New chapter! I know, aren't you excited? It's a bit short but this chapter will most likely throw most of you for a loop. It will probably seem somewhat out of place next to the last chapter, but it will make sense in the big picture! At least…I hope it will. Please enjoy!

Authors notes and review thank you's will be at the bottom.

A few days had passed since Mr. Willy Wonka had been informed of the fast approaching school year, and since then things had not been going to well. His tower room had been getting its most use since Charlie had turned down his original offer of the chocolate factory. And the strangest things seemed to be triggering flashbacks. It had been and overall unpleasant experience.

He tasted a bit of lemon flavored fungus absentmindedly while he peered over the edge of his double fudge cliff, observing the crown jewel of his factory, the chocolate river.

"It's running a bit slow..." he mused, whipping out a small red leather notebook and jotting the problem down.

"Mr. Wonka?" a voice from below shouted. Willy, who was quite startled, jumped, let out a small cry and would've went the way of Augustus had he not grabbed a hold of a gummi tree just in time.

"Mr. Wonka? Are you up here?" the voice said again, becoming progressively closer until Charlie appeared beside him on the cliff top. "There you are, I was calling you before. Did you hear me?"

"Yeah, a bit." The paler than usual Wonka breathed tensely.

"Well, Mum was wondering if you wanted to help her gather dessert. But if you're busy, I'm sure she'll manage." He finished politely, figuring that Mr. Wonka was taking this evening as 'alone time'.

"No trouble at all, dear boy," he answered with a flash of white teeth, "besides, I'm not certain your mother could manage it without me." He boasted with a snigger. The man wasn't modest by nature (although he would tell you different) and his arrogance reached a new level where sweets were concerned.

"Great!" Charlie said in his usual hushed tone, "Shall we go then?" Willy smiled toothlessly and walked towards the cliffs edge silently, ignoring him completely. Charlie followed him, trying to figure out what he was staring at so intently.

During the day, the Chocolate Room was striking. But the only time its true beauty showed was dusk. Due to Wonkas striving conquest for absurd realism, the lights would gradually turn orange around seven o'clock and then slowly dim until only a single 'Moon-lamp' (so named by Charlie) would illuminate the room. The effect was breathtaking.

Charlie was engulfed in the golden light, lost in the view. He turned towards Willy to comment on the scene, only to find the chocolatier missing from his spot.

"Last one to the house is a blueberry!" Wonka cried from halfway down the cliffs slope, waggling his cane in the air tauntingly. Charlie grinned excitedly and followed him across the rolling hills of the factory. The race quickly evolved into a game of chase, each of them desperately trying to avoid the house lest ending the game. Willy had become so wrapped up that looking where he was going become a second priority to out running Charlie.

"Boys are you out here?" he asked from the front yard of his house. His answer came in the form of a sidelong collision with Mr. Wonka.

"Hello, Willy." A pinned Mr. Bucket said with a weak smile.

"Hehe…hi." Willy replied timidly giving a small wave before lifting himself up and freeing the man.

Charlie rushed over to his father, an expression of fear and guilt on his small face. "Dad, are you alright?" he asked, frantically helping him up, "I'm sorry, we were just messing about. It was my fault really. You didn't break anything did you?" Charlie continued with lightning quickness, too afraid at what his father might say to let him actually speak.

Mr. Bucket chuckled a bit and rubbed his back, wincing at the bruise he felt. "There's nothing your mother won't be able to fix, Charlie. Just pay a bit more attention where you play next time. And that goes double for you Willy." Charlie looked relieved, albeit still responsible. Mr. Wonka bit his lip nervously and started to sweat at the reprimand he had received, however good natured it had been.

"Were you going to stay for dinner? Mrs. Bucket was hoping you could help her out a bit." Mr. Bucket asked kindly while ruffling Charlie's hair in an attempt to assure the boy that he wasn't in any trouble.

Willy was still frozen. He could feel his hands becoming clammy and clenched them into fists with an audible scrunch. "Um…actually..." He said softly with a strained giggle, "I don't think I'll be able to tonight. I suddenly feel a bit under the weather…"

"But, you said-" Charlie protested.

"I know I said I'd be able to make it…and…and…" Willy started groaning obnoxiously and entered into a few sporadic coughing fits, "I really wish I could. Maybe tomorrow." He finished solemnly.

"Are you sure, Willy? Mrs. Bucket's making stew. It might do you some good." Mr. Bucket suggested.

"No, no, thank you, but no. I really thing I should lie down a bit." He started lurching in a way reminiscent of a cat coughing up a fur ball. "Tell Mrs. Bucket and the old ones I said hi." And with that he limped off towards the nearest glass elevator shaft, ridding up until he reached his special place.

His eyes widened as soon as he stepped off the platform. A barrage of unpleasant flashbacks recounting the lectures his father had given him as a boy surround his mind, and blocked out the surrounding world. One memory in particular stuck in his mind and had been put on an endless loop.

The week had been particularly wet and little Willy Wonka was working busily at his desk, oiling his braces. The tiny oil can had been the only present he had received for his birthday that morning. He'd even had to buy the oil himself on the way home from school. But it wasn't the lack of presents and consistently terrible weather that made Willy hate his birthdays. He hated it because the date on his birth certificate was the same as the one on his mother's death certificate.

