The household was in a quiet uproar. The hostess's gloves for her costume had somehow been mislaid, and the fête had already begun. It was trivial, really—from an outsider's perspective. But to someone whose entire world was that manor, it amounted to a national disaster. And, of all nights, it just had to be Halloween.

Hurriedly, the gloves were located rammed between the mattresses of a bed in a locked guest room that hadn't been used for ten years. That was the easy part. The headache came when they tried to think of a way to get the gloves into the ballroom where the partygoers mingled. The phantom serving hands were too stupid to follow complex orders, and for a House Elf to set foot in the place was unthinkable, especially tonight—night of all nights. All seemed lost.

Then, an epiphany.

Elfin children look a lot like humans. A lot of them were currently on hand, just a mile down the road at the old abandoned castle. And children are incredibly easy to coerce.

XXX

Which is how Fen came to be standing in the great room, wringing the lady's gloves in his hands: House Elves being at that time of the year and his damnable childhood. Now he was standing there in the sheltered alcove, faced with his own "easy part," "just-kill-me-now part" problem. The woman had been very simple to find, despite her unannounced costume change, her secret location, and her being with a man half her age in an—erm, compromising position?

Which brings us to the part where he wanted to die…

He rocked on his feet uneasily as the pair obviously didn't notice he was there. Easy mistake to make—he was rather small and unassuming. Most of his face was hidden under a thick tangle of dark curls. One horrified hazel eye could be seen through the mess as the two steadily lost their inhibitions.

He managed to utter a stuttered cough before his innocence was completely shattered. The pair heard him and disentangled slightly, but they only stopped their horrific spooning session when he stammered, "La-Lady Malfoy?"

Narcissa Malfoy detached from her friend so quickly it took the man a minute to notice she was gone from his arms. Folding her bare hands, she stared down at Fen enquiringly.

'A tad late to be feigning innocence, Milady,' a terribly quiet voice inside of him whispered. On the outside, his face blanched at the thought of actually saying that aloud. He shoved his inner voice down into the pit of his stomach. His courage had fled down there a long time ago; they could keep each other company while he tried to survive this mess. Clamping his mouth shut with willpower, he held out the gloves to the Malfoy woman as he watched the wheels in her head careen madly out of control.

Then the wheels screeched to a halt. She shoved the gloves back into his chest. "Never breathe a word about this to anyone," she ordered, a pointed look in her painted eyes. Fen stared, uncomprehending, and tried again to hand her the gloves. She pointed to the exit through the dark curtain. "Get out, and don't let me see your face again tonight."

"Your gloves," he tried.

"Keep them," she told him. "They're yours. Get out."

Fen's eyes popped open. He understood that. Without another word, he stuffed the long, imbedded crystal gloves into one broad gray sleeve and stepped out through the curtain.

He walked into a swirling world of elegant color, masked faces, and politely worded insults. The usual Malfoy house party. Gracefully weaving through the tangle of adults without thinking, he generally went without being noticed. When an eye did linger on him, he seemed a well-bred wizard boy, just a bit too young to be off at school. He was somewhat uncomfortable wearing an odd costume of gray silk that belonged on an ancient prince, but it did suit him and his unconsciously regal air. Now if only he would tie back those unruly curls, his parents could be proud of him.

He didn't have parents, he would kill himself before tying back his hair, and he was too lost in the train wreck that was his thoughts to realize he was behaving like nobility. If he'd known, he would have jumped off the nearest cliff.

Fortunately, there weren't any cliffs nearby and he wasn't noticing much of anything as he wandered towards the exit.

Behind him, an ethereal masked swan stepped out from behind the same curtain and floated out of the ballroom. Just a moment later, Narcissa Malfoy returned through the same door, a vision in silver and green crystal from her feminine dragon's mask to her slippered feet—except for her hands, which only had her wedding ring. She returned to her husband's side appearing rather miffed beneath her charming hostess exterior. "Nowhere to be found," she muttered behind a smile as Lucius Malfoy wrapped an arm around her waist. Only then did the man in the fox costume exit the curtained alcove.

