Disclaimer: I don't own anything - instead I borrow it, chop it all up and marinade it in a cheesy sauce. Bake for 35 minutes, at gas mark 6, then leave to cool. Serving suggestion: With a pinch of salt.

A/N: I have changed the very premise of this fic - it's my prerogative as the author. It is no longer written in a script-format. It's not even everyone-conveniently-lives-in-the-same-street/square/village-soap anymore. I like to think it is still a tribute, however, to melodrama, in a comical and maybe even tongue-in-cheek way. Well, that's what I'd like to think anyway; feel free to try and dissuade me of this notion, in the form of a REVIEW, if the whim takes you. Also I changed the title - the other one was well crap (let us never mention it again!).

The Utter Drama!

Chapter Two

Monday, 9:31am

Snape's Monday morning Potions class were still in shock.

"I can't believe I wasn't hung, drawn and quartered," Harry said in awe. "I mean - unpopable, blue bubbles. And I got away with it? With Snape? This is the stuff legends are made of."

"You don't need to brag about it," sniffed Hermione. She was sore that it had been her who had suffered Snape's wraith.

"Forgot about it, Hermione," Ron soothed. "Everyone knows Snape's a git."

"I know," she agreed dejectedly. "But I still don't appreciate being called an "Insufferable Know-It-All. Again."

"Why ever not, Granger? It's the truth!" it was Draco Malfoy.

"Who rattled your cage?" Ron balled his fists. He'd love to lay one on him.

"Easy now, Weasley," smirked Malfoy, noticing Ron's fists. He knew he was untouchable when he had the likes of Crabbe and Goyle to do his bidding. "Think of your blood pressure."

"It's nice of you to be so concerned," said Ron sarcastically, his teeth clenched.

"Go away, Malfoy," Hermione said simply.

"Why should I take orders from a Mudblood like you?"

"Because you don't wanna get cursed to the other side of next week, that's why," Harry shoved his wand in Malfoy's face.

It was at that moment, that McGonagall showed up dispelling the chance of any imminent violence.

"What exactly is going on here?" her lips were as thin as anerexic It-Girl. "Potter, put down your wand this instant!" she looked as if she were about to spontaneously combust with rage. "It's a good thing I came down here to check that weren't all running riot, whilst Professor Snape has been taken ill. Potter! Malfoy! Outside, now!"

With a heavy heart and even heavier legs, Harry dragged himself to his feet and toward the door. So much for avoiding trouble. He inwardly grinned. When did he ever avoid trouble?

9:35am

Dolores Umbridge was standing outside the official Minister of Magic residency. She was racked with nerves, but she had to do it. She could contain her feelings no longer. She knocked on the door.

Thirty seconds later, it was answered by Betty Fudge, the Minister's wife.

"Dolores, t'what d'we owe the pleasure?" Betty asked, feigning politeness. She didn't like Dolores Umbridge - she had her suspicions about her.

Umbridge didn't like Betty either. She was, after all, the ungrateful cow who was married to Cornelius Fudge.

"I would like to speak to Conelius. In private," she added, not wanting Betty to ruin this for her.

"Do come through," Betty smiled brightly to hide that fact that she didn't want that Umbridge women in her house. She led her through to the lounge, as opposed to the drawing room where she'd usually install her guests - she didn't want her sitting on the good settee - and went to find her husband.

Umbridge looked around the lounge and noticed a photograph of Fugde and his wife on the mantel piece. She checked that neither Betty or Cornelius were about to walk in, got up and hurried over to the fire place. In one swift movement she scooped up the framed-photo and shoved it in her handbag. She quickly returned to her seat and tried to act natural, awaiting the arrival of the man she adorned.

Fudge entered the room and sat down opposite Umbridge.

"This is a pleasant surprise, Dolores," he said, with an expression that read the very opposite. He was far too busy trying to do damage control, to save his career, to be having a chinwag with a fellow disgracee. "How are you these days? No more centaur dreams, I hope?" he didn't really care for the answer.

Umbridge took a deep breathe. This was it - Cornelius would soon realise his feelings for her. "Wouldn't you like to?" she simpered in what she hoped was an alluring manner; she winked for good measure.

Fudge raised his eyebrows in confusion. "Um...well...so...lovely weather we're having, eh?" trying to change the subject, as he couldn't for the life of him think of a reply to that - that strange remark.

