Disclaimer: I am not yet ready to admit the fact that I have never – and never will - own Harry Potter, so I'm leaving the actual disclaimer part out.

It's been a while since I've written anything – let alone fanfiction – so I decided to take up a small challenge over at the HPFC forum. Obviously, after 12 months of Writing-Hiatus, I'm a bit rusty. Bear with me! Nevertheless, I hope you enjoy.

For silent doubt's Song of the Week Mini-Competion on HPFC.

Song: It Will Rain by Bruno Mars
Prompts: malevolent, bounty, lovesick
Pairing: Luna/Dean [Trio Era]

cause there'll be no sunlight
if I lose you

-:-

It was hard to believe that someone with a body so thin and hair so matted could be this... annoying.

Weren't traumatic experiences supposed to hushen them up?

"It's the puffniffers," Luna told him firmly, her wide eyes framed with eyelashes impossibly light and nearly invisible. "There were a couple here when I arrived, but now they're everywhere. They breed like crazy! I heard - "

Dean, who had been bombarded with Luna's stories of the mythical creatures ever since he had stepped into Malfoy's Manor, and had no intentions of listening to their mating habits, interrupted her.

"Luna, that's really - pleasant - and all, but do you mind if you – you know – shut up for a couple of seconds?"

She blinked and stared abruptly at a spot above his shoulder, his words unheard.

"What are y-" Dean started, but was broken off by Luna's frantic hand movements to silence him.

She pressed a pale finger to her cracked lips, and when she withdrew it, the tip was smeared with blood.

"Sh-sh-sh. There's one of them. On your shoulder."

"One of what?" He looked at the indicated shoulder, irritation swelling inside of him.

Luna ignored him. "Dean, that's amazing." She addressed his shoulder rather than his face. "It took them weeks to get used to me."

"Strange," Dean commented. "I thought air particles were impartial."

The blonde-haired girl diverted her eyes from Dean's shoulder, and gazed up at him with an awe-struck expression. "Not air, Dean. Puffniffers. They're on your shoulder!"

She held out a trembling hand, and then whispered, "May I?"

Dean shrugged, and then immediately looked at his shoulder, imagining a puffniffer – whatever the hell they looked liked – bouncing up in down in sync.

Slowly, she rested her hand where the puffniffer would be. Her palm was alarmingly warm, radiating heat, as her fingertips lightly brushed against his shoulder.

"They think you smell good," Luna said dreamily, and added, "like squashed dog feeces on the bottom of a shoe, or decaying flesh."

Dean immediately jumped back and Luna's hand slipped away. "What?"

Luna giggled, and began to explain the puffniffer's smell preferences.

Dean, who hadn't really been listening to Luna's ramblings in the first place, was practically deaf at this point.

Looking around to make sure no one was looking, he put his own hand where Luna's had been. Something tingled - but whether it was the puffniffer, or the faintest vestiges of pale fingers, he couldn't say.

Reviews and constructive criticism are always welcome!