He must have fallen asleep (though passing out seemed much more likely), because the next time he opened his eyes, the lighting in the tower had shifted with the movement of the sun, and he wasn’t alone. There was a gentle hand shaking his shoulder, and he struggled to peer blearily over his shoulder, his glasses (which he hadn’t removed) catching painfully at his nose. The hand belonged to a concerned Hermione, and over her shoulder he spied a frightened looking Ron.