Author's Note: Okay, fasten your seat belts! I believe this is my best fan fiction yet (so far)! Very excited to see what you guys think of it. This is my first Wonka fiction. Will be eventual Wonka x OC pairing.

This is a Wilder-Wonka, because I was scanning through the collection of fictions about CatCH and was appalled at the lack of Gene Wilder versions. Ugh!

Summary: Let's forget about Charlie. How about Charlotte instead? When Charlotte (called Charlie by most) discovers the Fifth Golden Ticket, she doesn't know she's opening the door to love, friendship, and a ton of chocolate.

Disclaimer: If I owned Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, I never would have remade the movie. IMHO, the 1971 version with Gene Wilder was the best, and it should have remained that way. Gene Wilder, I think, kept the innocence and sweetness of the character. Johnny Depp kinda played him weird, made him into this eccentric guy who looks scary. Sorry to any blatant Depp shippers, but it's not my style. No flames, please.

The sky was gray and overcast, barely shedding any light on the grimy streets of London. Dirty snow filtered down from the muddy sky, melting slowly on the dirty sidewalks, leaving a slushy, freezing mixture on everything. Traffic was slow, and the few pedestrians who were out and about at this time of the evening were even slower. Icy winds blew gently at coat hems, tearing at faces and leaving them ruddy with the cold. Everything was slippery and coated in ice-cold slush. People stayed inside on such a day, trying not to think about the terrible weather outside. The only person visible on the whole sidewalk was a girl, and hardly a girl you'd notice unless she raised her eyes to look at you. Her hair was black and pulled back in a messy braid that descended down to the middle of her back. A pair of striking green eyes were hidden behind a set of naturally thick, dark lashes. Freckles danced across her cheeks and nose, spattering themselves like droplets of mud. Her figure was hidden behind a bulky, tattered green coat that had patches on both of the elbows. A pair of denim jeans were frayed at the ends, and her boots were slit all the way around, to make room for her toes.

A package was clutched under her arm, half-hidden under her coat to protect it from the bitter elements. It contained two dozen newspapers, all to be sold by this afternoon, otherwise it would come out of her meager paycheck. She glanced around half-heartedly, finally tearing her bright green eyes from the worn sidewalks in search of people to sell her newspapers to. Her gaze fell on a pair of wrought-iron gates, painted black with a fresh coat of paint. Behind it stood a majestic factory, with pipes and such protruding from the high roof. The front doors were beautiful mahogany, not unlike the doors you would expect on a palace or a castle. The girl closed her eyes, tilting her chin backwards and concentrating on the scents that passed by her. At first, all she smelled was the familiar smell of rancid garbage, the depressing aroma of wet paper (from her newspapers, which were damp despite her best efforts to keep them dry), and the heady scent of fried fish that came from a fish and chips shop down the street.

Then it passed her, briefly tickling her senses, no more then the faintest whiff. A slight smell of melting chocolate, so dark and rich you could practically taste it. She sniffed harder, trying to inhale as much of the dizzying smell as she could, gulping down chocolate-spiked air like a fine perfume. The girl caught no more of the heavenly smell, and she opened her bright green eyes, disappointed. Then she caught a glimpse of something moving behind a curtained window. A tall figure twitched aside the curtain just a crack, and a mixture of hope and fear rose in her chest. She hurried away, thinking that he would call the police for vandalism; she was, after all, a teenager hanging around by his gates.

Her mission of selling damp newspapers forgotten, she trudged home, her boots making deep scraping noises on the sidewalk. Dark hair gleaming wetly in the dim evening light, she lowered her eyes to the sidewalk again and began her slow journey home, which was over two miles away. On her way, she managed to sell two newspapers to a young couple who felt sorry for the ragged-looking girl who was standing out in the freezing rain, trying to sell newspapers that were damp and sticking together with moisture.

