Dean had no idea what was going on around him. All he knew was that he'd somehow made it to St. Mungo's by sheer force of will apparently. He had no idea that his wounded hand had saved his life. If it hadn't been burned so badly, so deeply, he'd have bled out during his escaped. As it was, that witch's setting his arm aflame had actually cauterized the ghastly wounds from his bone shards being ripped out like iron filings to a muggle magnet.
He had even less of an idea that there was a Hit Wizard outside, guarding the door as a precaution. He hadn't seen the prophet, and though he knew Seamus's mother was dead, he had no idea he was wanted for questioning. As a potential suspect. The thought would have choked him into shocked silence.
Instead he managed a very small and weary smile at Seamus's words. "Nasty head wound I left her with. I think." He didn't try moving anything more than his eyes in Seamus's direction. "So glad you're here. Went home. Couldn't find you. Came here."