For a young man who claimed to be devoted to changing his image, she couldn't help but wonder at his flippant attitude.
"It's the Prophet," she drawled. "Everyone knows that their rampant speculation is based more on boredom than fact. But why you feel the compulsion to respond with what you might actually think on the matter."
Merlin, he could have said anything. Anything but insinuate he'd been doing something illegal, anything but make it obvious that any of had gotten to him at all. And honestly, what had he been expecting? Hadn't he known this would come?
Watching him starkly change the subject a disturbing thought blossomed in her mind. He couldn't actually... really be.. Her eyes sharply narrowed as she resisted the urge to hold him down and pry his mind apart to read the truth for herself. If it were true (or possible), and Draco had some kind of... feeling for this girl, Bellatrix sincerely doubted he'd admit as much. She did little to hide the inklings of suspicion.
"We've met, but on a highly superficial level," she replied, her voice completely disinterested, the whole of attention keenly focused on whatever he might unintentionally reveal.
Bellatrix could feel it, smoldering inside her, the vain hope that he might surprise her, that he might redeem himself. Merlin's blood - her kingdom for someone who could do something right without being told what to do.