Author's note: it took longer than expected, but here is the first chapter! I used Once Upon A Time last names because I quite like them. I believe Grimhilde is the canon name for the Evil Queen, but I could be wrong. Let me know what you think!

Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs – Chapter 1

Snow "White" Blanchard loved her garden.

The sixteen-year-old had coveted the little greenhouse at DSNEY High School since she began attending. It was little more than a glass shack with overgrown weeds and badly-kept flora, but she easily fixed that. After years of picking up after her stepmother, the greenhouse was easier than baking an apple pie.

Snow kneeled over a potted petunia, her silky, black hair curling behind her ears. One day, she would let it grow long again, like it was when her father was alive and before her stepmother, Grimhilde, came to live with them. The townhouse near Walterelias' buzzing downtown used to shine brighter then. At least, it did in her memory.

The junior pressed her hands against the dirt and felt the texture. She clucked her tongue. Too dry. She would have to remind Bambi and Faline that, while they were unsupervised during their early morning shift at the greenhouse, it didn't mean they could slack off. But they were only freshman. She couldn't expect perfection.

"Snow!" Ella called. "Snow, where are you?" Snow White heard footsteps but didn't look up from her work. The water can shook from the weight of the water, dripping onto Snow's high-waist blue jeans. They were already coated in a thin layer of dirt. Thank goodness I always have a spare pair in my locker.

"Oh, there you are! I shouldn't be surprised," Ella said with a giggle.

Snow put the water can down and glanced behind her. She and Ella had been friends since freshman year when they discovered they excelled in home economics. That, and their stepmothers had … similar interests.

"Hi Ella. What's up?"

Ella, nicknamed Cinderella by her stepsisters Drizella and Anastasia – seniors at DSNEY (unfortunately) – leaned against the greenhouse entrance. Her khakis were dusted in flour from home economics and her strawberry blonde hair was pulled back in a low ponytail.

"I just wanted to let you know lunch break is going to be over in ten minutes. Have you eaten anything yet?"

Snow furrowed her brow. Her stepmother's nagging voice interrupted her thoughts. Don't frown, Snow White. It will give you more wrinkles than you already have. Snow shook her head.

"No, I seem to have forgotten. Again," she added with a sheepish grin.

Ella shook her head with a smile. "I'll bring you something. We can't have you dozing off in English class," she teased. Ella turned on the heel of her black flats and skipped off.

Snow White leaned forward again and picked the plant off the ground. She placed it back on its properly-labeled shelf then put away the spade and bag of soil. Aurora would check on the plants before heading home, giving Snow the chance to go to the library again. The weight of the newspaper articles sagged in her backpack by the door.

A part of Snow never truly believed her father died from a simple car accident. Her father was ever the cautious driver, especially at night. Ten years ago, when the police came to the door, Officer Huntsman made it clear that it was an accident that could have happened to anyone. Slippery roads from an early frost and moonlight played tricks on the mind. Perhaps a deer was crossing the road? They would never know.

Well, that's what they said at least.

Snow wanted to believe the best in people. Her mother cultivated that in her before her untimely meeting with death thanks to breast cancer. Snow was only four at the time, but she had one distinct memory of her mother – soft, doughy arms holding her as a calm, sweet voice whispered in her ear. Every time Stepmother started to yell, or chastise, or complain, or order, Snow went to that safe place and hunkered down until she could get away.

But now, Snow wasn't so sure she would believe there was good in Grimhilde.

Snow White convinced the library to let her take home the articles from the week of her father's death. Belle, the library assistant, was very kind about the matter.

"I understand something about losing a parent," she said cryptically. Snow didn't have time to pry.

She kept the articles hidden in her backpack, in case Grimhilde got the urge to snoop through her things (again). There wasn't much to go on in the paper following the accident. It was written up as a "tragic accident involving a pillar of the community." Within a day, the news was forgotten. Except for one tiny article in the weekend edition.

Snow was too young at the time to understand what happened to her father's assets when he died. She knew there was an amount set aside for her post-secondary education, should she choose to go – but the rest was a mystery. She assumed Grimhilde had a decent amount of money to support herself, considering the townhouse was always furnished with the latest styles, something a mere make-up line could not support. Snow knew it was impolite to ask about finances, especially to Grimhilde, so she never asked, but the article piqued her curiosity.

In the article, it mentioned funeral arrangements for Mr. Clark Blanchard, but it also touched on his widow. Grimhilde Regina Blanchard inherited her deceased husband's entire estate upon his death. She also had control over Snow's allowance until she turned eighteen. Then, the money would be Snow's to control.

That made Snow's stomach turn. Would the allotment have been the same if Clark hadn't died in an accident? That was a question Snow had no answer to, but she suspected someone at the library would know. She didn't want to start asking too many questions, but the more she thought on the situation, the more distressed it made Snow.

The young lady smoothed her blue tank top. The lace around the collar hadn't gotten dirty, thank goodness. Her apple necklace brushed against her neck. Inside lay a picture of her mother and father – their wedding picture, to be precise. She managed to save it before Grimhilde could toss it out, along with all her parents' other items. According to Grimhilde, the goodwill could use her mother's items more than Snow could.

