Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. If I did, Harry wouldn't spend five whole books calling one of his father's (and probably mother's) best friends 'Lupin'.

Harry walked into the living room, giggling when a very hyper Sirius swooped him into a hug, talking excitedly. "My little Prongslet! Did you sleep well? Are you hungry? You brushed your teeth, right? Because Remus is almost done making breakfast and I am starving so le– OW! REMUS!"

Remus shrugged, clearly conveying the Animagus deserved it. "Let Harry do some talking too, Sirius. You've spoken enough in the last three decades."

"Wha- Moony, I'm not even twenty eight yet!"

Harry plopped onto his chair with another giggle as the werewolf muttered 'I doubt you're even eight'. Before Sirius could retort, Harry piped up, "You guys are very funny, you know?"

Mood switching up almost instantly, Sirius grinned. "Oh Moony, you hear that? Harry, appreciating our humor. Jamesie-poo must be rolling in his grave right now."

Remus smirked, "Smarter than Prongs even at the ripe age of seven, huh?"

Harry facepalmed; as entertaining as he found his godfathers, he had interrupted their usual bickering so he would find the time to ask The Very Important Questions, only to have them talk about something else. Before he could say anything, however, Sirius started talking, seeming to be very worried.

"Harry? Are you alright? Lay down on the couch, I'll bring you your blanket. Is it a headache, a fever?"

Remus sighed. "Harry, you think your teacher would let Sirius sit in the class too? Clearly the man needs to learn when to let others speak, don't you think?"

Harry paused, thinking carefully. "I think she will, Miss Whit is very nice after all. If not, I'll ask her to teach me and then Remus, I'll teach you and then we can teach Sirius together so he learns it even better. Oh! I'll need a bow, good teachers always wear a bow. Should we make a bow, Remus? Do you know how to make one? We can put it on Padfoot and then Padfoot will look so pretty!" Quite satisfied with his thinking, Harry looked at his guardians, only to find one of them holding onto the counter, shaking suspiciously, while the other seemed to be sulking quite a lot (Remus had taught him the word when Harry once asked why Sirius was walking around the room looking all sad, worried he was sick). Deciding the latter was not really a rare sight, the concerned seven year old focused on the former. Not able to figure out what was going on, he asked, "Sirius, is Remus alright?"

"Oh yes, he is wonderful, I'm sure. He's laughing, that cheeky bas- baseball."

"Just like when Mr Dumbles dances with his beard." Harry sagely reasoned, and then Sirius decided to also laugh, dramatically falling to the floor. Harry sighed. It was an adult thing, he had realized, laughing for no reason. Though Sirius and Remus seemed to do it much more than any other adults Harry knew, so he was even more used to it.

Thus unperturbed, he sat back on the chair, having stood up in excitement when talking about Sirius being his classmate – how wonderful that would be! He could spend even more time playing with Sirius and then, after getting back home, play with Remus too! Sometimes, when he would ask Remus to play with him after school, the werewolf would coax him into reading books with him instead, claiming that Sirius had tired him out. Harry did not know what exactly Sirius made him do, but whatever it was could now be avoided. Really, Sirius should know better than to make Remus so busy that he wouldn't have the energy to play with Harry!

Remus's voice brought him out of his thoughts. "Sorry, cub, we got a little sidetracked. To answer your questions, yes, I do know how to make a bow. I'll get some ribbon next time I go to the store and then we can make them. And yes, of course, we'll put them on Padfoot. Isn't that right, pretty Padfoot?"

"You wish."

"Harry wishes, and you know you can't say no to him."

Sirius rolled his eyes, but did not say no, and Harry, smiling happily, took it as a yes. Remus, after poking his tongue at Sirius, turned his attention to the young boy. "So, kiddo, why did you hit your head right then, before we deduced Sirius is in desperate need of elementary school lessons?"

Ignoring Sirius's indignant squawk, Harry replied "Because you keep talking. I want to ask something, but you guys were not shushing."

Amused, Sirius sat down on the chair beside him. "Sorry, Prongslet. What is it?"

"The Very Important Questions." was the reply, matter-of-fact.

Exchanging a look with Remus, as he seemed to do quite often, Sirius spoke again. "And may we inquire as to what these very important questions are?"

"Mhmm!"

Remus made a weird sound, putting the plates he had just retrieved on the counter. "He is spending too much time around us, Siri." The shine in his eyes was still there as he turned to Harry and simply said, "Go on, ask us."

Harry stood up on the chair before turning to Sirius. "Sirius, do you love me?"

The adults shared a smile, very much like the smile they had given him when he had made them a card on their anniversary.

"Aw, Prongslet, was that your very important question? Of course I love you! I love you so so so much that we can fill a whole Quidditch stadium with it and still have more love left!"

