After much debate, Grumpy agreed to stay with Snow while the brothers did their best to fulfill the order. They would have to spend a week in the forge working from morning until after dark. That gave Grumpy a good chance to teach Snow about her magic in relative privacy. She was still so hesitant to even touch her own magic, let alone use it. He was determined to break her of the hesitation and strengthen her control over her magic exponentially over that week. The first morning they hurried away, Grumpy shut the door and looked at Snow.

"What housework ya gots today?"

"Dishes, sweeping, and laundry," Snow answered promptly.

Grumpy nodded. "Great. Now sit down an' start."

Snow looked alarmed. "What?"

"Yer usin' magic fer yer chores."

Snow flushed and hesitated, glancing at the door. "Are you certain?"

"They've left the bubble. I'll know if'n they come back."

Snow took a breath and lowered herself onto the bench, pressing her hands together as she leaned on the table. There was such wariness on her face...

"Focus," he encouraged. "Focus on liftin' sommit and take it to the sink."

Snow's eyes landed on a fork, and she took a deep breath and focused on it. After a pause, pink sparkles began to gleam around the utensil and it slowly, tremulously rose into the air.

"Good girl," Grumpy praised. "Inta the sink."

Snow's brown eyes took on a pink gleam, a sign her magic was blooming, then she jerked and all magic cut off as the fork dropped to the floor. Snow pushed back on the table and tumbled over the bench, all color drained from her face. She lay in a heap on the floor, her eyes searching the room.

Grumpy stood up and slowly approached her. "Snow?"

Snow looked at him then flushed as she sat up on shaking arms. "I'm sorry," she said faintly, tears blooming in her eyes.

Grumpy reached out to help her up, and she cringed away, trembling. He paused.

"'S'okay, Snow," Grumpy murmured. "'S'okay. I ain't gonna hurt ya. Take a breath. Let's get ya up in yer seat."

Snow reached out her hand and allowed Grumpy to help her up. He helped her to sit down then hurried to make some tea as she sat and hugged herself.

"Bad memories?" Grumpy asked as the kettle heated.

"I'm sorry."

"Mmhm."

Snow looked up then hesitated. Was Grumpy inviting her to speak if she needed to again? She decided he was. "My stepmother didn't like me to use any magic. She always knew, you see. She'd burst in on me and strike me."

Grumpy nodded. "Usually after ya started feelin' the magic move like that?"

"Yes," Snow sighed.

The kettle whistled and Grumpy quickly made two cups of tea. "Here," he said, pushing one over. "Should calm yer nerves. Lavender or sommit."

Snow sipped the aromatic drink and glanced at Grumpy. "I'm sorry for the trouble."

"T'ain't no trouble," Grumpy said firmly. "Sometimes it's hard fer me ta use certain kinds a magic. An' there's other stuff I don't like. Calida did a number on me. I don't like people tuggin' on my beard, fer one."

"Why would anybody tug on your beard?" Snow asked. "I mean, isn't that a bad thing?"

Grumpy smiled. "Not with Dwarfs. It shows affection and whatnot. But the brothers cain't do it fer me. Makes me panic. Calida'd yank on it so hard that I thought it'd come out." Grumpy reached up and stroked his beard, his expression tightening. "Don't like it much. But they'll let me do it fer them."

"That's so nice," Snow said. "They really do love you."

Grumpy shifted uneasily. "They shouldn't."

Snow looked at him curiously. "Is it just because of the magic?" she asked.

"Naw."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Grumpy shook his head. He waved his hand and the silverware on the table jumped upright on the tabletop in a shower of green sparkles. Snow giggled as the Dwarf made them dance. One of the knives was alone, standing right in front of Snow, waiting for a partner. She looked down at the fork on the floor and focused on it. After a brief moment of hesitation, pink sparkles glittered around the fork and it slowly lifted up to the level of the table. With her eyes gleaming pink as she concentrated fiercely, the fork weaved through the dancing silverware to join the knife. Grumpy flexed his fingers and the knife bowed to the fork then started dancing. Snow grinned and Grumpy could tell her magic was settling into place as she relaxed and focused more naturally.

"Yer doin' perty good," Grumpy said.

Snow looked up. "What?"

"Yer doin' magic," he said, grinning and gesturing at the fork.

Shock and then pleasure flashed across her face. "I am!"

Grumpy could tell that Snow was very pleased with herself, and there was precious little in her life before the cottage that she could be pleased about. He knew from the little they'd spoken of Grimhilde that Snow was terrified of her, and for good reason. Sleepy had made Snow a simple blue dress from a fresh bolt of cloth, and Grumpy had seen the tops of the lashing scars when she'd come out with it on. The scars told him that Grimhilde was just as bad as Calida, if not worse. They both obviously took pleasure in others' pain.

"Grumpy?" Snow asked.

"Hm?" Grumpy looked up and saw anxiety in Snow's face.

"Do you think I'm bad?"

Grumpy shook his head. "Naw. Why?"

"My stepmother used to tell me that magic is for bad people."

Grumpy grunted in response, sensing she needed reassurance. "And?"

Snow took a deep breath. "Well, you told me that she does black magic…"

"Mmhm." The Dwarf wondered where this was going.

"And I just can't help but think that she would definitely know that magic is for bad people. Being into such dark magic."

Grumpy patted her hand. "Yer nothin' like her."

"How do you know that?" Snow asked, sounding almost desperate.

"I've heard stories about her," Grumpy replied. "She's selfish. Cruel. Angry. Yer nothin' like that. Yer gentle. Good. Kind."

"But I have magic," Snow murmured sadly.

