"No, Harry. I can't let you go, I'm sorry. If they take her prisoner, we will do everything we can to get her back alive, but right now we have to leave. Now. We can't risk losing you for her," Shacklebolt said again, cruelly, but Merlin-damnit, he was right, practically speaking. There was no way that trying to get Hermione out was worth risking Potter's life, in the grand scheme of the war. But Draco didn't care about the damned war, he cared about her and she was still fucking in there. Shacklebolt looked at the three boys, his face grave and taut and Draco shook Potter's hand off his arm and stepped forward, wand pointed down at the ground by his side instead of at Shacklebolt, despite the twitching and itching urge to raise it. Threats wouldn't work with this man.