Assignment 6 - Media Studies - Little Shop of Horrors - Write about being in love with a co-worker

Creativity Month - Assassin!AU - Neville/Tonks (Nymphadora)

Just a pre-warning for implied murder.

Side note: Neville's character is not canon. It's not supposed to be. His canon personality wouldn't fit in this plot.

"And the Metamorphmagus has struck again," the newscaster declared. "Deputy Sheriff Lucius Malfoy was found dead i his home this morning along with his wife. The police are certain that it was the Metamorphmagus, however, they have not released the details of the murder, for they are still investigating. Stay tuned for more..."

Neville sighed, turning off the television as his father entered the room.

"They haven't caught the Metamorphmagus yet," reported Neville gravely. "Malfoy's parents were murdered, but apparently they can't find any clues. The police are giving the excuse of 'still investigating.'"

"Well, I'd say good riddance, but not even Lucius Malfoy deserves to be slaughtered," Frank said wearily, sitting down next to his son. "Whoever this 'Metamorphmagus' is, they're causing a lot of mayhem around here. It makes me fear for our family. What if we're next?"

Neville nodded sympathetically, but his reply was cut off by an extensive yawn. Frank rested a hand on his shoulder.

"You should head to bed, son," he said. "You have work tomorrow."

Neville was simply too exhausted to respond, so he nodded tiredly and dragged himself upstairs. Frank turned the television back on the moment he was out of earshot.

"I hope whoever the Metamorphmagus is, they're captured soon," he muttered, rubbing his temple.

"Wotcher, Neville!"

The mallets banging against his skull increased their pace at the sound of the chipper voice, as if they knew he was allergic to peppy voices early in the morning.

"Morning, Tonks," he ground out, wanting nothing more than bang his head against the wall, but he couldn't do that. Someone of a higher position might see him and classify him as insane.

"How are you?" She set a pile of papers on his desk and he internally groaned at the prospect of doing more paperwork.

"Same as always," he replied, shrugging. "Paperwork, eat, more paperwork. It's an endless cycle."

Tonks threw back her head and released a glorious laugh, followed by another one, and another. Bells tinkled as she laughed, and Neville's stomach twisted itself into knots.

He loved her laugh. It was rich, melodious, and carried a modicum of mellowness, like she had been drinking. However, it wasn't raspy and grating; it appealed to the ears and made his heart sing.

He had done that. He had made her laugh.

"Nice one, boss," she tossed over her shoulder as she exited, a luminous smile on her face. Heat crept up the back of his neck and he buried his head in the massive heap of papers.

He was so whipped.

"Mr Longbottom, you're receiving a new secretary," his boss said, adjusting his tie and peering over the rim of his glasses. "She will arrive shortly."

Neville nodded tersely. He hoped that this secretary was more equipped to handle the responsibilities that came with this job.

—:—

His heart plummeted the moment he saw her. Vivid blue eyes that sparkled with a hint of mischief, pink hair that contrasted starkly with the bland color scheme of the room.

She was...interesting, he mused. She was a rebel wrapped in an ribbon of enigma, someone who he wanted to get to know better.

Someone he might even like.

It hit him with the force of a boulder. It was three in the morning, he was sleep-deprived, and a total, complete shell of himself.

But somehow, his mind was alert.

He blindly groped around for his cellphone and dialed the first number that came to mind, his friend's number, which he had memorized backwards and forwards. She was his self—determined love counselor, his coach for all things that concerned his feelings.

Hermione's sleepy voice answered. "Hello, who is this?"

"It's Neville."

"Neville?" Instantly, she seemed to wake up. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he answered, a trace of dreaminess in his voice, "except a big revelation. Hermione, I think I'm in love."

There was silence on the other end and Neville briefly entertained the idea of yelling into the phone, just to ensure that she was awake.

"...Oh." Her voice was soft, with an underlying layer of curiosity. "With who?"