"Silly Padfoot, I said questions, which means more than one! And I love you too, I can fill five stadiums with mine!" Harry's grin was lost in Sirius's shirt as the black haired man pounced on him, hugging him fiercely and whispering 'I love you' about a million times before finally letting him go (Harry did not know how big that number was, but he was pretty certain Padfoot must've crossed that limit with how little he paused to even take a breath).

Shaking his head at the very predictable antics, Harry focused on the task at hand.

"Sirius, do you love Remus?"

Even before Sirius spoke, Harry knew he wouldn't get a straight answer; SIrius had his teasing grin on. "Well, he isn't too bad. To be honest," he continued in a stage whisper, "I only keep him around because of his cooking. Don't tell him I said that!"

"I think he heard." Harry replied in a stage whisper of his own, and hid his smile when he saw Remus add something to Sirius's plate without the latter noticing. Living with his godfathers was anything but boring.

"And now, the last question." Harry spoke quite seriously; this was the big one. The other two questions, while important in that he liked hearing the replies, were ones he already knew the answers to, had heard the answers numerous times a day for as long as he could remember. This one, however, was the question which was the most important, simply because he did not know the answer. He had thought carefully, and for a long time, but his answer just came out wrong every time. So, he had decided to ask his godfathers, since they always knew about things he was curious about, or helped him find the right answers if they didn't know (which was rare considering how smart they were, something Harry was extremely proud of).

Turning towards Remus, he focused on his mission. Lost in thoughts, he had missed the bemused expressions on their faces as they tried to figure out the sudden shift in his demeanor. With a deep breath, which from anyone else would have been an indication of knowing just what they were going to cause with that question but from a seven-year-old was simply an indication of putting his trust in his guardians and hoping they would set him on the right path, he asked, "Remus, do you love Remus?"

Remus smiled and, walking into the room laden with breakfast, the tray of beverages floating behind him, corrected Harry. "You mean do I love Sirius, right?"

"No, I said it right, Remus." Focusing on carefully plucking the tray from the air, biting his lips in concentration, he missed the bewildered looks shared by the other two. Only once the tray was securely on the table did he look up, catching Sirius's confused expression as the dog Animagues gently asked, "What do you mean, pup?"

Harry frowned. It wasn't like them to not understand him; Remus and Sirius knew him so well that they often anticipated his thoughts before he could even finish saying them out loud. And it wasn't like he had asked something difficult, was it?

Oh well, thought Harry, I can just explain like Miss Whit did to us.

"We read The Ugly Duckling in class some days ago. Do you guys know that story? We have read it at bedtime too."

Bewildered, the two wizards nodded.

"Miss Whit likes to talk about stories, just like Remus. She talked about The Ugly Duckling too, after we finished reading it. I read two whole paragraphs!"

"That's amazing, Prongslet, you're working so hard on your reading." Remus said with a smile, but Harry felt like his mind was somewhere else; Remus was pretty amazing at thinking so many things together. Harry especially loved seeing him have different conversations at the same time, and it felt like he was doing so right now too, though with whom, Harry couldn't fathom.

"Bet you'll be teaching your Miss Whit how to read in no time!" Sirius's smile was just as big, and Harry giggled at the silly statement.

"She reads very nicely, Sirius. Anyways, after we finished reading the story, Millie asked a question. 'Why did the ugly duckling not know it was a swan? Don't ducklings have mirrors?'. Then Rick said, 'Well, water is like a mirror too. Didn't the ugly duckling see itself in the water when it met the swans?'. Then Letty said 'Oh, I know! He couldn't see the other swans' faces, they were wearing masks!'. Then when everyone laughed, Miss Whit smiled too. Then she told us, 'Letty's explanation is very fun, but the ugly duckling saw the swans very well. Can you guess why he still didn't realise?'"

Here, Harry paused to let the two Marauders think; his teachers always paused after asking questions.

"When no one answered right, Miss Whit told us that the ugly duckling never saw himself well. He did not like how others made fun of him, and so he did not like his ugly fur and his ugly beak and everything else and did not want to look at any of them. She said that after meeting the swans he started looking at himself too, because he started liking himself. Then she asked us to think of pretty things that we like to look at, and said we probably do so because we like those things. And then when I came home that day I looked and looked and looked at you two because you're both so pretty and then I looked at my pretty eyes and my pretty hair too. And then Sirius looked at himself in the mirror so much," Harry ignored the half-hearted huff from Sirius, "and Remus made fun of it too and then you both looked at each other so much too. But Moony," Here, the seven-year-old turned his focus solely towards the werewolf, looking at his pretty, shiny eyes, "when do you look at the mirror? I never see you doing it."

