Seamus barely heard the words past his sobbing. He gripped the side of the table in a white-knuckled grip in an effort to keep himself upright under the weight of crushing grief. He'd survived the war, and he'd been glad for it. But he would gladly suffer through decade more of the pain he'd endured that last year at Hogwarts just to have his mother back.
Just to have Dean here to comfort him.
Strangely, it was that thought that made Seamus tamp down on his pain and swallow back his tears. He reached out a shaking hand and pressed it to his mother's cold forehead. "Codladh sámh," he murmured, voice thick, before pushing away from the table with more effort than it should have taken. He head felt heavy and stuffed as he wiped his face on the sleeve of his jacket, but when he looked at the morgue worker, his gaze was steady. "What happened to her?"