Presley was startled by his reaction to her innocent question. There was no reason why he shouldn't have been there, right? But now he seemed so mad. She took an involuntary step back. This was the kind of glare that reminded her of her uncle when he was angry. He wasn't very kind once he got to this point in his anger. But usually it was a little more gradual than this. "Sorry," she said in a very small voice.

Her eyes squeezed shut briefly. But then snapped open defiantly. She was Presley Black. He had no right to intimidate her because she'd asked a valid question. She wouldn't allow herself to be intimidated. If that meant she lost the game, so be it. Presley wasn't taking anybodies bullying this year. After standing up to her father the way she had, nobody was going to be allowed to treat her this way.

"I apologize if me question angered you," she said in a controlled polite voice. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have homework to finish up." She stared him dead in the eye, doing her best to let him know that he didn't frighten her.

Though truth be told, he did, at this moment. Because his anger was so sudden and unexpected. She was startled and frightened. And anybody who knew her well would see it in her eyes, masked behind the glint of furious/bold/proud. So what if she lost the game. She was Presley Black and she was noble. And as William Shakespeare had said once true nobility was exempt from fear. Nobody, not even Milton Shaklebolt scared her.