Bellatrix slammed her book shut, her quill still inside to mark her place. She hated Rookwood so much. She'd never been particularly fond of him, there had always been small things about him that irked her, but she dealt with those annoyances for quite a few years without wanting to make him scream in complete agony. She could even mostly ignore him after she'd realized she was starting to have feelings for Rodolphus, because she was a Black, and therefore always got what she wanted. Rookwood just... wasn't important enough to worry about.
She wasn't sure just when she began to loathe him, but after tonight she held nothing but contempt for him. How dare anyone think they could talk to her that way, suggest such things about her? She threw open her trunk to drop her book inside, then noticed something shining in the torch light; the dagger she'd ordered for her costume peeking from under some books and clothes. Bellatrix let the blank book fall on top of her things and, without really thinking about it, grabbed the dagger. She slipped it under her robe, inside the waistband of her skirt, before making her way out of the girls' dorms and to the common room.