Title: Scattered

Author: Lady Dissent

Disclaimer: Not mine, just borrowing from the Great JKR.

A/N: Whoo, halfway done! This might be the first fic I ever finish (that's more than a oneshot). Sweet!

Reviews, comments, and intelligent critiques gladly accepted.

For rating, warnings, pairing, and other info, please see first chapter.

Chapter 9

A few weeks later, Bill was lying on the couch, watching some trashy soap opera with bad acting and whacked-out plotlines. He'd gotten off work early, and had no intention of moving to get or do anything once he'd settled down on the sofa. That was the only reason he hadn't changed the channel.

Really.

He heard the front door open, and made no effort to find out who it was.

"Bill, I'm home!" Pippa called from the hall. Bill heard the familiar clink of her purse on the counter, and the clack of her heels as she walked to the living room.

"So I noticed," he replied lazily, not looking away from the TV. A few seconds later, Pippa was sitting on the armrest, toying with Bill's hair. He looked up at her idly, a halfhearted smile on his face. She grinned back at him.

"So, how was your day?" she asked.

"Fine," he said, turning his attention back to the TV. "I got off early, so . . . " His sentence was interrupted by a yawn of monstrous proportions.

"Oh, is my poor Billy boy tired?" Pippa cooed, kicking off her stilettos and snuggling next to him on the couch.

"Don't call me that," Bill said absentmindedly, pulling her closer at the same time. "And yes, I'm tired."

"Do you want me to get dinner?" she asked, nuzzling him expectantly.

"I'm not all that hungry," Bill replied. Pippa brightened noticeably at this.

"So I don't have to eat anything?"

"Yes, you do," Bill said firmly, realizing his misstep at once. Pippa groaned, and rolled so her back was facing him.

"But I ate yesterday," she protested petulantly. "And the day before that, too. Twice."

"Good for you," Bill said, sitting up and stretching. "No reason to stop now."

With that, he got off the couch and headed towards the kitchen. Pippa stayed behind, and Bill knew she was preparing to throw a tantrum. He could hear her groaning and practically see her face contorting into a pout, even though she was in the other room.

"But I don't want to," she whined, sitting up and looking over the back of the couch at him.

"And I don't want to listen to your childish rants, but I do anyway," Bill retorted, pulling out the frying pan.

Pippa snorted and threw herself onto the couch again, muttering loudly about how stupid this was and how she was going to turn into a whale. Bill chuckled and asked,

"Pip, if you're a whale, then what am I?"

"A fathead," she snapped. "A big, stupid, British fathead. And a git. A limey, manky, socially handicapable git."

Bill rolled his eyes but left her alone. She was in a snit, and he knew not to bother her, lest he be mauled. He proceeded to make scrambled eggs, and was digging around for the bacon when Pippa stomped over to the counter and threw herself down in a huff.

"What are you making?" she demanded.

"Bacon and eggs," Bill replied.

"I don't want that," she spat.

Pippa had recently switched her tactics regarding food. She had mostly given up trying to refuse it entirely, and had now become the most finicky person Bill had ever met. Anything he made was the exact opposite of what she wanted.

"What do you want, then?" Bill asked patiently. He'd expected this. Pippa thought for a minute, and then said,

"Spaghetti."

"All right, I'll see if we have any pasta."

Bill put the bacon back, and began digging around the cupboards for a box of noodles. Pippa stayed where she was, head lazily resting on her hands, eyes following him as he moved around the kitchen. She was wearing a petulant pout, and Bill knew she was calculating her next move. Just as soon as he'd managed to recover a box of noodles, she said lazily,

"I want broccoli, too. Steamed, with little pieces of bacon in it like you made the other night."

"All right, I'll see what I can do," Bill said. So far, she wasn't being as bad as she could. He tried to be patient with her, figuring that if he yelled, she'd just yell back and they wouldn't get anywhere. "Do you want to help?"

"No."

It took Bill about half an hour to make both the spaghetti and the broccoli. Pippa did end up helping, but that was only with setting out the plates and silverware. She also got the drinks, and seemed pleased with herself about it. Bill decided not to point out that he had done most of the work, and sat next to her at the counter once everything was ready. They hardly ever ate at the dinning room table. Christmas had been the only time Bill could remember.

