The last time Theo had been lifted and carried he'd been barely able to walk. Once he was able to make his way from the front door of Nott house to the very back, highest point of Nott house his father hadn't allowed his mother to carry him anymore. If he became tired he had to find ways to keep up with the family, keep going; he didn't remember the last time he'd been carried, but now that it was happening his exhaustion overcame his pride and he settled there, falling back into sleep.
He twitched a little as Greg cast, but he didn't even crack an eye open as Greg swore. He lay in bed seemingly asleep and apparently not minding the cold, but as Greg stopped to survey the situation it became apparent that his sleep wasn't as peaceful as it seemed. He was frowning, the look on his face that of someone knew they were trapped with one way out, and that one way being particularly unpleasant.
He shifted on the cold sheets, turning onto his side and bringing his knees up a little, taking up about a third of the bedspace he could have, and started mumbling to himself in his sleep, the words indistinct.