She shook her head. It didn't matter. They were just trinkets. Snow had kept the pictures and it was those pictures that kept her from getting swallowed up by the tyranny that was Grimhilde. Snow snorted. Tyranny? Now where did I come up with that? She shook her head. She should stop reading those twenty-five cent paperbacks from the thrift store. All they did was fill her head with thoughts of romance and silly song lyrics. In fact, she should stop writing those, too.

As she cleaned up the greenhouse, she began to sing a tune she was working on. She couldn't practice at home – Grimhilde hated music. But in her greenhouse, she was safe.

She looked up at her potted roses. "You wanna hear a secret? Promise not to tell?" Snow strolled to the large basin of water they kept in the far corner. "We are standing by a wishing well. Make a wish into the well. That's all you have to do. And if you hear it echoing, your wish will soon come true."

Snow had so many wishes. She didn't even know which one she would pick if she actually did have her own wishing well. It was idiotic to believe those things even existed, or worked for that matter.

"I'm wishing," she sang. The basic echoed it back. "For the one I love to find me today."

She almost laughed out loud. Love! What an even more foolish thing to believe in. As Stepmother said, "Who would ever be so foolish as to love you?" Who indeed?

But a part of her did believe. She could not shake that feeling of hope, no matter how much Grimhilde tried to beat it out of her.

"I'm hoping and I'm dreaming of the nice things he'll say," she continued in her high, soprano voice. "I'm wishing for the one I love to find me today."

"Today," a strong, tenor voice echoed.

Snow screamed.

She turned her head and saw a young man, likely a senior at DSNEY, standing in the doorway, his hands in the pockets of his brown trousers. He had the most ridiculously charming smile. Snow blushed.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. I heard you singing and, well," he shrugged. "I can't resist a good melody."

Snow raised an eyebrow. "You liked it?"

The boy nodded, his fair skin soaking up the late morning sun. His short, brown hair was pushed back from his forehead and his light brown eyes held her gaze. Her blush worsened.

"Do you have any more?"

"Any more what?"

"Songs," he said. "Have you written others?"

Snow thought of the notebooks full of songs back at home in her basement bedroom. "Just a few," she said, shrugging casually. What does he want?

He stepped in the doorway. "You're Snow White Blanchard, right?"

"My friends call me Snow."

He smiled. "You have a lovely voice. I always enjoy your solos in choir."

Her interest was piqued. "You're in choir, too? How come I've never seen you before?"

He ran a hand through his hair, causing the buttons on his blue vest to stretch. Her eyes drifted to his arms. His white button-up shirt had the sleeves rolled up to the elbows, revealing lean, toned muscle. My, what … nice arms. They reminded her of her book covers, which only caused her to blush more.

"You probably have, but I'm usually behind the piano or wrapping mic cords. It's not glamorous, but it will might get me to Broadway as a stage hand," he said with a chuckle.

Snow smirked. "Usually, when people say they dream of Broadway, it's to be an actor."

He shrugged. "Well, you have to start somewhere. Personally, I like the backstage atmosphere. You get all the juicy on-stage gossip without having people stare at you for three hours."

Snow laughed. "What's your name?"

"Ferb. Ferb Prince." He bowed. "Pleased to make your acquaintance."

Snow did a mock curtsey. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Ferb Prince."

They stood there, smiling at each other in that silly way people do when something is about to happen but they have no clue what.

But whatever was meant to be said, whatever moment the Universe had planned for them, was cut short by Ella's accidental interruption.

"Snow, I found you a sandwich! It's not the best, but in a pinch it will – oh!" She bumped into Ferb's shoulder. "I'm so sorry, I didn't see you!"

Ferb blushed as he smiled. "I should be the one that's sorry. Taking up doorways seems to be one of my many talents." He stepped to the side, shouldering his backpack. "It was nice singing with you, Snow. I hope we can do it again sometime." Ferb left the girls, heading towards the DSNEY track.

As soon as he was gone, Ella rushed over to Snow. She took Snow's hands, gripping them tight. "Tell me everything!"

Snow insisted it was nothing. Ferb merely caught her in a moment of daydreaming. It really wasn't as big a deal as Ella insisted.

"Ferb Prince is one of the cutest boys in school! How can you say that isn't anything?"

"Isn't he friends with Kit Charming?"

Ella scrunched up her nose. "Well, he could use better taste in friends, but besides that, he's practically perfect."

Snow laughed. "Now you're sounding like Principal Poppins." She shook her head, walking away from Ella. "You really are making a mountain out of a mole hill." She grabbed her bag. "Although, I must admit it was nice having someone to sing with. He has a lovely voice."

"I'm sure that's not all that's lovely about him," Ella said with a giggle, linking her arm with Snow's.

Snow rolled her eyes. "You really are too much, Ella. You need to stop listening to those stepsisters of yours."

Ella laughed. "It's not my fault they're so loud. I can't help but hear them obsess over Kit all day. I really wish he would just date one of them so it would shut them up."

Snow and Ella kept up conversation as they made their way back to the building. Despite her best efforts, Snow's mind wandered to Ferb one too many times. She would have to look out for him during Wednesday's choir practice.