"Did you have a good day?" he asked casually as they ate. Pippa was doing more picking and fiddling than actual eating, but Bill was getting tired of badgering her about it.

"Yeah, I guess," she said, twirling a long piece of pasta around her fork idly. "The photographer kept calling me fat," she added pointedly before eating another bite.

"What do they know?" Bill said breezily. "I think you look lovely." Pippa arched her eyebrows and remained quiet for a few minutes before saying,

"He said it's probably why no one will hire me."

"That's insane," Bill said incredulously. "You're half the size of my sister, and she's nine."

"Yeah, well," Pippa began slowly. "I'm still not good enough."

"I think you are," Bill insisted. She smiled at him and shook her head.

"You're just saying that," she said bashfully.

"I don't say things that I don't mean," Bill said, but then added, "Except for that 'die with festering boils' thing I yelled at the TV earlier."

Pippa laughed.

She had a nice laugh. It wasn't the small, airy laugh that most girls he knew had, the kind that said "I'm stoo-pid". Her laugh was warm, pleasant, and bold. It could easily fill a room.

"I think you meant it," she said, eating with a little more vigor now.

"Maybe," Bill conceded. "It was pissing me off."

"Everything pisses you off, Bill," Pippa said.

"Not everything," Bill said, standing to clear away his empty plate. "You don't."

"Really?" Pippa asked. She, too, stood up and began to clear away the dishes, and was caught off guard by his comment.

"Really," Bill said. "Sure, you can be annoying and conceited sometimes, but I wouldn't have you any other way."

As she dumped her plate in the sink, Pippa said,

"You won't be having me at all, Billy boy."

"Don't be so sure," Bill said, moving behind her and wrapping her in a tight hug as he nuzzled her neck. "I have my ways."

"Oh really?" she said, leaning into him. They had become closer these past few weeks, and were no longer afraid of openly showing affection.

"Uh-huh," Bill whispered, nuzzling her again. She smiled and turned to face him.

"Are you going to tell me what these ways are?" she said playfully as she toyed with his hair.

"No, you'll have to find out for yourself," Bill said firmly. She smirked at him, and snuggled closer.

"Sounds like fun," she hissed, wrapping one arm around his neck and using the other one to play with his hair.

"It can be," Bill said, enjoying every minute of her cuddling. She was easily the most attractive woman he'd ever known, and he was ecstatic that she had feelings for him. "Would you like to see?"

Pippa didn't say anything, but the look she gave him in response could only be described as "smoldering." He grinned, and scooped her up, eliciting a small squeak, and walked with her to the living room.

The trashy soap opera was still on, but neither of them cared. They'd started kissing about halfway to the couch, and had yet to stop. Bill sat down, and Pippa climbed into his lap, still kissing every inch of him she could reach. Soon she abandoned that, and began to fiddle with the buttons on his shirt. She'd undone three of them before Bill noticed what she was doing.

Normally, this would have disturbed him, but tonight, he surprised himself by being positively okay with it. He wrapped his arms around her and leaned into a reclining position. Pippa straddled him, and whispered temptingly into his ear,

"Comfortable?"

"Yes, actually, I am," Bill replied calmly. Pippa's eyes flashed mischievously, and she started kissing him again, still unbuttoning his shirt.

They stayed that way for another ten minutes, exchanging sharp, witty retorts while trying to kiss the other's face off. Bill was fairly sure things would have escalated into something more if someone hadn't knocked on the door.

At the sound, Pippa's head snapped up, but after the initial shock passed, she looked back at Bill alluringly.

"Just leave it," she whispered silkily, kissing down his neck. He was tempted to, but when the knocking became louder and more insistent, he looked at her apologetically, kissed her one last time, and got up to answer the door. Pippa stayed back in a huff, glaring at him the entire time.

"Hello?" Bill said, opening the door. He was met with a dark suit, broad shoulders, and slicked-down black hair.

Mr. X.

Bill groaned inwardly, but forced himself to say, "Can I help you?"

"Good evening, Mister Weasley," Mr. X said, stepping past Bill and into the apartment without an invitation to do so. "I'm looking for your roommate, Miss Fitzpatrick. Perhaps you could tell me where she is?"

Bill glanced at the sofa, where Pippa had been seated a few seconds ago, only to find that she had left it and was now by his side.

"I'm right here, jerk ass," Pippa snapped rudely. "What do you want? I'm kind of busy right now."

