Most people don’t expect much from Peter. They see the nervous smile, the way he hovers half a step behind the others, how his voice gets lost beneath James’s boisterous laughter or Sirius’s easy swagger. In a group like the Marauders, it’s easy to overlook him.

You don’t.

You’re partnered with Peter in the greenhouses one afternoon, sleeves already rolled up as Professor Sprout sets you loose among trays of writhing, temperamental plants. The air is thick with humidity and the sharp scent of earth.

Peter freezes beside a particularly ugly specimen.

“That’s a Venomous Tentacula,” you say uncertainly. “I think.”

“It is,” Peter replies, suddenly confident. “But this one’s overwatered. See how the leaves curl inward?”

You blink. “Oh.”

He crouches down, careful and precise, fingers moving with practised ease as he adjusts the soil and murmurs a soothing charm. The plant settles almost immediately, tendrils relaxing.

You stare at him. “How did you know that?”

Peter shrugs, cheeks pink. “I- I read ahead. Herbology’s easier when you listen to what the plants are doing.”