A/N: Well, I figured that before I went into writing any original characters, I should at least play with some of the ones already presented in the movie. Depp!Wonka, based on the new movie. Mild Ms. Beauregarde/Wonka.

I don't like this too much, so I'll probably try again, but I'd like to know what you all think of Ms. Beauregarde's characterization – I tried to make her less... less of whatever she was in the movie. Just a smidge. I'm also not sure about Wonka's characterization, but I never could do crazy people well. This takes place just before Violet eats the gum.

"Mr. Wonka," a breathy, feminine, inherently grating voice called, and it took all of Wonka's willpower to not cringe at the sound.

Since he didn't have any willpower, he cringed openly, and turned, forcing a smile that made his gums hurt. "Yes? Everything all right, then?"

Violet Beauregarde's mother stood in front of the chocolatier, normally wide and glassy eyes half-lidded and cloudy. "Mr. Wonka, I was just wondering about this..." She took a step forward, and Wonka took a quick step backwards. "This prize that you're giving out."

"O...Oh?" he whimpered, feeling overwhelmed by the woman's forceful presence. He smiled, weakly, clearly not liking being so close to Ms. Beuregarde. "I...Now, why would you want to spoil a surprise? Heh, you're funny." He made a desperate attempt to flee, but she touched – just touched – his jacket, and he froze up in confusion.

"Oh, I promise not to tell Violet. And besides, we both know she's going to win it..."

"D...Do we, now?" Wonka whimpered, smile turning frantic as his eyes darted to look at the children all swarming around various inventions of his. "Well, I don't know – competition looks to be very..."

"I'm sure we could make an arrangement."

Wonka might've been a bit blockheaded when it came to anything sexual, but he knew a come-on when he heard one. The fact that those nails were digging lightly into his arm were also proof that he couldn't just dash away from the woman.

"That would be cheating, Mrs. Beauregarde," Wonka responded, enunciating "Mrs." to show that he knew it would be cheating in a few different ways.

"Oh," she laughed, "It's Ms. I'm divorced." She was giving him a look that crossed the line between seductive and drugged, and Wonka had to get away now.

"I'm sorry, Ms. Beauregarde, but I think... oh, yes, I think that Mr. Salt is calling for me..."

"No he isn't," she said soothingly, pushing Wonka back a little. He gulped; he did not like being placed so closely between a wall and a woman of Ms. Beauregarde's... caliber. "Look, my Vi's a winner. She's always been a winner, and always will be a winner. And I'd like to take a little credit for some of her successes. Now, no one back then regretted it, and you won't either. I promise you that."

Willy Wonka was getting propositioned by a prospective heir's mother.

If he wasn't so completely terrified he would have been hysterical.

He needed all of his courage and strength to get this woman away, because she was seriously messing with his creativity. "I'm sorry, Ms. Beauregarde," he finally muttered, and all of his courage and strength went into the words. "I can't let Violet win if she doesn't deserve it. No amount of... bribing," he winced as he said the word, "Can change that fact."

He was surprised when the woman let go of him and turned around sharply, bending her head down and covering her eyes with a perfect hand. And he wasn't sure if he really heard it, or if he was just imagining it, but he thought he heard her give a stiff, quiet sob, like someone who had resigned themselves to doing something but still got turned down.

"Um." Wonka hadn't been around a crying woman before, and though he had seen people comfort others on the streets, he couldn't bring himself to do the same – not when a single touch was both revolting and like an invite for more touching. "I...?"

"You...You won't..." She turned back and he felt his entire face twitch. She looked like she had poured water in perfect tracks on her face – he idly wondered if maybe the tears had just worn themselves a groove over the years. "You won't even sleep with me just because?" she whined, in a small and incredibly vunerable voice. He blinked, eyebrows raising and eyes widening.

"What? I... Where..."

"You could've just done it and then not let it affect the whole thing! But you didn't even want that!"

Mike Teevee's father looked at the two, raising his eyebrows slightly, and Wonka, desperate, put a hand on the suddenly sobbing woman's shoulder, shaking his head.

"Shh, shh! No, that's... It's... I don't..." It was incredibly awkward to say something that he didn't really think about enough to be certain of. "I don't do things like that, Ms. Beauregarde. I'm sorry, but I don't."

She looked up at him, tears still making perfect lines down her perfect cheeks. "You... you don't?" She sounded shocked – she even looked dumbstruck at the idea of a grown man not... doing that kind of thing.

"No, I don't," he responded, shaking his head. "And I especially don't use people like that! Now, I think you should go and watch your girl, who is, most probably, getting into quite a bit of trouble."

She shook her head, then nodded, and sniffed, wiping her face with her sleeve.

"I'm sorry," she muttered, shaking her head again and laughing, the sound straining in her throat. "I don't know what's come over me. Oh..." Her eyes had caught Violet, who was poking around at something that she shouldn't have been. "Oh, Violet don't touch that!" she exclaimed, and moved off quickly.

"Women, huh?"

Wonka jumped, and looked at Mr. Teevee, who was watching Ms. Beauregarde run off to her daughter. He frowned, but Mr. Teevee waved a hand. "I don't think my son is going to win whatever your prize is. Sorry about that, but he's not enough of... he's not enough of a kid, if you can understand that." The older man sighed, and then shuffled away from the man, muttering about "kids these days."

Willy Wonka sighed, and mentally crossed out two children.

"Women," he muttered, shaking his head, before shuddering involuntarily. "I hope she didn't give me cooties..."

Feedback appreciated – I know it's a horrible ending, but I couldn't fix it any more.