No one noticed what had happened. Not even Fen, and he had reason to suspect such a maneuver. Perhaps if he had been less preoccupied. Or, perhaps not. Narcissa was a master at keeping her affairs a secret. She was the best. Her only possible competition was her husband Lucius. The two of them made their rounds through the room, adding to the conversations of their guests, gaining favors, and keeping alliances. His gloved hands held her bare ones tenderly. She gazed up into his eyes. They truly were made for each other. It would be a real show to see how innocent and hurt the one would act when the other's unfaithfulness was discovered.

Hypocrisy at its finest.

XXX

As all of this happened, Fen leaned against one wall, becoming part of the scenery. He waited for the Malfoys to call attention for the traditional toast before slipping through the hidden servants' door unnoticed. He bolted it shut behind him and promptly dropped to the floor in a jumble of limbs and a hung head.

"Oh, come now Fen, mingling with the humans couldn'a been that bad," an oh-so-reasonable female voice said. He could hear the raised eyebrow in that sentence. He looked at her through the curtain of his hair out of the corner of his eye. The elfin girl was a vision in blue silk—she seemed perfectly comfortable wearing it too, damn her—and, yes, her eyebrow was in the upright position.

"Yes, it could, Proserpine," he sighed in a not-quite retort. He never spoke back. He pulled the gloves from his sleeve and chucked them at the opposite wall.

Proserpine stared at the little crystals sewn on them that glittered in the dim light. "You were to give Lady Malfoy's gloves to her Ladyship," she said, turning "Ladyship" into a vulgar word. "What went wrong? Didn't you find her Ladyship?"

"I found Lady Malfoy with one of…of her friends," Fen reported glumly. Proserpine guessed what he meant by "friend" and made a disgusted face. He banged his head back into the wall. "The Lady paid me to keep me quiet and…she gave me the gloves."

"Lady Malfoy gave…" Proserpine stumbled backwards and hit a wall herself, the picture of shock. Giving an Elf, any Elf, human clothes was unthinkable. Human were idiots. Free a House Elf by giving her clothes—insult to injury. Give clothes as a present—had they gone completely mad? Bribe an Elf with clothes..."Oh hell," she snarled. She put her head in her hands and began to pace across the servants' hallway. In looks, she was a petite teenage witch, but her worried expression aged her significantly, making her seem more her true age. Proserpine—or Little Imp, as she was usually called—was in her late thirties. Not that it meant much. Her mum was three hundred and thinking about having another kid. She tugged on one of the long, horse-like ears that poked out of her hair as she turned about face yet again. Out of her muttering mouth came a wild train of thoughts that would supposedly solve this mess. None of her ideas sounded too good.

"Proserpine?"

She stopped and looked at Fen. Oh, and she thought she looked worse for the wear. If looks were true, he'd just crawled out of the grave and was about to get shoved back in. The mop of curls fell away from his eyes, and she could see a pleading look in them. Tell me everything will be all right. She wished she could. It certainly was the easy way out, but he would hate her when he found she had lied to him. Oh, why did that awful woman have to give Fen gloves to keep him quiet? What had happened to giving money and favors and death threats?

She closed her eyes. Fen was a lot younger than she, little more than a baby. The best trick to get a young one's mind off of something was to distract it with something else. And she'd get her mind off of the gloves by getting Fen's mind off them—if that made any sense.

She shook her head and opened her mouth. "No, no. Fen, you don't worry about it tonight. It's Halloweeny. Time for fun, play, frolic!" She took the gloves and stuffed them under her dress where no one would see, and then picked up Fen. He was such a small Elf. "Down to Party, yes?"

And before he could say a word, she ran him down to the Elfin fête in the dungeon of the abandoned castle a mile down the way.

XXX

From there it was a bit of a task to get three butterbeers in him and then to push him into a frenzied chain dance. Proserpine watched the two elfin women on either side of him keep their grip on his hands and pull him along through the intricate loops. His feet hadn't touched the ground for two minutes.