*%*%*%*%*

She opened the door, and the warmth hit her like a wall. It was very chilly in the Bucket household, but compared to the icy sleet outside, it was positively balmy. The girl shrugged off her patched green coat and hung it on a sagging hook by the door, and kicked off her cut-open boots as well. Her socks were bright red and her toes poked through the ends, showing little toes that were bright pink with cold. She rubbed her hands together briskly, then along her arms, trying to get some warmth back into her body. The girl went into the main room, where her four grandparents and her two parents were all sitting, talking in low voices about nothing in particular.

Mrs. Bucket looked up from her knitting and smiled a tired, weary smile. The corners of her eyes crinkled as she saw her only daughter standing in the doorway, tired, wet and cold. Mrs. Bucket's hair had originally been light brown, but years of sporadic food and the strain of limited finances had wisps of gray mixed in among the lightening brown hair. She beckoned to her daughter to come over.

"Charlotte, you're all wet," she scolded with no real heart in it. Everybody knew that Charlotte (everyone called her Charlie) was a good, solid teenager. Charlie had yet to get into trouble like all of the other teenagers her age.

"Yeah, I got caught in the sleet coming home," Charlie admitted, dropping a perfunctory kiss on her mother's head. She smiled at her father, who was asleep in a rickety armchair that was positioned near the fireplace, which contained only dying embers.

Grandma Josephine blinked sleepily, rousing herself from her doze. "Charlie, did you bring home the groceries?" she croaked from the left side of the bed.

"Quiet, Josie, she only just got home. Let the child warm up." Grandma Georgina chided. Josephine made a face at her sister-in-law.

"Don't call me Josie. And she was told to bring the groceries," Josephine whined.

Charlie stepped between the two of them and dropped the paper sack of groceries on the bed. "Yes, I brought the groceries," she said quietly, hushing the two of them. The sister-in-laws were always squabbling over petty little things.

Grandpa George rummaged through the paper sack and brought out the meager groceries, which included a quart of milk, a loaf of bread, and half a dozen eggs. At the bottom he found the receipt and scanned it, a little smile forming on his craggy features. "You bought a Wonka bar," he said. Charlie blushed.

"I had seventy-nine cents left over," Charlie said ruefully. "Mom said I could as long as I had enough money."

"We don't mind you getting a candy bar, do we, Josephine?" Grandpa Joe said, emphasizing the last few words. Josephine closed her mouth with a snap. She turned her nose in the air and sniffed.

"I was only going to say the girl will ruin her dinner," she said waspishly.

"We don't have much of a dinner," Mrs. Bucket said sadly. Charlie shrugged.

"I'm not really hungry, anyway. I had a big lunch at school." Charlie said, talking loudly to hide the rumble her stomach gave. Luckily, it looked like no one had noticed. "Anyway, I have a lot of homework to do. I love you guys." she said, waving good bye to her grandparents.

When Charlie was safely upstairs in her creaky attic bedroom, Mrs. Bucket sighed wearily. "I wish we had enough money to get her something nice for her birthday," she said.

"She's never asked for anything," Josephine pointed out.

"That's because Charlie has a heart of gold," Joe said quietly. "She deserves a palace."

"Charlie's going to be seventeen!" Georgina exclaimed. "It seems like only yesterday she was tugging on my nightgown, looking for a sweet."

"She does like those Wonka bars," George said. "Oh, I know she tries to hide it, but I think they're her favorite thing to eat."

"Who doesn't like chocolate?" Josephine sniffed.

They all sighed and went back to watching the tiny black-and-white TV that was perched on the top of a wobbly table. Mrs. Bucket wiped her eyes on her knitting. Charlie's birthday would be coming up in two weeks, and the only thing they could afford to give her would be a Wonka bar wrapped up in newspaper. Charlie would be delighted, she knew, but a girl like Charlie deserved better then that. Joe was right. She deserved a palace.

Charlie leaned up against the brick wall of the candy shop, a tear slipping out of her eye. She had seen today, on television, the famous Fifth Golden Ticket article. It had been found, by a man named Hajjer Jamed, who lived somewhere in Egypt. Curiously enough, he was the only adult finder of the Golden Tickets; psychologists said it was because children had more determination. Charlie had seen the four other children on the news that morning, and another tear slipped down her face as she thought about them. They were all spoiled, greedy, selfish and gluttonous…but, they had something she didn't apparently.