Umbridge took this as an opportunity for flattery. "Nothing compared to you, Corny, darling!" adding a sickening pet name.

Fudge sat mortified. An awkward silence reigned.

"Are you sure you're feeling quite all right, Dolores?"

Umbridge thought "saucy". "I don't know. Why don't you tell me?".

She purred.

Fudge stood up sharply.

"I've just remembered I have to - I've got to - a meeting with the Turkish Minister of Magic. Very important," he opened the lounge door. "I'm afraid you're going to have to leave."

"But darling -"

"Betty!" he called down the hall. "Would you mind showing Dolores to the door."

Betty appeared immediately. Her bright smile was no longer forced.

"Course not. Righ' this way, Dolores."

"I'll call again, tomorrow then, shall I?" asked a disappointed Umbridge.

"Not necessary!" Fudge yelled. "I mean - I can deal with what we talked about by myself."

"What do you mean?" she called from the doorway.

"Ta ra!" Betty slammed the door closed. She turned to her husband. "What were all tha' abou', chuck?"

"Betty, dear. I think Dolores Umbridge just tried to seduce me."

Betty assumed the expression of a bulldog chewing a wasp.

11:01am

Snape had finally managed to fall asleep with the aid of a sleeping potion. He wouldn't normally have fancied a nap at eleven in the morning, but today was an exception.

He'd tried everything to get his mind off Tonks, and the fact that he was attracted to...possibly in love with...her. No book had managed to hold his attention; no operatic number had managed to came his anxiety; and he couldn't even manage to complete the easy Su Doku, in that morning's Daily Prophet.

This was bad.

So he drank one of his here's-one-I-made-earlier sleeping potions, that he kept in his store for any bouts of insomnia, and drifted off into a deep sleep...

...he was in a field full of flowers, and he could hear sweet bird song. He looked down at his apparel; for some reason he was wearing a half-open, floaty, white shirt, and leather trousers - he decided to ignore this fact.

As he looked back up, he saw a vision of loveliness standing in the field, fifty feet away from him. Tonks. She was wearing a long, floaty, lavender dress, and her blonde, wavy hair was almost down to the floor.

She saw him. Snape could just make out a beatific smile spreading across her face at the sight of him. A warm, fuzzy feeling erupted in Snape's heart, as she began to run towards him in slow motion, her hair splayed out behind her, like a cape.

He began to run in slow motion towards her too. Romantic music struck up, and he tried to run faster.

As the music reached a particularly high note, Snape and Tonks reached each other and embraced. Real-time returned.

"Oh, Serverus!" she cried, adoringly.

"Oh, Nymphadora!" he cried back in return.

He bent down towards her sweet, cherry lips, and kissed her with his own pair.

The romantic music played louder, and everything went blurry.

12:15pm

In the Three Broomsticks, Madame Rosmerta and Fleur were behind the bar, serving a gaggle of thirsty customers. Some of these thirsty customers happened to be Rubeus Hagrid, Albus Dumbledore, Remus Lupin, Minerva McGonagall and Filius Flitwick; who were all sat round a table in the back corner, having a nice, sociable drink.

Flitwick leaned in and asked excitedly, in his squeaky voice, "So, any gossip?"

McGonagall laughed. "Oh, Filius! You really shouldn't be such a gossip," she winked. "People tell you more if you aren't, anyway."

"Some intriguing advice, Minerva," Dumbledore smiled, and took a sip of his gillywater.

"Indeed," Remus nodded.

Hagrid let out a great belch, and then bellowed, both loudly and drunkenly, "Anyways, Flitty, yer ol'dog, only gossip, 'round 'ere's abou' yer!"

"What precisely is that supposed to mean, Hagrid?" Flitwik inquired in a voice than usual.

"Rumour is yer've gotta pineapple fetish!" he chuckled.

"How dare you!" Flitwik was now a shocking scarlet.

"Gentlemen, please," Dumbledore tried to regain pleasantries. "I really don't think this is the time, nor the place, for such behaviour."

"Sssh, Albus! "McGonagall slurred. "It's starting to get interesting."

"Indeed," Remus concurred.

It was then that Hagrid roared, "I've sin the pineapples!" and the whole pub turned to stare in undisguised intrigue.

"This is slander, I tell you, slander!" shrieked the Charms Professor, as he picked up his drink and sloshed the contents all down Hagrid's mole skin jacket.

12:23pm

A couple of minutes later, the room was in complete disarray. Hagrid was sat in the middle...on top of Flitwick.

