Summery – AU: Harry Potter is the new transfer student from America – and everyone wants a piece of him. He's not only the strong and silent type, but there's just something about him that makes everyone want to get to know him… including young Draco Malfoy.

Warning – THIS STORY WILL CONTAIN SLASH! THIS MEANS MALE ON MALE PAIRING! IF YOU DON'T LIKE IT – DON'T READ IT! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!

Disclaimer – I own nothing aside from the plot. I am making no money off of this in any way. Sue me and get nothing! (This applies for the entire story)

There are so many lies out there in the world that the truth is just another one.

Chapter 1 – The Truth

It all started with that damned prophecy. If only something else had happened, then maybe it could have been over sooner, but nooooo – that's not the way Murphy's Law works.

Maybe I should start at the beginning. You know the prophecy I'm talking about, right? The one about "the Dark Lord shall mark him as his equal… he shall have powers the Dark Lord knows not… neither can live while the other survives…" – sound familiar? Good; now this is what happened the night Voldemort found out about the prophecy…

Voldemort and Bellatrix Lestrange arrived at a house at number 38, Kendall Drive, and broke into it. Bellatrix proceeded to use the Cruticus Curse on both Alice and Frank Longbottom until they could handle it no longer; by the time the curse had been lifted, neither Longbottom was able to tell the difference between up and down. With a shrill laugh, Lestrange had then turned around to see how Voldemort would handle the smallest Longbottom, who was barely one year old.

Voldemort had lifted his wand arm and hissed, "Neville Longbottom, I mark you as my equal," and then Avada Kedavara-ed the boy. Let's just say that it was pretty anti-climatic…

Well, that was the end of that prophecy.

Now, in a perfect world, someone would have showed up the second the prophecy had been fulfilled and would have taken care of Voldemort and be done with it – but this is anything but a perfect world. No, no one showed up until three and a half hours later – needless to say, both Bellatrix and Voldemort were long gone.

It took another 15 years or so to finally get rid of the monster that was killing off not only the wizarding world, but the muggle one as well. In fact, it was a man named Albus Dumbledore who actually finished Voldemort; he had somehow managed to burn the bastard into nothing more than a pile of ash. Unfortunately, the following night, at a party celebrating the end of the 'Dark Era,' the Headmaster was listening to a joke (something about a troll and a hag who go into a bar) when he choked on a muggle candy he was eating at the time (I believe that it's called a Lemon Drop), and he was dead before he hit the ground.

Now that's all fine and dandy, you say, but what does that have to do with me? Well, that prophecy could have been talking about two people: Neville Longbottom, or me. My parents had a pretty bad feeling at the time, so they packed up all of out things, and we moved to New York, New York (my mother's home town) the night before the Longbottoms were attacked. The ironic part, however, was that at the exact moment, or so I've been told, that the Longbottoms cracked, my Dad lost control of the rental car we were in, and ran off of the road, right into a McDonald's sign. The really weird part was when a toy of mine, that had a bunch of weather related shapes on it, flew out of my hands and hit me on the forehead. I have been told that the moment I was hit with the lightening bolt was the same moment that Neville died… kind of creepy. The best part? I now have a scar on my forehead to remind me of that night.

The car crash could have been avoided if my parents hadn't packed away their wands, but, unfortunately, their wands were somewhere between the cream of wheat and the baby wipes, and my parents didn't survive the crash.

I wish I could say that I miss them, but I really don't remember anything about them; the only real memory I have is of a bright green light, which I have a feeling was a stop light. I have never been told anything about my parents, just that I look exactly like my father and that I have my mother's eyes. One would think that if someone grew up with their aunt, uncle and cousin then they'd know something about their parents, but no – my 'family' doesn't talk about those "freaks" who "got what the deserved."

You see, after the car crash, I was given to the only relatives I had left: the Dursleys. Petunia Dursley, my aunt, is my mother's sister, and she holds a … grudge, per say, against her; Aunt Petunia was royally pissed when she didn't receive an invitation to Hogwarts like her older sister – she just couldn't handle the fact that she was a squib. So what did she do? She turned her back on the wizarding world and married the worst muggle she could find.

Vernon Dursley – oh god – what did I do to deserve to grow up with him? Of all the people my aunt could have married, she chose him. Before my cousin or I, Vernon was a professional truck diver, working for a company called Grunnings. He would get up, drive the truck to some place on the other side of America, and then come home and get drunk. I would assume that Petunia thought that she wouldn't have to deal with him very much, seeing as how he would be gone for days at a time, but then, he got a job in the building.

Life went from bed to worse. Uncle Vernon was home more, which meant that he could get drunk more, which meant that he could yell at me more, which meant that he would end up doing so much more than that. God – all of the awful things my whale-of-a-cousin Dudley and horse-mouthed aunt have done to me cannot even begin to compare to what Vernon does when he's drunk and pissed. I had thought that going to Grebes Head Academy for Witches and Wizards would make things better, seeing as how I wouldn't be 'home' but for the summer holiday. How wrong I was.

Aunt Petunia used to stop Vernon whenever he would start to go too far, but when she saw the acceptance letter to Grebes Head, she let her grudge on my mom carry over to me. For the past six years, every summer since I've turned 11, she does nothing to prevent Vernon from doing as he wishes – sometimes she even stays in the room so she can call me a freak without me being able to leave.

Vernon Dursley's drunken tactics never seem to change; "boy!" he yells, which is the cue for me to drop whatever I'm doing and run to his side. He then starts to yell at me, telling me that I'm an ungrateful freak who should have died along with my good-for-nothing parents… then comes the fists; if I'm lucky, Vernon will have already put down the shot glass in his hand before he swings at me, but most likely not. The glass cuts my arms, chest, face, and the left over whiskey stings as it mixes with my blood. I have learned not to make any noises or he does it even longer. By the time he decides that he has had enough of the punching, he'll push me down onto the ground and will start to kick me. When he's done with that, depending on his mood, he'll pull down his pants and… oh god – I can't say it…

When he has relieved himself, he makes me clean up the 'mess I made.' I then crawl back to my room, or the cupboard under the stairs, depending on where he sends me, and then I down the pain relieving potions that I nicked from school, and collapse onto the bed before I cry myself to sleep.

Everyone at my school knows me – not because I'm some sort of hero… not because I'm popular… nor because I play any sort of sport. No, everyone knows me because I'm the geek with the glasses, the unruly hair, and the baggy clothes. I have no friends; I have no where else to go…

My whole world changed the summer before my 7th, and final, year at school…

(A/N): I know that this chapter was really short, but this is basically just the background for the story. The next chapter will be up very soon! Please review – I really appreciate them! Thanks!