DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Sudz

Decidedly decadent, that was the phrase and into the balmy evening of a set laden with enough bronzing oil to make the Exxon Valdese look like a minor trifle, the cast hove into view; a primped, preened and starched line of actors the likes of which were so over the top as to scare old ladies and make young men retch into their handmade Irish linen handkerchiefs.

In a word, Severus thought it was his most perfect revenge. Those spoilt little brats could flex, preen and pout to their hearts content, unaware of the plethora of plot details waiting to find their magical outlet in the false balm of a Scottish winter. It'd be too late before they realised their sudden error and found themselves toasted and taunted into a sudsy haze.

But how had this bizarre contrivance happened?

...

"What do you mean I only get three bloody dots and then I'm supposed to improvise my lines? I need lines, I need a script and I need to get to the Library," Hermione 'I've-got-brains-and-I'm-not-afraid-to-use-them' Granger ranted.

"Look, Hermione, you have to follow the script. This is a murder mystery weekend and you..."

"It's a fucking plot, Harry. Open your eyes for frigging Merlins sake. You might be the Boy-Who-Shagged-Everything-that-Moved...And-A-Few-Things-That- Didn't, but I'm the star of this production and don't you forget it."

"How could I forget it, Hermione. You keep bitching in my ear about your grades, your men and the fact that you've been resurrected 27 times to play this part. I have to tell you - I really don't give a shit any more!"

"How could you not give a shit, Harry. This part where you fight evil, flush out evil, fuck evil and..."

"I only slept with Draco once, not that there was much sleeping, but well he was hot in his leather trousers and well, a bloke has to do what a bloke has to do, not that you'd understand it at all Sr Hermione 'I'd-like-To-get- My-Knickers-in-A-Twist-But-I-Don't-Own-Any' Bloody Granger.

"CUT! - CUT!" Severus 'Have-I-Got-A-Twisted-Storyline-For-You' Fabio Snape yelled.

"If you two imbeciles would look at the script instead of counting out how many times you get to shag a male or female member of the extras, we might just get this bloody story finished before my hair is as long and as white as Albus'. I've had a gutful of your whinging. You, Miss 'Can't-You- Concentrate-On-Anything-other-than-your-tally-of-orgasms' Granger need to meet up with Calliope...err...Ginny for your regular Nymphomaniacs Anonymous meeting."

"I can't meet up with Ginny, as you well know. You wrote her out of Harry Potter and the Really Crappy Storyline. I think that was book number 22," Hermione 'You're-Treading-On-Thin-Ice' Granger continued.

"Remember, you made her blow herself up with an ill timed AK that bounced back off the magical shield put up by some poncy Death Eater who was wanking whilst he watched her getting undressed. You said it'd make readers come back for the next movie and that your royalties would go through the fucking roof, S..."

Harry was rudely interrupted by a rant of considerable size, as Severus 'I'm-Hung-Like-A-Hippogriff...So-they-Tell-Me' Snape swished his black robes around the erection of incredible size that was threatening to bulge out the front of his obviously handmade, but threadbare trousers.

"ENOUGH!" Snape shouted, though in such a smooth, silky, dangerous way, that fanfic...err...soapy writers were swooning in the aisles and trying valiantly to think of a plot that would suit such a demanding, but smouldering character.

Sweeping aside the females determined to hug his legs and his balls, Snape manoeuvred himself to a position in front of the extras and started casting around for a new lead instead of Harry 'No-Matter-How-many-Times-I-Give-Him- An-Impossibly-Rigged...err...Dangerous-Task-The-Little-Bastard-Still- manages-To-Beat...Bugger lost my train of thought' Potter still manages to beat Tom 'I've-Had-One-Too-Many-Acid-Peels' Riddle at the evil and domination game.

"He likes to be dominated, Snape, or hadn't you worked that out? Harry 'I've-Seen-Larger-things-Crawl-out-of-A-Piece-of-Cheese' Potter taunted.

"Well, you'd know, Mr 'Can't-You-Please-Do-Up-Your-Fly-As-You're-Making-Me- Feel-Ill' Potter, or are those whips and chains still missing from the props department?"

"Hey! Harry, you told me you needed to practice your technique for Lord 'Just-Call-Me-the-Son-Of-Salazar' Voldemort, but I have to admit, it did open my eyes to some of your less obvious traits", Ron 'I-Always-Get-The- Crappy-Lines' Weasley interrupted.

Muffled sobs off to the side of the set

Pan to wide vision...

Snape off to the side of the set, wringing his hands, gnashing his teeth and tearing at his hair in a touching rendition of every bloody death scene from every bloody soapy you can think of...

"Pull yourself together, Severus 'It's-All-Been-Done-Before-So-Give-It-A- Rest-For-Fucks-Sake' Fabio Snape," Hermione 'Now-Why-Didn't-I-Think-of-That- First' Granger ruminated as she watched the sales of the books and movies plummet earthward like the Starship Enterprise after 170,000,000 renditions of the opening theme.

Severus drew back from the Auto-Pensieve and calculated that along with the mutilations, face lifts, acid peels, bronzing oil and 38 years he'd wasted trying to relive the glory days of the first seven books, and that even though he'd bought out the rights to any and all sudisized offshoots of the original, life was definitely not fair and he was destined always to be thwarted...even in a bloody Soap Opera!

AUTHOR NOTES: Lacking a script, an ending or a definable beginning, but I had fun. I ditched the idea of using Aussie shows, though they would have filled the criteria admirably... This was originally written for challenge 23 at 30 Minute Fics, an LJ community for Harry Potter Fanfiction. The premise was to imagine Hogwarts as one large, ever repeating soap opera. You can tell I don't watch too many soapies. ;)