Amarissa had half fallen asleep on the couch. She had been allowed to go home for Christmas, to celebrate things properly with her mother and nephew. Brandon had been overjoyed to see her, frantically running around the house to show her the projects he had worked on, the creations he had made, anything that had been changed in the house while she was gone. Her mother had stood at the oven, tight lipped and silent during this time. Amarissa already knew what was coming. The pointed look that showed her how much Brandon had missed her, and that she should be, and why wasn't she home? Why were they keeping her in England so long when things were clearly getting out of hand again? Was she putting herself in danger? They had at least made it through dinner, and through gifts before her mother set in on her. When Brandon was safely tucked away in one of the new toys he had received, her mother had started muttering in soft Spanish, smiling at Brandon all while berating Amarissa.
It had been a long evening. And when she had felt an flair of irritation at her mother, she knew she wouldn't have traded such a night for anything, not when she tucked Brandon into bed. He had clung sleepily to her hand while she read him one of his favorite stories. He had asked when she was coming home, and if she would be there in the morning, and Amarissa had to explain quietly that she had to go back to work. Still, she had managed. It had taken a few glasses of wine, and ignoring most of what her mother was saying, but it had been good to be home. After all, no matter how long she was in Number 13, and how she decorated the rooms, her mother's house in Spain was still where she had spent most of her childhood, where she was used to sleeping and eating the vast amount that her mother liked to cook. And she had spent Amarissa home with plenty. She had placed two large bags of food in Amarissa's arms with a complaint that she was looking too thin for allowing Amarissa to head back.
She had left everything on the kitchen table, including the small picture frame Brandon had made her, got a glass of wine and sat down on the couch, her feet up on the table and head tilted back. She had only been asleep for a few moments when she heard the knock on the door. Standing up, Amarissa pulled her robes a bit more tightly about her and sleepily pushed her hair out of her face. There really could only be one person that would knock like that, but she wondered exactly what he was doing here. Slipping her wand from her pocket, she tapped to let the wards down before opening the door to allow the other inside.
"And Happy Christmas to you," Amarissa said, her voice just tinged around the edges with sleep. But, from the looks of James, he probably wouldn't sound much different. Or maybe even worse, she reflected.