Hellooo there, friends! College starts in a week, so naturally I've decided to start writing more fanfics...because logic. This is an idea I've had for a long time now, so - again, because of logic - I wrote it...at 2:30 in the morning. So. Yep.

James finds some interesting crayons in Ginny's purse and, having found his muse, decides to share his vision with the world.

Little Picasso-Potter.

Until next time, my lovelies!

-E

It was difficult, James thought to himself, to draw things properly when silly Mummy's crayons only came in one color. And how strange it was, he noticed, that you had to twist them to get them to work. The one thing he did appreciate about Mummy's crayons was how smoothly they wrote across the white canvas; how freely they allowed his little hands to illustrate.

Though the monochrome crayons had stymied him for a moment, he had to admit that his next problem was a rather more pressing matter. James knew that Mummy liked Quidditch – which coincidentally was a very silly word – and he wanted desperately to draw her a Quidditch, but his only reference was the magazine he'd found in her purse next to the crayons and it appeared to be in another language. James was the smartest boy he knew and he couldn't read the strange words on the page – a sure sign that they were Gobbledygook or something similar – so he had to make up his own words for each of the Quidditch pictures.

Those three circles with the sticks coming out of them were spoons, obviously, so he labeled them so. "Spewns," he wrote. (James wasn't sure what kind of game included spoons, only knew that it must be good if there was food involved.) Next, James had to name all the balls he knew were involved. One he could remember Uncle Georgie talking about: the "Booger," he'd called it. James was sure of it, so he wrote in mummy's funny crayon, Buger. Next he saw the red ball and, since it was quite large, James dubbed it big ball. The last thing he had to label – for no drawing was worth its salt without labels – was the smallest ball, which James already knew the proper name of. The Snich.

James stepped back to admire his work and couldn't help the chubby-cheeked smile that spread across his face. Mummy was going to love it.

Of course naughty Alby chose that moment to start making a fuss, and James knew that Mummy was downstairs and Daddy was in the study, so he tottered into Alby's room to quiet the silly infant.

"Shh, Alby, I'm busy." Albus, who was so often calmed by the simple sound of someone's voice, rolled over in his crib and eyed his older brother sideways.

He was very silly, but at least he was quiet now and James could go back to his masterpiece.

It took him a minute to return because his little legs were tired and the silly ground had decided to go sideways a couple of times, but he eventually reached his destination. He was a little surprised – and at the same time, not at all – to see Daddy standing there already, eyeing James's canvas.

"Daddy, it's good!" James cried very eloquently and Daddy glanced down at him. James thought Daddy looked quiet strange just then, with his mouth pulled tight like he was trying not to smile; but James understood that Daddy had to be objective here and so couldn't release all of his unadulterated joy at once.

"Yes," Daddy said, voice alight with glee. "It's wonderful, James."

The artist beamed, admiring his masterpiece. Something seemed different about it, he realized, but he couldn't quiet place it – perhaps it was just seeing it with fresh eyes that made it seem different.

"Let's show Mummy," Daddy said, still bursting at the seams. "Ginny, come up here; you have to see this."

It took a moment, and James could hear some clattering sounds from the kitchen, but then Mummy's footsteps were coming up the stairs and James could hardly contain his excitement.

He heard her rounding the corner, and turned to face her, a winning smile on his little face.

"What is it darling?" She asked, and then her eyes fell upon James's artwork and his sprawling canvas – the newly-painted white hallway walls.

"James," she breathed and the little boy couldn't help but grin. It took his breath away, too. "No. James, no!"

His little heart sank. No? But no was a bad thing.

Mummy knelt in front of him, sending a glare at Daddy, and took him by the hands. "You're not to draw on the walls, James, we've talked about this."

He only blinked at her, hazel eyes wide and close to tears. Mummy didn't seem to think he'd understood – and he hadn't – so she continued.

"This," she pointed to his pretty painting. "This is not… hang on." Her eyes narrowed and she glanced between James and his daddy before she stood up and put her hands on her hips.

Daddy looked awfully guilty of something – James knew the look, it was a fashion he sported frequently.

"Is that your handwriting?" Mummy pointed to one of James's pictures that had been labeled big ball, but was now labeled, clearly in adult script, Quaffle.

Daddy (the vandal) tried to avoid Mummy's glare, but now he had to avoid two angry people because James had his little hands on his hips, too, and he was not pleased.

"Well, he was labeling them wrong," Daddy finally said. Mummy looked between him and the wall a few times and then a sound bubbled out of her chest, almost like laughter. Mummy and Daddy looked at each other for a few seconds and then they both started laughing. James glared up at his parents – vandalism was not a joke! But the little boy dearly loved to laugh, and thought that being grumpy was a bit exhausting anyway, so he quickly joined in on his parents' amusement.

Eventually, Mummy bent over to scoop James into her warm arms, and he nuzzled against her. "Now, I know we're laughing right now, James, because this is silly, but we won't think it's funny next time, will we, Daddy?"

Daddy coughed to hide a laugh and then said in a strained voice: "Of course not, James, this is very serious business."

James giggled, but nodded because he knew it was what Mummy wanted him to do. She smiled and kissed James on the cheek, which made him giggle again and wrap his chubby arms tightly around her neck. Mummy was a fickle creature, James decided, but he liked her and her hugs anyway.

"How does some lunch sound?" Mummy asked and James made a happy sound against her shoulder. She squeezed him tight and started walking toward the stairs.

And then silly Alby started fussing. Daddy went to fetch him and Mummy took James into the kitchen for lunch, where she served him ham and macaroni and cheese.

Macaroni, James thought to himself, would be an excellent medium for his next art project.

It was also quite good for eating.

Later, after silly Mummy had put James into bed for his nap – even though, as James had protested loudly, he was a big boy and didn't need a nap! – James caught a bit of Mummy and Daddy's whispered conversation.

"Honestly, Harry," Mummy scolded. (She was very silly to forget Daddy's name and call him hairy instead.)

There was the sound of muffled laughter, and then Daddy yelled "ow!" (Silly Daddy must have tripped or something.)

"This was my good lipstick, too," Mummy said and her voice sounded dangerously close to whining, though it couldn't be because she'd given James explicit instructions on more than one occasion that he wasn't to whine, and Mummy never broke the rules.

Daddy was laughing again. "OW!" (James thought he should teach Daddy how not to fall over, because he seemed to have forgotten.)

"Laugh all you want, Mr. Potter – you're buying me some new lipstick."

James hoped that she was talking about her special red crayons, because they were quite good and he wanted more for his future art projects.

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