Mr. X regarded her mildly, ignoring her profanity and tone.

"So you are," he said pleasantly. Pippa glared. "I was just here to check in, and remind you of a few things."

"I'm doing fine," she said, not meeting his eyes. "And I don't need reminding of anything, so you can leave now."

"Well, I can see that you're doing fine," Mr. X said in what he probably thought was a playful tone, nodding towards Bill, who flinched. He couldn't be sure if Mr. X was coming on to him or not, but either way, it was disturbing. The man continued, "But I can't leave just yet. You know that you're overdue, don't you?"

"Yeah," Pippa snapped fiercely, but added timidly, "Can we not talk about this now?" She looked shyly at Bill as she said this.

"Excuse me, I didn't catch that last bit," Mr. X said expectantly, even though everyone in the room knew he had.

Bill realized what was going on, and spoke up.

"She asked if you could leave," he said firmly, stepping between Mr. X and Pippa. "I'd appreciate it, too. You're breathing all my air."

"Mister Weasley," Mr. X began condescendingly, "What Miss Fitzpatrick and I are discussing has absolutely nothing to do with you, so I'd appreciate it if you would leave it to us. You are wasting my time."

"Pity," Bill shot back. "And here I was thinking that you were wasting mine."

Mr. X's eyes flashed at Bill's audacity, and he said deliberately,

"Now, Weasley, I understand that you are eager to continue wooing this lovely lady, though I daresay you'll fail, but what I have to tell her is far more important than your lustful rambles."

Pippa blanched at this, but Bill retorted,

"How would you know what we were doing? Were you watching?"

Mr. X didn't say anything, but Bill got that sickening feeling that he had been. It became awkwardly silent for a full minute.

"Well, Mr. X, I'm sorry to interrupt your entertainment for this evening," Bill said once he'd gotten his bearings back. "But I'm going to have to ask you to leave. Now."

"And you think that I'm going to listen to you?" Mr. X said, stepping closer, towering a good six inches over Bill. "I could break you in half."

"True, but I think you'll leave," Bill said calmly. He was used to intimidation tactics, thanks mostly to Charlie the Incredible Hulk, so standing up to this man wasn't very difficult. "I'll call the police if you don't."

"The police?" Mr. X snorted. "Oh, I'm trembling."

This scared Bill a little bit, having expected the man to grow pale like Charlie did when he threatened to tell Mom, but he didn't show it. He was contemplating his next move when Mr. X spoke again.

"Mister Weasley, I'll just take five minutes of your dear Pippa's time. Then you can have her back, to have and hold, safe and sound." Bill didn't say anything, so Mr. X turned to Pippa, who was glaring at him with fire in her eyes.

"Get out," she said, her voice low with anger.

"I just went over this with your roommate, darling," Mr. X said. "I'm not leaving." He reached out to her, but she smacked his hand away.

"Get the hell out of here," she began. "Or I'll call the police."

"And why would that frighten me away?" Mr. X said calmly.

"Because I'm a pretty young girl, and they'll believe anything I say about a mean old man like you," Pippa said slowly, and then sniffed, her whole demeanor changing. She pretended to cry, and said quietly, "I told him to stop, officer, really, but he just wouldn't listen." She broke down in pretend tears for a few seconds, and then snapped instantly back to her angry, articulate self and said, "You see, I can be very . . . convincing."

Mr. X cottoned on, and nodded.

"That you can," he hissed. Turning to leave, he nodded once at Bill, and called over his shoulder, "I'll be seeing you later."

The door closed behind him with a snap. Bill stayed quiet for a second, and then rushed to her side, asking,

"Are you all right, Pip?" She nodded limply, and told him,

"Yeah, just tired now."

"Do you want to go to bed?" Bill asked, wrapping his arm around her. He half expected her to brush him away, snap at him, or ignore him completely. What he didn't expect was for her to nod, and lean on him.

"Yeah."

Bill walked her to the bedroom, helping her up the stairs as she stumbled.

Something from the encounter with Mr. X had wholly upset her. She shook the entire time as Bill helped her into bed and lay down beside her. She curled up next to him. Not romantically, but as though she was clinging to him, an act that was completely out of character for her. Bill didn't know why Mr. X had distressed her so, or even what he had wanted to tell her so badly.

All he knew was that man was in trouble now.