There was Veruca Salt, that spoiled rich girl who had everything a girl could dream for. Her face was an uninteresting shade of dark brown, and her thin white face was pinched in a perpetual sneer. Her daddy owned a very successful peanut business, (Salt's Salted Peanuts) and had more money then he knew what to do with, hence Veruca's state of whininess. The wretched girl had squealed all throughout the interview, making Charlie want to clap her hands over her ears.

Augustus Gloop was a fat German boy who was almost constantly eating. His large belly proceeded him, wobbling like a pile of Jell-o. At the time of the interview, he had chocolate smeared messily across his mouth, and his words were indistinguishable between his heavy German accent and the mouthful of sweets he had in his mouth. His mother had answered the questions mostly, proudly saying that her child had eaten two hundred and sixteen candy bars before finding the Golden Ticket.

Mike Teevee, a small boy with spiky brown hair and glazed blue eyes that were always fixated on a TV screen. He had a cowboy hat askew on his tiny head when they were asking questions, and he kept waving his hands and telling the reporters to scram, he was watching his favorite show. He also had two fake guns which he blasted at the television set during the dramatic parts.

Then there was Violet Beauregarde, a gum-snapping, fast-talking little girl who babbled on and on about how long she had chewed her gum. It was kind of disgusting, seeing how much of the gray gum she had crammed in her mouth. But she kept blowing bubbles and snapping the gum loudly, chattering about nothing in particular.

Charlie sighed and cuffed the tears from her eyes. She had no right to cry, really. She had only opened two Wonka bars, and the likelihood of the Fifth Golden Ticket being contained in one of them was a million to one. But Charlie couldn't help but cry. A lifetime of chocolate - what could be better then that? And she had longed to see inside the great factory. She stopped by there every day, trying to catch another whiff of the glorious chocolate, wishing she could bask in the heavenly goodness. Like any seventeen year old, Charlie couldn't get enough of the sugary, creamy, rich chocolate that was so distinctly Wonka.

She began walking home slowly, her head hanging, ignoring the large group of people who were talking animatedly around a portable radio. Charlie couldn't hear what was being said on the radio over the din, but it didn't matter. Probably new information about this Hajjer person. She couldn't bear hearing more about the fabulous Golden Tickets.

As she walked, something glittered in the gutter. She stepped off the sidewalk and saw…to her utter amazement…a ten pound note! Her pervious gloom vanished as she thought of all the groceries she could buy with ten pounds. It would be enough to buy some tea for Mrs. Bucket, and a loaf of whole-wheat bread, both of which were almost unheard of luxuries. Then a thought struck Charlie. What did it matter if the Golden Tickets had been found? The store still carried Wonka chocolate; and even if there weren't any Golden Tickets to be had, the chocolate would still taste good.

Charlie ran inside the store and slapped the ten pound note down on the counter breathlessly, her cheeks pink, her black hair tangled and curls of it framing her pretty face. The plump storekeeper gave a jolly laugh at the sight of her so excited. "And what can I get you, Miss Charlotte?" he asked politely.

"A Wonka bar, please, Mr. Jeffrey," she said, still a little out of breath from her impulsive run. He laughed again.

"You're lucky we're not sold out. I guess the kids haven't heard about the scandal yet," he said, going behind the counter and retrieving a garishly-wrapped Wonka bar.

"Scandal?" Charlie asked. The shopkeeper handed her the Wonka bar.

"Yes. Apparently that fellow in Egypt was just faking. He didn't have a golden ticket at all. The Fifth Golden Ticket is still out there, somewhere." The shopkeeper said, looking wistfully at the boxes of unopened chocolate. Then he gave a little chuckle.

"Go on, enjoy your chocolate, Charlie. Maybe you'll get lucky." he said, passing over the pile of change. Charlie stared at the heap of coins in her hands, then extracted seventy nine cents.

