Fortunately the bed was large enough to accommodate the both of them without Seamus moving very much. He doubted whether he had the energy, because the constant shivering was draining what remained of his adrenaline surge. As Susan lay down beside him, he felt the warmth from her skin leaching into his own and moaned softly. His eyes fluttered closed and he twisted the fingers of his free hand into the covers at his side. He wanted so badly just to relax against her; to feel his body give way to the exhaustion working its magic on the fear. Possibly even mull over Susan's seemingly comfortable use of we when referring to the future, however immediate.
It was what he wanted, and there was no denying that. He'd all but told Susan so the last time they'd spoken over the journals. Which was the last time they'd spoken, full stop. Later, when he was feeling brave and more like himself, he would joke that he'd do it all again just to convince Susan to give him another chance. Right now, he felt rather like a child and lacked the good grace to be embarrassed. Some part of him vaguely recognized how he must look - reduced to a quivering mess by irrational fears, but they hadn't been there. They hadn't seen the rotted teeth or the murderous look in demonic eyes. They hadn't heard the screams. Was this what it had been like for Harry, with the dementors? Seamus couldn't even imagine.
Just the thought sent another violent spasm through his muscles, though it didn't stop this time. Seamus convulsed, eyes rolling back, mouth falling open on a stunted sound of surprise. His hand jerked out of Susan's and both arms folded in towards his chest. Body rigid, his thoughts spiraled from I'm dying to nothing at all.