Surreal- that was the only word that described the experiences of all of Dumbledore's Army as they attempted to fight off the wave of death eaters that were all of a sudden upon them. More than that, it was the only word that described what Dean Thomas was currently witnessing. Seamus lay on the floor of the Great Hall, only a few feet away from Dean himself, unmoving. Bellatrix Lestrange, known to Dean by her pictures in the Daily Prophet, was hovering over him, wand still pointed down at his body. She gave him a swift kick to the ribs, and when that failed to get a reaction of any sort out of him, she threw her head back and cackled, apparently reveling in the chaos of the final battle, and went to find a new victim. Dean was frozen with horror until Dolohov attempted to hit him with a curse he'd never seen before- a jet of violent purple magic shooting from the tip of his wand, just barely missing the shoulder of his robes. All of the emotions that were coursing through him were channeled into that one Protego, and it was powerful enough to knock the offending death eater square on his arse. Now that he was unencumbered by death eaters, he ran over to Seamus who was still lying there, praying to every deity he knew of, muggle and wizard.
"No, no, no, please don't be dead! We weren't supposed to die today! None of us were! You told me we'd be fine!" Seamus was flat on his back, eyes closed, bloody face puffy and bruised from the battle. Despite the blood and bruises, Dean could still see the handsome face of his best friend. He shook, slapped, and pinched every part of Seamus he could get his hands on, trying desperately to wake him. He became vaguely aware that a few people- namely Neville, Luna and Harry- had come to battle behind him, defending him from the sudden onslaught of jinxes, hexes, and curses that were being thrown at the apparent weak link. Soon, Luna and Neville drifted away to help where they were more urgently needed, but Harry stayed and helped Dean pull Seamus into a safe, secluded corner. Harry was the only other person (aside from Ginny, of course) who knew of Dean's true feelings for the dead boy. Dean's feelings went above and beyond friendship. There was a connection that he was sure of, but he didn't know if the other boy felt the same.
Dean found himself cradling the motionless boy's head, with tears running down his face, still hopelessly trying to get Seamus to open his eyes. He needed the one of a kind icy blues on his best friend to flutter open. He needed his thick Irish accent to proclaim "I'm only joking with ya." Most of all, he needed Seamus to support him, emotionally and physically, through the rest of the battle. It never happened though. As Dean gave Seamus one last hug, knowing it would be the last time he ever saw him, he felt something crinkle in the pocket of his robes. He pulled out a crumpled, but otherwise still perfectly intact piece of parchment that had the words IN CASE written on the front in Seamus's untidy scrawl. He opened it, and read the 7 words that made his heart simultaneously jump and sink even lower. DEAN- I felt it too. Love, Seamus