Ignoring his outburst and the grumbling, Rose moved right along. "A poem. The last entry. No, I didn't write it," she snapped before Scorpius had even had a chance to ask. Because undoubtedly he would. "Lorcan Scamander wrote it."
She didn't want to say any more than that. Not until he'd read it. Keeping her mouth closed was a challenge, but she prevailed, jaw clenching, her arms crossed over her chest lest she grab the nearest pillow (obviously someone else's) to chuck at him again, either because he wasn't finding and reading it fast enough or because she just had pent up violence she needed to unleash on someone. The why didn't matter, only that she didn't do it.