"What do you mean, kid? Sure he does, when he's styling his hair or when he's about to go out or probably a hundred other times that your tiny eyes don't see!"

Not impressed by the carefree reply, Harry sighed. "That's not what I mean, Padfoot. Moony looks at his outfit, but you know he always uses magic for his hair. And he never even looks at a mirror when he walks by it like you always do, Padfoot. The hallway mirror has even stopped telling him to do this or that like it does to us! Isn't that right, Moony?"

Harry noticed how Remus's eyes kept dancing around the room, as if the answer was written somewhere on the walls or beside the kitchen cabinet. He opened his mouth several times, but did not say anything. Seeing his eyes stuck to the very nice living room clock that always wished them good night, Harry spoke again, "Oh! I got it! Do you have a time for when you look at yourself? It must be after my bedtime, then, is it, Remus? Moony, can I please please stay up after bedtime today? I will even sleep without a story if you let me see, honest!"

Had he been a few years older, he might have seen the pain in Remus's eyes as he failed to string together words into some semblance of a response, or the dawning realization in Sirius's eyes as he understood what the young boy, in his innocent way, was actually asking Remus. Had he been having this conversation a few years later, Harry would have probably not brought up the topic in the first place or, if he had still done so, would have understood that the growing dread on Remus's face was aimed at the question, and not himself. Being too young still to understand such intricacies, however, the seven-year-old grew alarmed at the pinched expression on both the adults' faces.

Chin wobbling and eyes welling up, afraid he had said something wrong, he said, "I'm so sorry, please don't be mad! I'll not ask you again, Moony, you can look at yourself when I'm already asleep, please don't cry. I'm sorry, Moony. Padfoot, please m–"

"Harry, please, it's alright. No one is mad at you kiddo." Sirius gathered his young charge in his arms as he spoke, running his fingers through the trademark Potter hair in a soothing gesture. Harry clung tight to him, eyes finally meeting Remus's still shimmering ones; the young boy's teary voice had seemed to break him out of his trance.

When Remus finally spoke, it was but a soft "Oh, Harry," as he almost subconsciously reached for the kid and, in no time, had the green-eyed child gripping his knit cardigan in his small fists, mumbling apologies broken by hiccups. Harry calmed down gradually, hearing the soft, almost incoherent words mumbled into his hair by Remus. When, finally, the child's eyes were dry and his breathing back to normal, Remus started speaking in slow, stilted words, as if weighing everything he was saying.

"I don't really… find it interesting to look at myself, cub. I mean," he smiled slightly, crookedly, "what's really there to see, huh?"

Harry looked at him, frowning. "Your face, obviously. What else would you see?"

"Well, cub, I see my hair, have a look at my clothes, count my eyes and nose and ears to make sure I haven't gone and left something in the fridge in my hurry!" Remus's tone was light, but his efforts were only rewarded with a very small smile. Harry saw the look on Sirius's face and realized it was up to him to explain what he meant; it was the same look that Sirius would sport when he would leave it to Remus to help him understand his homework – his I'm-just-gonna-sit-back-and-see-how-this-unfolds look.

Scrambling into his chair and subconsciously adopting the same tone that the werewolf did during their study sessions, Harry requested, "Moony, can you please close your eyes and tell me what color Padfoot's eyes are?"

Slightly confused, he did as told.

"They're gray, a light blue sometimes."

"And what about yours?"

"Amber. Why are you asking these questions, Progslet?"

"How many moles do you have on your face?"

Remus opened his eyes in bewilderment, and Harry turned to Sirius. "Do you know the answer?"

Curious about where this was leading, the Animagus easily replied, "Remus had five, but he's got a new one under his left eye. I have three."

"Do you know how many moles I have, Remus?"

"You have three as well. Harry, really, what is up with the moles?"

"If you look at your face, why do you not know about it, Moony?"

Remus, too dumbfounded, did not know what to say. Harry continued, "Why are you saying you don't find it interesting to look at yourself, when you haven't even seen your face so nicely yet? Your eyes are so pretty, Remus, and you have so many cool lines on your face here and there, and you have so many moles and freckles, like little join-the-dots. Why don't you look at them?"

Seeing that the child was getting worked up again, Sirius scooped him into his arms, placing a hand on the cheeks still stained with teartracks. "You're right. Our Moony is really very beautiful, is he not?" Chuckling at the emphatic nods he got in reply, he continued, smiling sadly as his eyes found Remus, roaming around his ace as if memorizing every detail for the thousandth time, "You see, pup, sometimes we love some things so much, but there's still parts of it we might not like, and that makes it a little hard for us to accept those things. Remember how it took the ugly duckling a while to realize he was a swan, even after he looked at himself in the water? And then it took him longer still to understand that he was finally where he belonged?" Harry, finally smiling again, nodded.