"Maybe just one more," she said, beginning to unwrap her first Wonka bar. The shopkeeper passed one over with a broad grin. Why not, Charlie reasoned. It's still out there. Maybe I will get lucky.

She ripped off the foil uncertainly, trepidation written in every line of her face. When it revealed the smooth brown bar of chocolate, she gave an inward sigh of disappointment. Charlie sank her teeth into it, relishing the sweet taste, but her heart ached with longing. She had wanted that Golden Ticket so badly…

When her first bar was finished, she went outside with the other chocolate bar tucked into her pocket. She got halfway down the street when curiosity got the better of her, and she tore off the purple foil slowly.

Was that…

A glimmer of…

Gold?

Charlie threw the purple foil away and saw the stiff Golden Ticket in her chapped hand. Disbelief swept through her, so strong that for an instant she considered throwing it away. But when she saw the words: Congratulations! You are the winner of the 5th Golden Ticket! Charlie screamed with delight. The knot of people who were listening to the radio looked over, and Charlie waved the gold piece of paper in the air, shouting with excitement.

"I found it! I found the Fifth Golden Ticket!" she shrieked, and was instantly surrounded by the crowd of people, all of them congratulating her. These people had known Charlie for years, but in her blur of happiness she couldn't recognize any of the familiar faces. She was so happy, so excited. She was one of only five people that were going to be able to tour Willy Wonka's famous Chocolate Factory! It was too wonderful for words.

She raced down the streets, heedless of people in her way as she barreled past them. They all saw the flash of gold and assumed the best, and began crying out their congratulations as she stumbled down the street. Charlie barely acknowledged them; all she had eyes for was the road ahead, the road that led to her home. Wait until Grandpa Joe heard about this!

Hastily, she turned a corner sharply and went down a narrow alley. It was dark and dripping, but she was still reeling in shock, so she didn't notice the tall figure looming behind her until it clamped a hand on her shoulder. Charlie screamed again, this time in fear, and whirled around, her green eyes wide with panic. Standing in front of her was an impossibly tall, thin man with beady black eyes and a thin, cruel sneer on his sallow face.

"Congratulations, little girl," he said. His voice was a sinister rasp. "You've found the Fifth Golden Ticket. However did you manage it?"

Charlie swallowed hard, trying to wet her dry mouth. "Uh…just got lucky, I s-suppose." she stammered. He gave her another thin smile.

"Yes…you got lucky. Now, Miss Charlotte, I'm going to make you a deal. You and your family live in that poor little shack at the end of the street, hmm? How would you like to have more money then you could ever want? Wouldn't that be nice? Yes, it would be. Now, all you have to do is get me one piece of candy. Just one piece. When you go into Willy Wonka's factory, you need to get me one Everlasting Gobstopper, and give it to me. Then you and your family will be rich beyond your wildest dreams!" he said smoothly, smiling that feral, vicious smile.

She stepped back, choking. He gave her one more sinister smile and left in a swirl of his black frock coat. Charlie's stomach heaved unpleasantly. It had all happened so fast! She didn't know what to think. One piece of candy? Why? Willy Wonka made the most fabulous candy - ice cream that never melted, gum that blew bubbles so large you had to pop them with a pin, rainbow candies that you could eat and then spit in six different colors - so it only made sense that this man wanted to make the Everlasting Gobstoppers for himself. And he needed Charlie to get it.

Her strong sense of truth flared. Why should she? She would have a lifetime of chocolate to sustain her and her family. But then again, that was an awful lot of money…Charlie shook her head and started walking the rest of the way home to tell her parents and her grandparents the good news.