She shuffled around the side of the Dungeon, avoiding the dancers that whipped around, feet pounding the flagstones to the beat of the frantic music. Elfin songs were fast. They had to be, to fit a whole year's worth in between one sunset and dawn. Halloween was too short.

Unfortunately, she was so preoccupied with keeping an eye on the dancers that she didn't notice the wrinkly House Elf until she'd stepped on him. Personally, she would have preferred to step on a nest of Cornish pixies.

Horrified, she tried stammering an apology, but the House Elf began swearing at her before she could get a word in. Thankfully none of the curses he rattled off were magic, or she'd be dead in some rather uncomfortable ways. Most of the death threats involved him strangling her with the tie he wore around his neck. He kept threatening odd Elves as he shuffled away, forgetting almost immediately what had made him so worked up in the first place.

And that was her proof about human clothes. She found herself touching her costume, glad it was only odds and ends magicked to look like a dress. Elves were not meant to wear clothes. They addled your brain and wasted you away until you curled up and died hundreds of years before you were due.

As Proserpine stared at the mad House Elf, a youth named Hades took this as his chance. With a screech, she found herself dancing with an amorous elfin man. He had a death grip on her arms, and with the other dancers they were so pressed for space it was either get real close or get real trampled. "Bad Elf, bad!" she hissed and he grinned. He twirled her around when she tried kicking, so she got someone else on accident.

Six songs went by before her mother noticed and dragged away young Hades by his ear, much to everyone's amusement and Proserpine's relief. Though he had been kind of cute…

Fen. Lady Malfoy. The gloves. Oh hell!

Proserpine finally managed to make her way to the Chair of Honor, where the oldest of the Elfin sat and watched the rest. The young girl built up her courage before kneeling by a chair arm. He glanced down at her kindly, and she managed to whisper, "Horrible thing has happened, Mista' Odin."

She was offered his long droopy ear, and she murmured into it as he closed his eyes and frowned sadly. Then she was done, and Odin began speaking in her ear. She didn't like what she heard. "Odin thinks Little Fen will face much hardship, given human clothes," he said. "Too young. This, Odin thinks, is to be Little Fen's last Halloweeny. Little Fen must fit hundreds of Halloweenys into one night. You, Little Prose, help Little Fen. Don't tell."

Proserpine was sad and thought about the mad House Elf. "If Fen's here, next Halloweeny," she began.

"Old Odin will sit with Little Fen," Odin finished. She looked up at him gratefully. Then she ran to dance with Fen. She kept him dancing for hours, and when his feet gave out, she sat him down in the best spot, making sure he got the richest cakes and the least diluted Firewhiskey. It was stuff that he shouldn't have deserved for hundreds of years, but whenever someone thought to complain, they looked to Old Odin, who shook his head, and they left it alone. Some of them probably guessed what was going on. Humans thought Elves spoke stupid, but their minds worked just fine. And those who guessed about Fen had minds that worked well enough to keep their mouths shut.

Proserpine kept her eye on the time at all times. Halloween was wasting away. Soon, she grabbed up a bowl of clotted cream, some round berries, and Fen and sat them all down before a storyteller. The man quickly told his audience an ancient elfin epic—after he had a rant about how that mean Mista' Tolkien stole the story and messed everything up. Hairy feet and marrying humans, indeed! Everyone booed appropriately and then yelled for him to get on with it already.

He got on with it. Then he ended it, and Proserpine hauled Fen back onto the dance floor for the best songs that were saved for last.

The House Elves trickled out in small groups as the night wore on closer to dawn. They stayed as long as they could, of course, but they had to get back to their Masters' homes in time to make breakfast—traveling on foot. Everyone left eventually. Even Old Odin had to leave, after a few quick whispers of thanks and advice to the oldest Malfoy House Elf. The Malfoys' servants were the lucky House Elves when it came to parties. They hosted the fêtes in this dungeon near the Malfoy manor most often, so they were able to start celebrating first and stop last. It made up somewhat for the unluck of being the Malfoys' servants.

