving all together.

Malcolm raised a questioning brow slightly at the vampire shrouded awkwardly against his chest. "What?" Xavier asked quietly, his fingers moving quickly to find the puncture wounds from before gone. He leaned slightly up and the muscles were taut under his tongue. He could feel the pain of his teeth growing in the lure of skin. And the blood… it was so… different from that of Tonks'.

Tonks' blood remained sweetened, sickly and warm, but Malcolm's was burning, heated, steaming and it made his skin crawl at how much warmer it all was. It remained bitter, like that of an animal's, but it was so much warmer. And that made him jump at the opportunity. Malcolm's claws dug slightly into his shoulders as he opened his flesh even more. The more Malcolm's blood welled, the more Xavier grew insistent. He could taste the metal tint in the werewolf's blood and the memory was so close to him, it was tickling his teeth painfully. He bit harder, harder, and deeper until Malcolm snarled in his ear. He was pulled down and the memory was writhing, alive, and there in front of him…

—xxxvi—

He stood at the foot of the bed. The same, glimmering golden eyes stared up at the figure of the vampire as if he were actually standing there in the darkness. And then the breathing… it was… heavy?

"Mmm—" The sound of muffled…

Xavier moved closer to the bed, to his right he stepped as quietly as possible—even when Malcolm couldn't even hear him—to the right side of the bed. It was there he knelt and soon he was the werewolf in the bed himself. Someone's weight was distributed above him, it was light, soft, but still… he felt as if he had three thick blankets piled atop him. And the soft feeling of gentle lips against his own, easy at first and then faster and harder.

He pulled himself spastically away from the two. "We shouldn't—be doing this."

"It's just a few—kisses…" They both muttered through the kisses, trying equally not to silence each other completely.

"What about—" Malcolm… that was Malcolm and he paused. "Xavier… What about Xavier?" he asked quietly again.

"Malcolm…" Tonks! It was Tonks… but when… when did they do this?! The day he was gone? He was gone that day… he told Malcolm to take her somewhere! Not his room! She'd seen his room already! What more was there to see?!

Xavier quickly tried his best to pull away from the both of them just as Malcolm murmured quietly, "What?" and he succeeded only when Tonks had uttered the final words…

"Shut up…" His deepened chuckle filled the room, and soon they were both drowning in raw, passionate kisses… soon the blood tickled his lips once more… enticing and drawing him back to the surface. Soon, Malcolm's bright eyes came to his own, and he felt the sharp nails of the werewolf dig into his scalp as he licked the remaining drops of blood from his lower lip.

—xxxvii—

"I didn't mean to!"

"You know she was Remus'! You were crazy for even conceiving the idea! Why did you do that?! And I had to witness it! In my bed! Now I know why I couldn't sleep! It's all your fault!"

"Was! She said it didn't matter… just a few… kisses. And what the hell are you talking about?!"

Quietly, Malcolm looked up, his eyes wide and imploring like that of a puppy. "Don't you dare…" Xavier commanded.

"What?" he asked casually.

"No… don't… not the puppy eyes… Malcolm."

"What am I doing?" His forehead creased and he lowered his chin almost to his chest. "What am I doing, Xavier?"

"No! You're a bad dog! Bad dog!" Xavier crossed his arms and turned quickly from his pathetic face. "You knew not to kiss Tonks!"

Malcolm immediately rolled his eyes… "Here we go." He drew the words out and Xavier silenced him.

"Yes, and we're going to talk about this again and again until you get it through your thick skull, verstehst du mich?!" Xavier could have started cursing in German, but it made Malcolm look up quicker at him once he uttered that phrase.

"Gottverdammt, of course I understand you. It was just a few kisses—"

"A few?"

"You asshole, I don't care how many it was, she didn't care, I didn't bite her, she's still Remus' so it doesn't matter. Verstehst?!"

Xavier threw a smirk in his direction… "Of course I understand."

Malcolm could only roll his eyes silently and walk into the kitchen, pause with his hands nailed to his hips, then quickly turn and parade down the hallway. "Malcolm, you are so damn immature!"

"I am not!" he drunkenly called from Tonks' room. He raced down the hallway again, his blonde hair a complete mess. "You like Tonks!" he declared quickly. Xavier's shoulders fell into defeat. What in the world was this idiot talking about? That was the only question that erupted to his mind. "You like Tonks! You like Tonks!" Malcolm taunted. Xavier did nothing but stand quietly and observe Malcolm dancing in the kitchen like a drunk clown…

"You are such an idiot," Xavier said quietly. He muttered, staring at the carpeted floor of the sitting room. The green blurred before his eyes.

