"Admit it? Confess it? And who made you the judge and jury, Skeeter?" Bellatrix asked, ire flaring, "whatever makes you think I've done anything worth confessing, you are sorely mistaken."
Bellatrix put up a good front. She was used to pretending not to care. For the first time in a long time, however, she felt uncertain of her footing -- Skeeter was making heavy references to things she definitely would prefer to keep private, and she wasn't sure yet what lengths she would go to to ensure that she did.
"Colour me flattered," she added vehemently, "that you're so obsessed with me, but I think I'm tired of it now. Either show me something good and explain yourself or find some smaller fry to experiment with."
Bellatrix was impatient, but lying. She had only just begun to notice Rita Skeeter in the last two minutes, and she wasn't tired of it at all -- intrigued, perhaps, but unwilling to put her hand in until she'd seen whether or not Rita was bluffing.