But even they had to leave eventually.

Proserpine and Fen were soon the only ones left. She knew no one would mind, what with Mista' Odin ordering her to make sure Fen had as much fun as possible. Fen was too young and too giddy drunk on fun (among other things) to really notice. So the two danced in the empty, silent dungeon. One kept the other, smaller one dancing until a short time before dawn. Then Fen tripped and fell, and he didn't bother getting up again. Instead, he fell asleep right there on the flagstones. His keeper for the night was only too glad to collapse down next to him. It was hard work, making somebody happy for so long. She panted, grateful for the cool stone beneath her, and turned to study Fen. She had it in her mind to memorize the way he looked on All Hallows Eve. She'd never get another chance, what with Lady Malfoy giving Fen those gloves. Quietly, she cursed all the Malfoys, down to the last ancestor. Lucky thing the family kept such good track of their lineage or she'd never have managed it.

She turned her eyes on Fen. He was so terribly small. Even his ears. You had to hunt through that hair to find them. She didn't know why he was so tiny. She used to ask the adults when she was younger. They had told her to "run 'long now"—meaning it was a bad reason and they didn't want her to know. Proserpine sighed. She had asked a lot about Fen over the years, and she'd been told to run 'long now plenty. He was such a mystery child. Why was he the only Elf she knew with black hair? Why was he so frightfully timid? Why had he shown up in the Malfoy household twelve years ago?

Fen shivered in his sleep.

She turned and looked at him. He wasn't shaking because he was cold. That was another run along now question. Why did Fen always have nightmares? She was pondering that as her own exhaustion took over. They had been the last ones dancing or even in the Dungeon for an hour; she deserved to be tired. She fell asleep on the stone moments before dawn.

There were no rays of sunshine in the underground place to herald the sun's rise, but the exact moment was easy to tell anyway. All one had to do was watch the sleeping Proserpine. Dawn came, then—bam! All at once, her voluminous blonde hair disappeared into her head, leaving only her eyebrows and lashes. As her dress fell apart into pieces of silk cloth, she began to shrink. Her skin, now a dark fleshy pink, became wrinkled, especially in her face. Her closed eyes bulged, her muscle dwindled away, her joints knobbed, and her bones shrank. This was no neat transfiguration. It was a blessing she was already unconscious. Fortunately, it was soon over, and the little House Elf settled down to sleep in a nest of blue silk, hugging two bejeweled green gloves. Little Fen—or Dobbin, as they usually called him—slept close by.

XXX

That is the big Elfin secret. Once a year, from sunset to dawn on All Hallows Eve, it happens. House Elves grow, becoming what legend calls "High Elves" and what they just call "Tall." They do so every year—unless they are given human clothes. Then they stay stunted and deformed forever. Which is why any wrinkly, bald House Elf you might see on Halloween night will be so ornery—because he's been given clothes and "freed." He'll never be "Tall" again.

Hardly the freedom humans celebrate so much.

And it was humans who were responsible for this spell placed on the Elves. But the humans have long forgotten everything about their involvement in the ancient curse. Even the Elves have forgotten most of it.

But forgetting about it didn't stop poor Little Fen—Dobbin—from getting those gloves. It didn't help his circumstances either. Unlike all other House Elves freed before him, his Mistress had accidentally given him clothes while he was "Tall." His transformation days were over. At the moment, that didn't mean much more than one Hell of a night for him, and one Hell of a hangover when he woke up. Later, he would come to realize how important his being freed on All Hallows Eve would be, but for now he dreamt.

…whoa. That turned out odd. That's what happens, I guess, when you pull 4 a.m.-ers 3 nights the same week. Ooh, looky. 4:03 a.m. Gonna stop writing now. Would do more, but a large fly has decided to start buzzing around my head. Hmm, why aren't I tired?

Oh, for reference, this story starts All Hallows Eve of Harry's 3rd year. …really must reread that 3rd book...again. Hmm.