"That's what yer get when yer mess wi' Hagrid!" he hollered.

All that could be heard from the tiny man was a muffled squeaking sound.

"Hagrid!" the Hogwarts headmaster cried. "Get up at once!"

Hagrid suddenly came to his senses and realised where he was and what he was doing.

"Gulpin' Gargoyles!" he yelled, sobering up immediately. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry!" he got up, and peeled a squashed Flitwick off the floor. "Flitty, mate, I didn't mean it! Can yer ever forgive me?"

But the only reply was a solitary squeak.

An angry Rosmerta waded out into the carnage, "What I want to know is, who's going to clean my pub up?"

Remus nodded. "Indeed, my thoughts exactly."

3:15pm

Snape had woken up in turmoil. His dream about Tonks had convinced him he was in love with her, and he wanted her to love him back.

However, Snape wasn't the type of man who had woman falling in love with him every which way. How did he get her to return his feelings? One word came to mind - seduction. A feeling of terror swept through him with the very prospect.

He had to give it a shot though.

But no! Think of the very probable rejection!

However thoughts and memories that he'd tried to bury - to rid himself of long ago - were all coming flooding back...he had only loved once before. She had been the very personification of perfection; because of this, he'd known that his love was bound to go unrequited - why would she ever love someone like him?

And so, he hadn't done anything about it. Instead he'd watched as she fell in love with someone else, his heart breaking all the while. To stop the pain he vowed to eradicate from his being the reason he even felt it - the pain. He vowed to cease with emotions. If they only caused you to feel pain, what was the point of them?

And so, he did, and he became a hollow shell of a man as a result. He liked it like that though - he was pretty good at it too, for the most part.

There was regret, mind you.

Waves and waves of it.

Did he really want any more of it?

So that is how, he came to be sat on his desk, in his office, trying to act casual, whilst waiting. Waiting for Tonks.

He'd sent her a note by owl, asking her to meet him here; his hand had shook as he'd written it.

There was a gentle knock on his office door, and Snape let out a raspy, "Come in," he had the overwhelming urge to faint.

Tonks entered the room, "Er...you wanted to see me, Snape?"

It was now or never. "Seduction"-time.

"Call me Serverus," he attempted to smile in an appealing manner, but it came out as more of a grimace.

"Okay -Serverus - you wanted to see me?"

"I did."

Silence.

"Er...what about?

Snape coughed nervously, and wiped his sweaty palm on his robes. "Us," he replied simply.

"Us?" she frowned in confusion. "Sn-Serverus, I wasn't aware there was an 'us'."

"There could be," it came out as barely a whisper. "There could be - if you wanted."

His eyes locked on hers for the briefest of moments, before she quickly turned away.

"Snape-"

"Call me Serverus," he said pathetically. "Please."

This had not been what Tonks had expected when she'd received Snape's owl earlier. Hell - she hadn't known what to expect; but this definitely wouldn't have featured in her top ten, if she'd cared to ponder it. She'd have more readily believed that Snape had decided to open a kitten-and-other-fluffy-critters sanctuary, if truth be told.

"Snape," she deliberately ignored him, not wanting to instill hope where there was none. "I really don't think a relationship between the pair of us would work very well - you can't honestly say you don't agree with me, can you?"

Snape's heart felt as though it had been trampled on.

He stood and went over to the fireplace, trying with all his might not to cry. He didn't, after all, believe in silly things such as crying.

"I'm sorry," he apologised, whilst trying to swallow the enormous lump that had formed in his throat. "Please excuse this whole sorry incident. I am ill at the moment, you see, and have been taking potions that have obviously impaired the usual functioning of my brain."

"Of course," Tonks employed all the tact she could muster. "These things happen," she attempted an amused laugh, that sounded more like she was trying to dislodge phlegm. "We'll say no more about it then."

"That would be appreciated."

"I'll be off them. Bye!" and she hurried towards the door.

"Goodbye," he said smoothly, but he heard her close the door behind her, before he'd finished.

He continued to stare into the empty fire grate for sometime after, before he sank to his knees, the full weight of what he's just done becoming too much for him. He ran his hands through his oily hair and let out a tortured yell of, "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

Next time on Wizard Avenue: Snape does something naughty! Hagrid and Flitwick tidy-up the Pub! Percy Weasley does something pompous! And Ron finally admits his true feelings!