"You like Tonks! You like Tonks!" Malcolm chanted as if saying those three words would make it true… it would make Xavier like Tonks. But, no. Xavier didn't, couldn't… most certainly would not allow himself to like Tonks. Yes, Tonks was perfect, annoying, fun to be with, but Malcolm deserved her. He had already lost Lia.

Tonks had lost Remus. And Xavier was just a loner vampire. He would be on the run all his life… he wasn't sure from what but he just was. Maybe it was life itself he was running from… love? No… the truth… maybe. He hated the truth of his own life. He would never tell anyone about what had happened to him… and so that was what he was running from, he guessed…

The truth… the truth that he would never be able to be happy, but he shook his head quickly. No. He would not, most of all, pity himself. He didn't deserve it.

"You like Tonks! You like Tonks! You like Tonks! You like Tonks!"

"I do not, Malcolm! Shut. The fuck. Up!" Xavier spat. His chin was lowered; his eyes glittered beneath his hair, dark and tensed. He looked threatening, but Malcolm could only throw the slightest of sneers at the vampire.

"What are you going to do, Xavier? Bite me again? I was just kidding! It doesn't hurt to play around, eh?" Malcolm tried his hardest not to walk quickly across the kitchen, over to Xavier and punch him playfully in the shoulder so he would know and understand that he was just kidding! He raised his hands. He could hear the hiss on Xavier's breath. "Xavier…"

The snarl that escaped the vampire's lips made Malcolm stand bare in the kitchen—he relaxed his muscles completely. "Xavier… calm down, you idiot. I was only kidding." He slowly backed towards the sink, his hands stretched slowly—as surreptitiously as they could—behind him to find something that would arm him against Xavier, something… anything really. Malcolm knew not to offend him but he couldn't help the itching instinct telling him to do so. He would calm down… or so he thought.

It was a blur for Malcolm, the next few moments. Xavier had disappeared from where he was standing, and Malcolm was suddenly on the floor. Strangled, he tried his very best to snatch even the slightest glances of Xavier's face, but the only thing he snatched was his own breath in the silence of the kitchen. Xavier released another almost inaudible hiss once more, and Malcolm thought about how threatening that sounded! "You really think you scare me?"

Xavier's narrowed eyes, darkened, completely black, entered his vision. And Malcolm could only stare, open-mouthed at the sight… His pallid face and stringy hair, the tightened, taut fangs hiding just beneath his slit mouth. It was barely open and ready to pounce… Malcolm pushed roughly at the vampire and the only thing he succeeded in doing was forcing Xavier back to the very edges of the kitchen. Xavier's hands were closing in upon his throat once more. Damn, why the hell is he allowed to move so fucking fast?! Malcolm couldn't help but try to snarl, growl, do anything to escape the vampire's anger but… it left him empty-handed.

The immediate lurch in his stomach as he punched Xavier squarely in the jaw made him look at the blurring clock that was weirdly above him now.

The blood that seeped into the werewolf's vision was offending—intruding moreover as his head screamed with pain—and their tentacles reached vilely out to him. The darkened room was the screeching signal of defeat and Malcolm fell silently into reprieve.

—xxxviii—

Xavier's hands shook, his legs trembled at the adrenaline, the anger… All the damned emotions. He couldn't take it. Suddenly he had been lunging at the werewolf before him—Malcolm's eyes widening at the sight of the feelings in his completely blackened, gleaming eyes. And then, the pain hit him… his jaw was searing with it. There was practically an imprint of four knuckles against the pallid outline of his face. And he felt the anger coursing through him once more. Waves and waves. And suddenly…

Malcolm was below him… he heard the crack of his skull against the very edge of the counter. And his blood… The damned, fucking blood. No… no, no… It was on his shoes, it was in his nose, dripping in his mouth just like the saliva that he was trying to hold back. With one last shuddering and panicked sigh he turned abruptly from the scene and left Malcolm alone and probably dying—as it was—on the kitchen floor.

7:36

That was the only thing that filled his eyes.

It scarred his pupils, burned his very flesh. And soon the numbing feeling spread through him, the euphoria. It filled his head, his limbs, and lastly his fingers. He couldn't feel the linoleum beneath him, or the blood. He couldn't even smell it. He didn't want to. The pumping, agonizing, pounding, fucking headache he was getting…

Damn it, he would strangle that idiot when he next saw him. But he couldn't focus on that. Darkness took him completely and he didn't fight. This was what he wanted as he motionlessly, silently slipped into never-ending unconsciousness. And seven thirty-six so happened to be the last he could remember of his life…

TBC

Moony73