It would be a bit drab to admit that Harry had stayed there on the floor, staring at the ceiling until Hermione and Neville returned, dragging with them a boy with a face as red as his hair. But that's what he had done; settled back on the floor after the nice old lady had gone. He had no idea how long it'd been. He'd been in a sort of semi-conscious state, watching the world outside and listening to the gentle sound of Bethesda's breath by his ear when she'd slithered up to curl up on his shoulder. 