Peter could not deny that he was the odd man out. It was what he had feared even as he'd packed his bags for this "fun" weekend of Muggle-style camping. And it had been fun, until the fire had died down and James and Lily had slipped into Lily's father's tent with a bashful goodnight and Remus and Sirius had likewise slipped away into the woods without even so much as a word. Now here he was, the lone watchman of a dying fire, trying not to hear the rustling from Lily's tent, trying not to feel his heart squeezing with loneliness.