AN: This was written for round four of QL. The fairy tale round and the one I had to incorporate was "The Red Shoes," along with the prompts, Bleeding, No letter j and Underhanded.

I'm not at all sure how well this turn out, but I guess we'll see.

Word count: 1,281

Cursed Shoes

She stared at the shoes sitting in the front of her closest, the bright red glittering against the light in her room. A smile appeared on her lips as she stared at them. She absolutely adored those shoes and couldn't wait to wear them.

A small part of her questioned where her mother bought them, because she didn't remember seeing them in any store in Diagon Alley. She pushed the thoughts away, leaving it to the fact that her mother simply kept her away from the shoes.

To keep the surprise.

Her mother was planning a ball that was set to occur a week from today. She'd sat around for the past month, watching as her mother made all the plans; writing letters and answering fire calls settling all the finer details.

There was one thing she knew for sure; it was going to be a magical night.

A knock on her door pulled the girl from her thoughts. She quickly turned her head as the door opened and her mother poked her head into the room.

"It's time for bed," her mother told her. "You have a big day tomorrow."

She sighed. She was way too excited to go to bed. Tomorrow she would be trying on her ball gown for any final tailoring it may need. But her mother was right, if she didn't go to bed, she would definitely be grumpy in the morning.

"Okay, mother," she replied as she stood up from the chair she was sitting on in the corner of her room next to her bookshelf.

She made her way towards the chair on the other side of her room that sat in front of her vanity mirror. Her mother quietly slipped into her room to stand behind her.

Her mother reached around her to grab her hairbrush before gently brushing out the tangles in her hair. "You'll have an early start in the morning with your last minute fitting while I'll have errands to run for most of the morning."

She glanced over her shoulder for a moment. "How long do you suspect you'll be?"

"Probably until mid afternoon," her mother responded.

She turned her attention back towards the mirror as she watched her mother French braid her hair. Since she was five and her hair was long enough to braid, her mother always French braided it before she went to bed. It had quickly become a nighttime ritual for them.

"There," her mother said, securing the end of the braid with a hair tie.

She glanced in the mirror and smiled. "Thanks mom."

Her mother patted her shoulders. "Now, time for bed."

She stood on a step stool in front of three mirrors along the wall in the living room. The material of dress was silky against her skin and it sparkled under the lights of the room – exactly like the shoes that were sitting upstairs in her closet.

"I'm going to need to compare the length of the dress to the size of the heels you're going to be wearing," the tailor spoke, pulling her from her thoughts.

She easily recited a wandless spell and her shoes appeared on the floor next to her. She quickly slipped her feet into them at the tailor's request.

After a few more moments of standing there and watching the tailor work, it was finished.

"There," the tailor spoke. "All done.

She looked at herself in the mirror and a huge smile spread across her face. The dress was absolutely gorgeous and she felt like a princess standing there in front of the mirror. She couldn't imagine how she'd feel when the ball came next week.

She was scared. She didn't know what to do. What in the hell was she supposed to do? The shoes wouldn't come off her feet no matter how many times she'd tried to pull them off. She'd tried everything she could think of to try and remove the shoes from her feet. To no avail.

Her feet had been dancing uncontrollably for hours now and she had no idea when or if they'd ever stop. The tailor had long left and her mother wouldn't be home for some time now and she didn't know when her father would be home from work.

She called out for help and a few moments and a pop later, Daisy stood in front of her.

"Mistress called for Daisy," the tiny elf said, looking up at her.

"I'm not sure what to do," she told the elf, panic clear in her voice and becoming more pronounced by each passing moment. "The shoes...they'll – I don't even know."

"Calm down," the elf told her. "Daisy will alert mistress' parents."

She watched as the house elf disappeared as quickly as she had appeared. She tried to calm her shaky breathing, but to no avail. She probably wouldn't be able to calm down until she got to the bottom of what was making the shoes do this.

She was confused and scared.

She'd tried the shoes on the day her mother had brought them home and they had come right off afterwards. And she'd worn them a few more times after that, excitement bubbling in her chest as she waltzed around her room in them.

They'd never once done anything like this.

She wished her mom was home. Or even her dad. She hoped Daisy would hurry up and do whatever it was house elves did.

She needed answers. She needed the comfort her parents could give her. But most importantly, she needed the shoes to come off.

She sighed in relief when finally; finally the shoes were able to come off. She let out a huge breath and quickly reached over and started rubbing feeling back into her feet. She grimaced when she glanced at her toes and saw that some of the nails and surrounding skin were bleeding. She quickly averted her head, not wanting to see the sight anymore.

"There," her father said, waving his wand. "All better."

She slowly turned her head back towards the feet. They were fully healed, no blood or ruined skin in sight. Although her feet were still sore from what had happened for hours that day.

"What happened?" she questioned, looking up at her father.

"We're not sure right now, sweetie," her father told her in a soothing voice. "But I swear to you, we'll figure it out."

She stared at her father and a small smile appeared on her lips. Though, it didn't quite reach her eyes like most of her smiles did.

"I would like to know what in the hell happened to those shoes," she heard her mother's voice rising from the next room. "This is one of the most devious things I've ever seen happen in my days. How dare they come into my home and do this to my daughter."

"It had to have been the tailor, right?" she asked her dad. Because the shoes were fine until after the tailor came and left.

"Like I said, we're going to get to the bottom of this," her father repeated, determination clear in her voice.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned into him. She nodded against his chest because she believed in her father. She knew that he would find the truth, because he always did. He never let her down.

Her eyes fell on the shoes and she quickly kicked them away. She didn't want to see them at the moment and remember how much fear and pain they had caused her today. She probably wouldn't even want to wear heels again for the rest of her life.