"My secretary. Tonks. Oh Hermione, she's the most beautiful person I have ever met. She's funny, she's witty, she's full of light and laughter and—oh God, I think I want to marry this woman."

Another beat of silence. Neville waited, his heart pounding.

"Oh, Neville, that's wonderful!" Her exclamation came so unexpectedly and at such a high pitch that it caused Neville to jump.

"You have to tell her as soon as possible," Hermione continued excitedly, her voice enviously enthusiastic for someone who had just woken up. "I bet my wedding ring that she'll feel the same way."

"No, no, I can't!" Neville flailed about, panicked. "I can't tell her!"

"And why not? Give me one good reason."

"What if she rejects me?"

A heavy sigh sounded through the phone. "Neville," said Hermione exasperatedly, "what did I just tell you?"

"That I have to tell her as soon as possible."

"No, right after that."

Neville searched his memory. "She might feel the same way?"

"Ding—ding—ding, we have a winner," Hermione deadpanned. "I think she likes you too, you know. Have you seen the way she looks at you? Like you're her whole world. I had lunch with her last week and she's obviously enamored with you. I wouldn't be surprised if you asked her out and she said yes."

Neville's heart did a somersault. "You mean she really fancies me?"

Hermione sighed again and the line went dead, but Neville was too ecstatic to care.

In his haste to plan for their soon-to-be date, he forgot to sleep.

Neville was in an unusually good mood, and it surprised his father when he came downstairs not looking like a herd of elephants slept on his face.

"You seem in a good mood, Nev," said Frank, looking slightly shocked. "What's the occasion?"

"Oh, just telling a girl that I love her," he said dreamily.

Frank's eyebrows lifted, but he didn't comment.

The breaking news headline flashed across the screen and the anchors appeared, looking solemn. Neville looked up from the mountain of paperwork he was sifting through and watched the screen attentively.

"I'm afraid to start your morning off with this news, but it seems that Sheriff Nott's body has been found in a creek," the female anchor announced sorrowfully. "And it is again believed to be the work of Metamorphmagus, whose crimes will earn her a life sentence in jail, that is, if she is caught. The police are still scouring the area for evidence..."

At that moment, Tonks rushed in, a radiant smile on her face, her hair slightly dripping. "You asked for me, Mr Longbottom?"

"Call me Nev—is that a twig in your hair?"

"A twig?" She combed her fingers through her hair in search of it. "Where?"

"Here, let me help you." He plucked the twig out of her and emitted a harsh gasp as a startling yet silent discovery was made on his part.

"Maple wood," he whispered faintly, his mind racing. The bark was hard and rough, and there was only place where that bark could be found.

"It's you," he said, taking a step back as all the pieces were put together. "You're the Metamorphmagus."

"Me, the Metamorphmagus?" She laughed nervously. "Where would you get an accusation like that?"

"This twig." He jabbed a finger towards it. "This kind of wood is found in only one place in the entire city—the very same creek where Nott was murdered!"

"So, what does that prove?" she snapped. "I could've been taking a stroll in that forest. That doesn't support your ludicrous claim that I murdered him."

"You lie." He directed his finger to her wet hair. "The police closed off that area, so no one could get within a ten meter radius. And also, your hair is wet, but it isn't raining."

"So? I could've been washing my hair."

"But when would you have had time to go for a 'stroll'?" Neville asked smugly. "Washing hair takes a large amount of time."

"But—"

"And finally," Neville interrupted, his smile growing bitterly, "you're not denying any of my accusations. You keep saying 'I could've', which doesn't really deny anything. You're caught, Metamorphmagus."

Tonks scowled, wringing her hands.

Under Neville and the guard's watchful eyes, and at least a fifty-foot jump facing her if she did try to escape, Tonks didn't dare move. The police arrived shortly after, and after an explanation from Neville, arrested her.

But no one stuck around to see Neville, shattered and heartbroken, sink to his knees and cry as reality hit him. No one was around to comfort him; the day continued.

He was all alone.

1459 words