James and Lily both had that autistic thing where they say how it is.
James POV
The dryer machine is humming against my back in a soothing way as I play with my fidget cube. My feet are adorned by soft slippers so they don't feel the rough floor.
"...no, no, no, no...."
Lily shuffles in, carrying one of her dresses. Her cheeks are red, and she's scowling anxiously. I can soon see why; her favorite flowery dress is stained with something resembling paint.
I stay in my spot, my nose having just caught a whiff of something chemical and unpleasant. "Everything alright, darling?"
She starts a little, the tension easing in her face when she sees me. "James! I didn't even see you there."
Her arms move in a rhythmic way at her sides, reminding me adorably of a penguin. "My dress. It's my favorite. And it got dirty. And it smells awful."
I stand up, looking for the laundry soap she always uses. We both sigh with relief when I see the green bar of soap sitting neatly in its soap holder. I Transfigured it from a piece of cardboard a while ago.
I go back to my comfortable spot as Lily calms herself down, humming ABBA. She loves them so much, and it's so cute to see her lose herself in the music.
My wand slides out of my pocket, and I make bubbles come out of the end. The sight of them soothes me.
When Lily is done putting her dress in the washing machine, she joins me on the floor.
She's giggling. "Always the bubbles."
The dryer stops its soothing, rumbling hum, and I excitedly jump up, eager to touch the warm clothes. Lily laughs a little as I plunge my hands into the warm warm warm dryer. Warm is such a nice word.
I fold every one of them into a laundry basket, the same one I use every time. "I'll wash the clothes next time, Lily."
She kneels by me, sighing. "No, James. I don't mind washing them all. Really. I know how much you hate the soap."
I shake my head, flapping my hands a little as my words jam in my head. "I need to...need to.. get over. I....get over it."
Lily understands me, somehow. "I respect that, baby. But you are always so anxious and stressed out afterwards, and it throws your whole day off."
Stubbornly, I shake my head, now rocking and flapping my hands even more frantically. Trying to soothe myself, I touch my warm clothes again. All the uncomfortable ouch ouch ouch goes away.
I state bluntly, "Everything can be fixed. And this needs to be fixed. I need to fix it. I need to fix it."
She pats my arm. "Perhaps you need to...Transfigure something."
I nod, folding a pair of warm socks as my mind begins to spin with ideas.
After my laundry is put away and I'm eating some chocolate chip biscuits, I make the plate of them follow me to the laundry room.
Hours later, I've made it so Lily can smell and feel the soap, but I can't do the same. Satisfied, I pick up the laundry soap bar. When the smell and the texture doesn't bother me, I happily yell and flap my hands.
Lily finds me later sitting in the garden, nomming away at my cookies. She chuckles at me. "I knew I'd find you out here."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"James, wasn't that a bit rude?"
I look back at Remus, confused. "All I said was that his beard is uneven. What if he doesn't know?"
He grins. "You're lucky it's Dumbledore."
Sirius chuckles, patting my shoulder. "He's just blunt, Moony. It's not a bad trait."
"Mr. Potter, that is five House points from Gryffindor for not tucking in your shirt!"
My good mood quickly deteriorates and I'm terribly anxious. My hands are flapping painfully. "Too tight, too tight, too tight, too tight!"
Remus tries to adjust my robes to hide my shirt, but I flinch away, much too overwhelmed and frantic. He stays calm, though. "There's a spell, James, that makes your robes stay closed."
I nod, rocking and flapping my hands to try to calm myself. Once I feel a little better, I let Remus do the Spell.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Smol baby James, he's 8 here (before aunt Edna died) James struggled to talk as a kid. He's a bit of a spoiled kid here but also emotionally neglected, sadly.
Smol James POV
"James, silly, get back here! You've dirt on your face!"
Giggling, I run back to Mummy. "Uncle Lyle fly!"
She understands me, rubbing dirt off my face. I squirm away. Her washcloth feels icky. "Your tenth birthday, dear, you'll have a broom."
Hmph! "But....now. Now, Mummy. Big enough."
She sighs, getting that look. They always give me what I want...why not the broom? I want to practice for Quidditch when I'm big enough!
Mummy eventually pats my head. "I know, dear. I hear you. But we are just worried it won't be safe."
I shake my head. "Uncle Lyle safe."
She smiles a little. "He's grown up, James."
Hmph. I run outside to watch uncle Lyle. My arms are aching for Mr. Dinosaur. But I'm trying to be a big kid!
Halfway through, I regret not grabbing Mr. Dinosaur. My socks are itchy and I don't like these pants. Only my shoes are nice. I need my dinosaur but I'm not a little kid anymore!
As hard as I try, I begin crying. Mr. Dinosaur makes all the ouchies and itchies go away. But he isn't here! And I'll make uncle Lyle sad. And then he'll ignore me and Mummy will ignore me and Daddy will ignore me.
Uncle Lyle lands on the ground and bows dramatically, making me giggle. He grins at me and ruffles my hair. "And he caught the Snitch again!"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
