Jackie: Welcome to the revival of the renowned fanfic Beating the Odds! I'm your hostess and author for the night, Jackie Malfoy.
RakitWhore: And I'll be your coauthor, RakitWhore! Please keep all words and reviews inside the fic at all times, and there will be no smoking as this is a flame-free zone.
Draco-muse: ((looks around, confused)) Um, questions...A) Who is RakitWhore, B)Where are Agent Blorange and Takeru-muse, and C) Why the hell are we starting over?
Jackie: A) RakitWhore is my new co-author, because B) Agent Blorange is off in Stonerville somewhere with his beloved Squishy, and Takeru-muse is...well, I'm not sure, he hasn't shown his face in almost a year.
RakitWhore: And C) All the grammatical and factual errors in the old version would make an illiterate flinch!
Jackie: HEY! Well...yeah, he's right. Plus, I'm trying to work in a new dynamic that wasn't in the original coughslashcough
Draco-muse: ((Paling visibly)) You wouldn't dare.
Jackie: Sorry babe, popular demand and all. Ahem Don't own it. Never did, never will, please don't sue. All you'd get would be a refurbished crapbox passing itself off as a computer and an IBM Stinkpad that can't run anything but Windows 98...it isn't worth the legal fees.
Draco-muse: So, en...wait. RakitWhore, since this is your first fic, would you like to do the honors?
RakitWhore: My pleasure. Enjoy!
Chapter 1: Nosebleeds
Somewhere on the British Isles, hidden from view and protected by powers incomprehensible by the common man, stands a castle-like fortress known as Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Inside this massive structure, a ghost who doesn't even realize that he's a ghost lectures to a group of eleven-year-old students. However, the students really don't seem to notice that their History of Magic professor is a ghost...in fact, they seem rather bored and uninterested.
"Now, over the years," Professor Binns droned, "the lines of pure-blooded wizarding families have become weakened from lack of new genetic material, and this new generation of pure-blood wizards and witches are showing higher rates of diseases and genetic disorders than previous generations...many are dying or have been seriously disabled by things such as cystic fibrosis, epilepsy, muscular dystrophy, cancers..."
In another classroom, down in what used to be a dungeon, a class of older students is studying a completely different subject.
"Longbottom, kindly watch what you're doing with that root!"
Professor Snape was at his wits end trying to deal with poor Neville, who, as usual, had completely ruined his potion and was on the way to destroying his cauldron. This scene was far from unusual, and the Gryffindor and Slytherin 6th years paid little notice as they worked at their cauldrons with their assigned partners.
At a table in the back, a redheaded boy was busily measuring out ingredients from various vials and bottles, while a visibly annoyed blonde was adding them to the cauldron after carefully scrutinizing the measurements.
"Weasley, the potion calls for 3 milligrams, not three grams!"
"Well excuse me, Malfoy. I'm not accustomed to reading in this dim light...I'm not used to the dungeons like some people."
"Forget it." Draco sighed and measured out a small portion of the greenish-yellow liquid and added it to the steaming cauldron. As Draco stirred, Ron turned away from his partner and crossed his arms over his chest. "Maybe one of these days I'll get partnered with a person instead of a slimy ferret like you!"
Draco raised an eyebrow and a haughty smile crossed his face. "And maybe I'll get paired with someone with half a brain. But then again, maybe one of Neville's potions will work right without Granger's help. We both know Snape...what are the odds of..."
It took Ron a few seconds to register that Draco had stopped talking. Ron turned his head and saw Draco covering his mouth and nose with both hands, a look of shock on his face. "What's the matter, Malfoy, did you actually make a mistake? No, of course not, you're incapable of that..." Draco glared at Ron from behind his hands, then brought them down and stared at them in disgust. They were covered in blood, and there was an ever-growing smear of blood covering his upper lip. Ron felt his head swim...I don't like blood, I don't like blood..."Um, Professor Snape? I think we have a problem..."
Ron's sentence was cut off as Snape chose that moment to reach the table. Other students had already noticed Draco, and a chorus of "Oh my God! Gross! Eww!" has begun echoing through the room. Draco immediately covered his face again, and Ron made a valiant effort not to throw up. "Go clean yourself up, Mr. Malfoy," Snape growled quietly. Draco nodded his head slightly, and dashed out the door, leaving it to shut with a resonating bang. Once he had gone, Snape turned to glare at Ron, who visibly paled and began sputtering out excuses. "Professor, I didn't do anything! I was just sitting here and he--"
"Five points from Gryffindor for lying. One more word and I'll make it ten." With a swish of his robes, Snape turned and made his way back to the front of the class, glaring at every student he passed. Eventually, the faint buzz of whispering and mean looks ceased as everyone hustled to finish their potions before the end of class. Ron began stirring the potion angrily, fuming over his unfair treatment.
Stupid Malfoy. I wonder how he pulled that nosebleed off. Bet he did it on purpose just to get me in trouble. I wouldn't put it past him. Malfoy's always trying to get us in trouble for nothing. Bloody hell, he must get some sort of rise out of it. That crack about half a brain...the bastard! Sometimes I wish he would just die and do everyone a favor.
In the boy's lavatory down the hall, Draco was bent over with a paper towel held over his nose. "I hate these bloody things," he growled, his voice muffled by the paper. Removing the paper, he checked to see if the flow of blood had stopped yet. Satisfied that it had, he turned on the tap and rinsed off the stain as he scowled in irritation.
I bet one of the ruddy Gryffindors cursed me or something...probably Ron. He's not smart enough to learn it on his own though...mudblood or those idiot twins probably helped him. How he got to be a prefect, I'll never know. He can't do anything right, and he'll never be useful for anything.
As he left the bathroom, Draco tossed the towel into the garbage, but stopped to put a few in the pockets of his robes. Just in case...after all, I've been getting these all week...
Draco-muse: You know, I just thought of something...Agent Blorange was the story's self-proclaimed biggest fan. What's going to happen now that he's gone?
Jackie: Um, well...
Draco-muse: I mean, RakitWhore can't possibly hate me as much as he did...can he?
RakitWhore: Of course not...I hate you more.
((Draco-muse pales and sweatdrops))
Jackie: You'll have to excuse my friends; they're all male and could care less about anything that doesn't have boobs.
Draco-muse: ((gulp)) I'm in trouble.
Jackie: Don't worry sweetie, he's just jealous that you're cuter and more girls like you.
RakitWhore: . . . What?
Jackie: Uh, um...Stay Tuned!
RakitWhore: And please review while a have a talk with my coauthor.
((Jackie sweatdrops))