Chapter 1 - A Promised Promise

Strange CandyStrange Candy 
Summary: Onthe turn of Charlie’s twelfth birthday, a new threat to the factory arises.Charlie learns how important a friend can be. Wonka learns how difficultmentorship can be. Wonka/Charlie friendship, non-slash. Wonka/OC.
 
Notes: Can’t say muchhere. I loved the 2005 remake of Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory. I lovedthe original, too, as a kid. But Burton’s adaptation of Wonka is what inspiredme to write this fanfiction. Unbelievable as it may seem, it has nothing to dowith the attractiveness factor of Johnny Depp or any of his characters. It’sWonka, the character, who’s key.
 
Oddly enough, this is a tragedy. Odd, notbecause I never write tragedies (I write them quite often, you see.) Odd,simply because there are many points of the story that might seem rather funny.And sappy. But we all like sappy, so long as it’s not out of character, right?Right. Heh.
 
Read and review, or not. I like reviews,but I won’t drag them out of you. Just give this fic a chance, yes?
 
Oh, and the first chapter is quiteshort. Rest assured, none of the other chapters will be as short as this. Muchlonger, actually. That’s a promise. Seeing as I have like…three other chaptersalready written. (shrugs)
 
Disclaimer:  Roald Dahl, people. I own no one. Except AprilBanks. You’ll get to know her later on.
               
 
Chapter One: A PromisedPromise 
               
                Charlie wokewith a start. He knew exactly what day it was. He always remembered. Today wasthe day he looked forward to all year, whether or not it was sunny or raining,warm or cold. It was his birthday.
 
              He threw offhis covers and surged out of bed, nearly tripping over the sheets as theytangled around his feet. After a moment of furious kicking, he managed to freehimself and dashed over to his closet. He’d thrown off his bed wear and dressedhimself in a matter of seconds, running over to stand in front of his brand newmirror. He ran a comb through his hair, smoothed it down with his hands, andpractically flew out the door.
 
                “Goodmorning, Dad!” he cried jovially, bouncing off the last rung of the batteredladder. His father, who sat at the empty table, looked up from his paper andreturned the greeting just as enthusiastically.
 
                “Happybirthday, son,” he said affectionately, putting the newspaper down to clap theboy on the shoulder. “Feel any older today? You’re twelve now, getting a littletoo big to be sleeping in those old rafters.”
 
                “Not really.Not yet,” Charlie said excitedly. His next immediate target was the single bedsitting where the old one used to be. The only occupant of the bed happened tobe Georgina at the time, so he set upon her with a heartfelt embrace. “Goodmorning, Grandma Georgina.”
 
                “Goodmorning, Charlie. Congratulations,” she said wistfully, returning the hug withher featherlike arms.
 
                Charliebeamed happily. “Thanks,” he said. “Where’s Grandpa Joe and Grandpa George? AndMom and Mr. Wonka?”
 
                Hisgrandmother did not seem to hear him at all, but that came as no surprise. Hisfather stood up from the table and folded the paper away. “Grandpa Joe andGeorge both went to fetch groceries for your mother. She and Mr. Wonka shouldbe home any time now.”
 
                As if on cue,there came a dull thud from the door and a split moment later, it swung open onits crooked hinges to reveal one proudly smiling Willy Wonka and aweary-looking Mrs. Bucket. With the diligence of a glassmaker and thecheeriness of a boy younger than Charlie, Wonka paused just inside the door andoffered Mrs. Bucket a violet gloved hand. She took it, for beingeight-months-something pregnant was trouble for someone thirty-two years ofage. Grateful for the chocolatier’s assistance, she stepped through theawkwardly shaped door and into the house.
 
                Mr. Bucketwas instantly by her side to help guide her to the table. Wonka stood back,straight and tall, both hands on his cane and two careful eyes surveying thesurrounding room. Ever since the news of Mrs. Bucket’s pregnancy had beenspilt, he’d acted nothing less than an overprotective older brother to Charlie’smother. Charlie always assumed that Wonka was just as excited to have a newaddition to the amily, seeing as the Buckets were nothing unlike a new familyto Wonka.
 
                “There youare, Charlie!” the chocolatier said, upon spotting the boy. “Isn’t it great? Meand the Oompa Loompas have this great, big birthday present just waiting foryou, just sitting there all ready to open and eat…”
 
                “Mr. Wonka,it can’t really be a surprise if you tell him all about it,” Mrs. Bucketinterjected with a faint smile. Mr. Bucket was also smiling, his hand givinghis wife’s shoulder a slight squeeze.
 
                Wonka tiltedhis head towards her. “A surprise doesn’t stop being a surprise unless thesurpriser tells the surprisee that’s what the present is,” he retorted in aknow-it-all way. “It just s happens, Charlie doesn’t know it’s a surprise, sothe present must be a surprise!”
 
                “It soundslike fun,” said Charlie, before anyone else could comment on his unusual,circular logic. “Thank you very much, Mr. Wonka.”
 
                “You’re very,very welcome,” came the enthusiastic reply. “I know, let’s go and open it now!The Oompa Loompas have been very excited ever since they started makingit. They’re really quite anxious to see you today, Charlie.”
 
                Charlie wasaware that both his parents were beaming at him – apparently because they knewwhat the secret was behind this surprise. He felt the familiar boiling ofanxiety in the pit of his stomach; he could hardly refrain from appearing tooeager, as he didn’t want to hurt Mr. Wonka’s feelings if something wronghappened. He was also a little disappointed, for it was clear that thechocolatier had forgotten his promise from a few days prior.
 
                Luckily forhim, his mother still remembered. “Aren’t you and Charlie going into the citytoday?”
 
                Wonka lookeda little startled. “The city? Why would we ever want to do that?”
 
                “It’stradition,” Charlie explained, for what seemed to him to be the thousandthtime. But he understood fairly. Mr. Wonka was not keen to constant traditions,especially when it came to family ones. “Every year on my birthday, my parentsbuy me a Wonka chocolate bar from the city. Then they wrap it up and give it tome as a birthday present.”
 
                “Well, whydidn’t they ask the Oompa Loompas to make you one?” Willy asked with honest confusion.“I mean, there’s an entire chocolate river just right outside the door.”
 
                “I thinkCharlie was hoping that…you would take him this year,” Mr. Bucket explained.“It’s more of a tradition to buy the chocolate from a store than get it fromthe factory. Is…that all right?”
 
                There came alengthy pause in which Mr. Wonka received this notion. Slowly, he uncurled hisfingers from his cane and looked straight at the waiting boy. “Well sure…okay,but...is that what you really want, Charlie?”
 
                Charlie noddedwithout hesitation. “I’ll try to explain it on the way. Thank you forunderstanding.”
 
                “Well then,let’s not waste another moment!” Wonka turned around in a spontaneous displayof gusto and stepped outside again. Suddenly, he stopped dead in his tracks,frozen by some unseen reason. Tactfully, he reached out and prodded the emptyair with his cane, drooping with relief when nothing out of the ordinaryhappened. “Okay,” he said brightly. “Just making sure.” And he started forwardagain.
 
                The Buckets exchanged glances,but Charlie just shrugged, and launched forward to catch up with theever-impulsive chocolatier.
 
 
 
SneakPeek: A morning in town, a chocolate bar, a very shortargument and a detour. And food. Sort of.

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