Grumpy could find nothing to say in response to that. It was something he still hadn't come to terms with himself, never being able to be good simply because of the way he'd been born. Magic was for bad people. He knew that. Calida had never tired of reminding him. And even Doc and the brothers thought magic was only for bad people. He and Snow would be marked their entire lives simply because of the magic that boiled in their blood. It was unfair, he thought bitterly, but since when had life been fair?

"Me, too," was all he said. Then he straightened. "Now. Let's get the chores done. Start by takin' the dishes ta the sink."

"This might take awhile."

"We gots all mornin'," Grumpy replied.

"What will you do?" Snow challenged.

"Sweep," he said, recognizing that Snow wouldn't be able to do everything with her magic. She'd be tired out from the dishes alone. "Mebbe help ya with laundry. That part we'll do without magic."

Snow smiled and nodded then sat up and stared hard at the silverware.

Grumpy thought for a moment. "Make 'em dance inta the sink."

"Why?"

"Funner that way," Grumpy said. "Used ta do chores with funny stories behind the silly magic I'd use. Would make time pass and get the chores done quicker."

Snow giggled. "They have to be washed for the royal supper tonight," she said decisively. "They simply aren't presentable."

"Best get to it then," Grumpy said, leaning back in his chair and waving his hand at the broom.

Snow grinned then focused on the silverware. It took her three hours to get the dishes done by magic, which discouraged her. She could have finished the dishes by hand in fifteen minutes, but Grumpy was very pleased by her attempt. The sweeping was done within ten minutes, but Grumpy stayed with her and offered advice and encouragement. He told her to note what she was feeling, how the magic flowed from her center to her fingertips so that she would remember how everything worked together. So though she was rather tired and anxious, she felt pleased by his praise and appreciated his teaching.

Grumpy used his magic to make dinner while Snow went up to lie down for a while. He carried two plates upstairs and cleared his throat when he saw the curtain closed.

"Dinner," he said.

There was a brief pause then Snow opened the curtain and fell back onto her bed, now complete with a frame. She looked a bit more rested as she reached for a plate.

"Thank you," Snow said gratefully. "That nap was just what I needed."

"Food'll help, too," Grumpy said, plopping on the stool and taking a bite of cornbread. "Eat up. Still gots laundry ta do."

Snow smiled and took a bite of the meat pie Grumpy had heated up for their dinner. He'd made the cornbread himself, and Snow relished it.

"It tastes different than when Happy makes it," Snow said thoughtfully.

A pleased grin spread over Grumpy's face. "Added a bit a sugar. Happy don't do that. Drives him up a wall, not knowin' what I put in it. It's the one recipe I got that he hasn't been able to figger out."

Snow laughed. "That's a good trick. I'll have to use it."

Grumpy chuckled. "Don't tell Happy first time ya do it. I wanna see his face when he takes a bite."

"He really likes food," Snow agreed.

"Mm. Reminds him of his ma. She taught him cookin'. Ta him, it's how he takes care of the family."

"Food is love," Snow said. "I feel like that. Making a meal is loving those you make it for."

Grumpy grunted through a mouthful of food. "Can be."

"That isn't your experience?"

The Dwarf swallowed. "Food is energy," he said listlessly. "Until I came here, food was food. Just enough ta get ta the next day."

Snow was curious. "Have you had a rough life?"

Grumpy nodded. "Like I told ya, I'm an orphan. Ain't exactly easy bein' an orphan on the streets."

"Did you have to do a lot of stealing?"

The question was posed with her usual innocence, but it stung because of the answer he had to give. He refused to say it.

"Better get on that laundry," he said gruffly.

Snow knew he was avoiding the question, which was answer enough. It was bizarre for her to think of kind, gentle Grumpy having to steal from others just to make it to the next day. But she also knew you did what you had to in order to survive. She'd stolen food from the kitchens many times when Grimhilde had refused to feed her for several days on end. Guilt, fear, and shame were ever-present in those memories, and Snow understood why Grumpy didn't want to talk about it. So she accepted the subject change and put the rest of her meat pie into her mouth.

"We'll take everything out to the pond," she said. "Help me gather everything there. Then we'll start washing."

Grumpy took her plate and flashed them into the sink. Snow blinked as the plates disappeared.

"What?" she asked.

"Called flashin'," Grumpy said. "Flash sommit from here ta there."

"Is that what you did that day in the kitchen? Where you ended up by the door?"

Grumpy nodded and puffed up a bit. "Flashin' forward is one a my specialties. Can pass miles and miles like that. It's how I got ta the forest the night Doc and them found me. Castell's perty far away walkin', but I done flashed forward miles and ended up in the woods." Grumpy's expression softened. "Never woulda met 'em, otherwise. Perty glad I did."

Snow smiled. "Aw, you do love them."

Grumpy's cheeks turned red, and he shrugged. "Don't know whatcha mean. Them's annoyin'."

Snow laughed, but she wasn't fooled. "How did you end up here?"

"Perty long story," Grunpy said laconically.

"And we have a lot of laundry to do," Snow replied.

Grumpy shrugged and began the story where he was running through the woods, wounded and afraid to stop. Snow was an incredibly entertaining audience. She gasped at all the right places, and had other reactions that made Grumpy feel like he was talking to a child. In some ways she was still a child. The Dwarfs all considered Dopey to still possess childlike qualities, even at seventeen. Snow was only fourteen. So young. But Grumpy knew she was used to being struck for any small audacity. And she'd been lashed by Grimhilde for her flaws. She wasn't exactly the spoiled brat he'd initially assumed she'd be. He was afraid of what other punishments lay in her past. But if she was content to talk with him, he wasn't going to stop it. She needed an ear, and as he scrubbed at the clothes, enjoying speaking of his own past, he thought maybe that he did, too.