Chosen ~ a George Weasley love story (BOOK 1) *complete*

I

"Up...Up...Willow, wake up! Now!" A strict lady snapped at eleven-year old me, Willow Abram, who was sound asleep in my room...the cabinet under the stairs.

This woman that was knocking madly on the cabinet door and snapping at me to wake up happens to be my strict and stone cold aunt Helen.

Aunt Helen gave the door one final slap and walked away back into the kitchen.

I slightly opened my eyes and sighed, sat up, and rubbed my eyes, remembering what day it was.

It was my cousin Mary's eleventh birthday.

Truthfully, I thought that I deserved more than Mary's old underwear and socks...

I sat up and smoothed out my shoulder-length cinnamon colored hair, and the little amount of light that shone through the peep hole of the door shone on one of my mossy colored eyes.

I stood up and opened the door, and walked out to a blast of air that smelled of bacon and toast and eggs.

Of course in this house hold, I wasn't aloud any of that. My breakfast consisted of dry cereal and one glass of milk.

Dinner was no different.

My dinner consisted of a glass of water and a bowl of soup or a dish of tuna or five-day-old leftovers.

You see, I was the "maid" of the house. So I did the cooking, cleaning, and waited on my uncle, aunt, and cousin hand and foot. If I disobeyed, I was sent straight to the cabinet and wasn't aloud to see the light for the rest of the day.

Mary, on the other hand, was rotten to the core and spoiled like no other child. Anything she pleaded was handed to her. Anything she lied about was gotten away with. Anything she thought was "right". And this sort of stuff infuriated me, but of course, I learned to keep my lips shut and bite my tongue.

I walked into the kitchen, where uncle Barry was sitting at the table reading the paper. He was a rather fat man with blonde hair, the belly of Santa, and the nose of Rudolf.

Helen was a tall and skinny woman, with a pointed nose and chin. Almost witch like. And her hair was short and curled and black.

Mary resembled her father. Fat, pig-faced, and blonde.

"Hurry up," Barry demanded, "bring my damn coffee." He impatiently barked.

"Yes, uncle Barry." I said, switching from the stove to the coffee maker, and pouring the black coffee into the mug.

I handed him the mug and continued to cook Mary's birthday breakfast.

Footsteps were heard trembling down the steps and stomping into the kitchen.

"There she is! My little princess!" Helen squealed as she attacked Mary's face with kisses.

"Happy birthday, sweetheart." Barry said with a cheeky smile.

"Where's my food?" Mary stomped.

"Where's our breakfast, Abram?" Barry spat.

"Right here, uncle Barry." I said as I placed the plates in front of Barry and Mary.

"I want cookies!" Mary shouted. Barry and Helen shot me a look.

Knowingly, I didn't dare to huff or sigh or roll my eyes.

I nodded and went in the cupboard and pulled out a package of chocolate chip cookies, and placed them on the table.

"Good. Now clean up." Helen said with the snap of her fingers.