Sharing ones birthday with a natural disaster or thoroughly hated holiday was bad in its own right but couldn't compare to Willy's troubles.

His father, who had stopped showing visible affection when Willy turned four, became even more withdrawn whenever his sons birthday rolled around. He'd leave his sons present (the gifts were always practical, albeit unappealing to children) on Willy's desk early in the morning and then roam around the top floor of their house for the rest of the day. It was rare for Willy to see any traces of his father other than the faint sound of pacing overhead. But this birthday was different.

"William!" his father bellowed from above Willy's head, making him appear everywhere at once. "William, what is this?" he shouted again, his footsteps growing louder by the second before appearing in his doorway, silhouetted ominously by the hall light behind him.

Willy gulped as best he could when he saw the small red notebook in his fathers hands and concluded that if there was anytime to tell his father about his chocolate fascination, now was it. Besides, the only thing his father hated worse than bad teeth was a liar. "They're my candy notes, sir."

"C-candy notes? What on earth-I bought you this for writing down school assignments. And you use it for candy notes?" His father seemed to be so overcome with rage his usually clear speech was choppy and unrefined. This wasn't the case, but Willy was too young to see anything more than anger.

"It's important to me! Not that you would care! You don't even like me!" Willy shouted back, immediately regretting it.

In a flash, to quick for either of them to comprehend, Dr. Wonka slapped his son across the face. The slap itself wasn't that hard, but because of Willy's razor sharp headgear, it left a shallow, but awful looking, cut across Willy's cheek.

As quickly as he had struck his son, Dr. Wonka drew his hand back in horror and rushed out of the room. Willy wouldn't hear a thing from his father for several days, even the gentle tap-tapping on his ceiling was missing. Fortunately for Willy, he had awoken the next day to find some antiseptic and bandages on his desk right next to his little oil can. Needless to say, things changed between the two. Willy was as obedient as possible without giving up chocolate and Dr. Wonka stayed as far away from his son, both physically and emotionally, as possible. And so their lives continued until the day the left each other.

However, the man standing in his tower sanctuary didn't recall the horrified look of his father or his shy attempts to help.

For you see, Willy Wonka had passed out the moment he remembered the cold sting of his fathers hand on his face.

I hope you enjoyed that! It's a little weird, I know, but I wanted to introduce the subplot (Yes, there is a subplot. I'm getting more ambitious and it frightens me ).

Review Thank You's:

Firstly, I would like to say how nice it's been getting your feedback. And I was right about the pressure thing! Onto the thank you's!

Nautical Acronym: Thanks for the praise! And props to you, you're my first reviewer .

BlueKlearWater: Thanks!

Valerie Phoenixfire: Aw, me too! That's why I was so glad when I found yours!

Lauryn-Elsa: That is a tough request…especially for me 'Official Queen of Melodrama!' But I will do my very best to keep it in character throughout and not make too many complete downer chapters (if any at all crosses fingers for unattainable goal).

mage of the winter: Thanks, although I don't know how long you'll continue you liking this fic if you don't like sad-Wonka stories. Although, this seems like a good time to make the point, I plan to make Wonka reactions as humorous as I can. Promise!

Oh, and I like my Alice Cooper line too! I never expected to have so much in common.

Princess Persephone: I remember my first time seeing it…ah what a night, and it's still just as good the next time is still on a sugar high from seeing it the fifth time this afternoon. Oh, and about your questions, all in good time.

Wicked Seraphina: I agree, that scene was adorable, he was just so cute. That's one of my favorite Wonka looks in the movie! (My absolute favorite is when he opens the gate in the squirrel room and looks all sinister. It sends shivers down my spine every time. )

graceofnight: Thanks!

Melantha Nocture: Thanks! Hehe, you called me on the comma thing. I spilt a few into my tea before writing that chapter and was on a frenzy the entire time. Although I did try to tone it down a bit this chapter. Let me know if I was successful.

Felicisgranted: Thanks! I'm glad you can picture it well, I don't think I'm very good at imagery, but am glad you think otherwise!

Telanu: Wow, you hit the nail on the head with those observations. That's what I was worried about getting across. Thanks for the encouragement!

BloodRoses1619: Aw! hugs you back but gets pricked I guess they call you BloodRoses for a reason…and not that wasn't it, as you can see above . I'm glad you like it so far!

christianrockstar: Thanks! I hope you enjoyed it!

onnawufei: Thanks! I was worried about keeping them in character. Thanks for the praise!

Crimson Gypsy: Wow thanks! That's a big bundle of praise! And yeah, I really like the exchange with Mrs. Bucket and Willy too. I think I may have written this fic just to put that in there .

Sephia Mortis: Dear Reviewer, THANKS FOR THE ENCOURAGEMENT! You had an interesting observation too…all you guys/gals (lets face it, mostly gals) are a smart crowd.

Oracle Phoenix: Thanks for you very kind review! You pretty much hit the nail on the head when it came to the plot. Ordinary school gets exposed to a boy who lives in an eccentric and mystical fantasy. I sure hope the kids don't make fun of him…oops, I think I may have said to much.

Thank you to all of you! Keep putting that pressure on me!