Snow sighed heavily. It was getting late and she was no closer to finding an answer in the library's shelves. Belle French sat at the circulation desk scanning books. Walterelias' library wasn't as extensive as the libraries in, say, New York, but it was the right size for one librarian to handle the building on their own.

The junior read through the few articles again then shook her head. "This is pointless. I don't even know what I'm looking for."

"You want to know about the inheritance, right?" Belle asked from her chair. "Why don't you go to your father's lawyer's office on the weekend and ask to see the documents? Even if they say no, at least you can say you tried."

"But what if they tell Grimhilde I was there? She would be furious."

Belle shrugged. "I don't know what to tell you, Snow. All I know is, the library closes in ten minutes and you won't find any answers in those papers."

Snow huffed loudly, pouting a little. If I could just ask my dad, that would be best. She wished he had left a clearer will, or at least a copy in the house. He might have, for all she knew, but Grimhilde likely had it hidden somewhere. Snow was willing to snoop, but going through Grimhilde's things was asking for trouble.

The young woman packed up her bag, leaving the articles in their proper place in the newspaper archives. She helped Belle stack the shelves then shrugged on her bright yellow coat. Stepmother would not be impressed with a late night, but if all went well, her party at Lady Tremaine's would keep her out of the house well after midnight.

Belle locked the door behind them. The cool, night air hit Snow's face and caused her to recoil. She couldn't wait to get home into her warm bed.

"Thanks for helping me close the library," Belle said. "You should apply for a job as an assistant here. You know these shelves almost as well as me," she said with a chuckle.

"Right now, I barely have time to think," Snow said. "But thank you. That means a lot. I'll see you tomorrow at school." She waved goodbye to Belle then went down the four steps, turning left as Belle went right.

She was a block away from the library when she felt a hand on her shoulder. Snow whipped her head around and gasped. It was Officer Huntsman.

He had not aged gracefully over the past ten years. His black hair was now salt and pepper and his beard was scraggly. She wondered what had caused the light to dim from his eyes.

"Officer Huntsman?"

The man lowered his gaze. "Snow Blanchard. It's been a while."

She nodded hesitantly. "Yes, ten years I believe. What's wrong? Did I do something?"

He shook his head. "No, no, I … I need you to come with me. For your safety."

"My safety?" her voice cracked. "What's going on? Am I in danger?"

"Not exactly. There have been, uh, reports. Rapists. Gotta be careful. Come with me. I'll drive you home."

Huntsman's police cruiser was just up the block. As they walked there, Snow felt his grip on her arm tighten. Her heart started to speed up. She wanted him to let go, but she was too scared to speak. This doesn't feel right.

When they got to his car, they stopped beside the back door. She waited for him to open it, but instead he just stood there, staring into the darkness across the street.

"Officer Huntsman? Are you okay?"

He slowly shook his head. "I can't do it," he muttered.

"Can't do what?" He didn't answer. "Do what?" She repeated.

The police officer loosened his grip on her arm. "You need to run."

"What are you talking about? Run where? What's happening?"

"I can't do it again. I can't hurt you like she wants me to. But she won't let it go until you're gone." He gripped her shoulders, forcing her to look at him. "Snow, you have to leave home. Tonight. Don't go back there. Grimhilde is … she wants you gone. Forever."

The air left Snow's lungs. "She wants me … dead?"

Huntsman nodded. "She wanted me to do it, but I can't. I can't kill a child. After what I did to your father, I can't do it to you, too."

"My father? You told us it was an accident."

"I've been telling myself that for ten years, but that doesn't make it true. I cut the brakes in his car to make it look like an accident because your stepmother told me to."

Grimhilde. "I knew it," Snow whispered as she covered her mouth. "She killed him." Snow looked at Huntsman, her eyes wide. "And now you're going to kill me."

He shook his head. "No, I won't. I can't. But you have to run away now. If you come home tonight, we'll both be done for."

Snow White's feet took off on their own accord. She wasn't sure where she was running to, but she trusted them to take her somewhere safe. As she ran, she thought over everything she had been told. I can't go home, I can't go to school, I can't go anywhere or she will know I'm alive and send someone else after me. Snow felt tears come to her eyes. I'm not safe anywhere.

She wasn't sure how long she ran for, but she made it to the west side of town with its cottage-like houses and flickering streetlights. She remembered coming here with her father to visit his friends the Dwarf brothers. They used to work the mines together before her father started to move up in the company. She wondered if they still lived here.

Snow White stopped near the end of the block. Hands on her knees, she bent over and took deep breathes, then vomited on the sidewalk. She looked around to see if Officer Huntsman had followed her. Instead of seeing a white police cruiser, she read the letters on a mailbox in front of her.

DWARF.

Snow almost cried. She went to the door of the cottage and knocked. All the lights were off and the van was not in the driveway. She began to panic. She tripped on the welcome mat. What are the odds? She flipped it over and pulled out the key. Snow did cry then.

The exhausted woman locked the door behind her and managed to get to the couch before passing out. It was the deepest sleep she had in years.