Charlie stood on one foot, straining anxiously to see over the throbbing masses of crowds. There was so much noise - cheering, whistling, clapping, whooping, and reporters babbling questions in her ear that she couldn't hear anything else but a monotonous din. The crush of people lessened slightly, and Grandpa Joe moved Charlie forward, and Charlie found herself in the back of a short line that consisted of the four other Golden Ticket holders. She got a good look at Veruca's shiny new dress and Violet's bright knee socks, and felt a little flutter of shame in her stomach. Charlie had dressed in her nicest clothes, which was a white blouse that was rolled up to the elbow and a pair of jeans that had only one patch. Mrs. Bucket had splurged and bought her a secondhand gold headband which pushed back her curly black hair except for a few stray curls that framed her face. Josephine and Georgina had worked together for once and had washed and embroidered one of Mrs. Bucket's old messenger bags. Before she had left, she thought she looked pretty. Now she felt shabby and thoroughly secondhand.

The reporters quieted as the mahogany doors opened, and a tall, lean man stepped out. Charlie gasped. Could it possibly be the same person who had watched her as she smelled chocolate by the Wonka factory gates? The man slowly advanced, leaning heavily on a thin gold walking stick and favoring his right leg. Nobody had seen Wonka in almost ten years. Was it possible that the young man was lame?

A few steps before he reached the silent crowd, his walking stick got stuck in the paving stones. He fell forward slowly, then performed a neat somersault and landed on his feet in front of the crowd with a smile on his handsome features. Charlie stood on tiptoe to see him, but she still couldn't see him very well. She made out a purple-colored frock coat and brown top hat, but that was all. The applause deafened her as the gates swung open and Willy Wonka skipped merrily out, a grin flitting about his features.

Veruca shoved her way to the front of the line and held out her Golden Ticket. Wonka took it and slid it quickly into his sleeve. "You must be Mr. Salt," he said, shaking Mr. Salt's hand furiously. "Love your peanuts, Mr. Salt. I use them occasionally in my Triple-Whipple-Coated Deluxe Wonka bars. And this must be dear little Veruca." he said, glancing at Veruca fondly. She sneered at him.

"I'm not dear little Veruca! I'm fifteen! Call me Miss Salt. And Daddy - don't shake his hand. It's probably all sticky from chocolate making." Veruca said snobbishly, sweeping past a rather baffled Wonka with the spoiled air of a princess. Mr. Salt awkwardly tipped his hat at the candy man and followed his daughter inside the gates.

"And you must be Mrs. Gloop," Wonka said, shaking Mrs. Gloop's hand. "This well-fed boy must be Augustus," he added, shaking Augustus's hand as well. Augustus patted his stomach.

"I'm hungry!" he whined, his voice masked under a thick German accent. Mrs. Gloop politely shoved him forward, muttering that they would get something to eat as soon as they got inside. Wonka tipped his top hat to them and shook Mr. Beauregard's hand.

"Spiffing, Mr. Beauregard. I saw all of your commercials." Wonka said cheerfully. Mr. Beauregard started chattering about his car salesman business, and Wonka listened politely for a few moments then dismissed him with a wave of his hand. "And this delightful little girl must be Violet," he said.

"What kinda gum yah got?" Violet mumbled around a mouthful of previously mentioned sticky candy. Wonka didn't appear to have heard, and merely patted Violet's head absently.

"Mr. Teevee, charmed," Wonka said, shaking Mr. Teevee's hand. Mike Teevee blasted Wonka with his pistols.

"Bam! You're dead!" Mike squealed in a nasally voice. Wonka clutched his stomach and pretended to fall over, then smiled as he saw Charlie hanging onto Grandpa Joe's hand shyly.

"And you must be Charlotte," he said in a quieter voice. Now that he was close to her, Charlie could see that he was young, handsome, with curly blonde hair and bright blue eyes that were everywhere at once. She shook his hand and a little smile quirked the side of her mouth.

"Yes, Mr. Wonka, I am, but everybody calls me Charlie," she said. "And this is Grandpa Joe."

Grandpa Joe shook Wonka's hand vigorously and Wonka offered his arm to Charlie, who took it with a blush and a smile. Violet pouted and stamped her foot when she saw Mr. Wonka arm and arm with Charlie, and demanded to her father that she wanted to go in the front with Mr. Wonka. Mr. Salt obtained a slight deafness at that moment, and followed Mr. Wonka and Charlie into the Chocolate Factory.