"Well, this is a little like that, really. Remus here does not really like some things, so he simply avoids looking at them."

"But what if- what about when I like those things, will he still not look at them?"

"Do you like green beans because I do?"

With a disgusted face, Harry vehemently shook his head, causing the two men to smile at the adorable sight.

"Same way, Moony doesn't like his scars, even though we think they are cool."

"Cool? Really, Pads, is my skin stitching itself back into place the source of your amusement?"

The retort died on Sirius's lips as the little boy in his arms sniffled, grasping his upper arm and hiding his face in the soft cashmere sweater; Remus's smile, a slight thing that had obviously taken an effort to appear, slipped away just as quick.

"Pup? What in Merlin's name is the matter?"

There was a mumbling reply, but, try as they might, even Remus's sharp ears could not decipher the words. When the tears did not subside even after several minutes, Sirius, growing apprehensive, looked at Remus helplessly. The latter, murmuring gentle words, sat Harry on his lap. The child squirmed, reaching for his own chair, but Remus held him firm, coaxing him to drink some water. As the cool drink worked his way through Harry's throat, raw and tired from crying so much, he only slightly relaxed, still holding himself rigid against Remus.

"Love, what's wrong?"

Without moving an inch, continuously staring at a point to the right of his plate, Harry answered with a question of his own, "Do you not love me, Moony?"

Remus started. "Wha- Of course I love you, I love you more than anything else in this whole wide world!"

"But you just- Padfoot said you don't like your scars and you didn't–" his voice wavered in a way that made Remus hold him just a little closer, a look of dread on his face that even the child, had he been looking at him, would have noticed, "–you didn't say no, you did not tell him he was wrong. Then does that – do you not like me as well?"

Harry choked on the last few words, face red from crying, and Remus spoke hurriedly, words seeming to burst from his mouth, "Harry, my love, I am so sorry. I did not mean that in the least. I love you very much, and I like everything about you, kid, be it your scar or your eyes or your hair or your voice or your smile – everything. You are very, very precious to me. Pinky promise, okay?" Harry raised his little finger hesitantly, halting to look at Remus eyes, his very tiny and slightly wobbly smile, before curling it around Remus's finger. Then, finally, he relaxed into his Moony's arms, and felt warm as a kiss was dropped into his hair.

From his place one chair over, Sirius's words floated over, "Remus has a lot to learn still, Harry. Remember when you didn't like your hair because it never sits how you want it to, but you still liked when my hair was all shaggy from being Padfoot for too long? That's kinda how his scars make him feel. He'll grow to love them, eh?"

Harry nodded timidly, quiet after the emotional turmoil of the past few minutes. Suddenly, an idea popped into his head and he brightened up, all worries forgotten – he knew how to solve this problem! At once, he jumped from Remus's arms, standing on his chair and looking at his godfathers, both of whom were looking at him with the same look of wonder at the sudden mood swing.

"I know just what to do!"

Smiling indulgently, the amber eyed wizard urged him to go on.

"It's really as Padfoot said, really. Oh, I mean 'actually'. Or maybe 'honestly'? Oh, whatever! What I mean is, just like how I liked my hair when you guys showed me it is just like Dad's and that Mom used to love it, though she pretended not to, we just need to show Moony which of his scars are our favourite. Then he just has to like them, doesn't he?" Both the members of his audience opened their mouth, but Harry was not done. "And then all we have to do is so very simple. I eat green beans even though I hate them so much 'cause I'm a growing boy and I need the greens, Miss Whit said. So, just like that, Remus will look at the scars every day 'cause he is a growing boy too and his scars are so awesome, especially the one on his cheek, it is pretty red just like a rose. Isn't that right, Padfoot? Don't you think that will work, don't you?"

Sirius tapped Harry's nose and replied with a big smile, "You, young man, are a genius! That is a Marauder's plan, that is! We can sure learn a thing or two from you. Now quickly finish your breakfast and then we'll get straight to work – the day's still young and we have a lot to do!"

As Harry happily tucked into his meal with the ease of someone who did not know they had just cause an existential crisis or two, the Animagus mumbled to his still dumbstruck husband, "Really, Moony, even the kid knows your self-loathing is a mound of blubbering blast-ended skrewts!"

A/N: I expect a future conversation going something along the lines of:

"A mound of blubbering blast-ended skrewts though, Padfoot?"

"Then scraped off the road and chopped and folded and rolled into a very sorry and, frankly, fairly disgusting imitation of those heavenly muggle ice creams."

"You're crazy, you know that?"

"..."

"..."

"Sooo, am I the only one craving some cold stone ice cream now?"

"Finally! Thought you'd never ask, babe."

Tell me what you think of it!