Hermione’s eyes darkened as she narrowed her gaze at him; she had cast the protective layer wandlessly, every ounce of magic in her cells working to shelter her from harm as she was still crouched on the ground, refusing to abandon Draco’s body. Now, the ferociousness was reignited within her, a hot energy that longed to maim and to drain the lifeforce out of Shacklebolt. It was her chance; he was defenseless without his wand. But she knew this anger she felt would not be relieved by his instantaneous death alone. As much as Hermione wanted revenge, wanted to end Shacklebolt, there was something her heart wanted more in the moment, a stronger course of action that couldn’t wait. Something she knew would take her whole being, every ounce of magic coursing through her.