Illyria's snarls echoed throughout the clearing as Hermione finally drew in a breath and shakily rose to her feet - left hand already reaching for her sword. Her wolf-dog - because, honestly, there was no way that Illyria's father wasn't a wolf with the way that she grew so large and the aggression that she was clearly displaying - had her jaws clenched firmly around Draco's sword arm, shaking it back and forth until the sword was dropped from his hand. Her claws were swiping at his face as the young lord screamed and cried for mercy.