Thank you for all your kind reviews! I wrote this chapter especially for you guys! I think it's a great deal more enjoyable than the last one, but you guys are the judges! Enjoy!

Charlie Bucket smiled softly in his subconscious. He was caught in the divide of dreams and reality, not certain which one he should embrace. On the one hand, it was much easier to dream about school than actually attend it, but on the other, there wasn't any bacon in his reverie.

The boy slowly climbed down from his bedroom and performed some rather impressive stretches, each one sounding a deafening crack. Mrs. Bucket flinched after each one but continued frying up her son's breakfast. After all, Charlie deserved to have a hearty meal his first day of school, he'd gone without one his whole life.

"Good morning, Charlie." Mr. Bucket said from over his newspaper, "Excited about your first day?" Charlie nodded absentmindedly, distracted by the veritable feast before him. As the boy eagerly dug in, Mr. Bucket furrowed his brow in discontent.

"Honey? Did you see this?" he pointed to an article in the local news section. "Did you know they were covering Charlie's first day?"

"What?" Mrs. Bucket and Charlie replied simultaneously.

Mrs. Bucket moved behind her husband and begun reading the story over his shoulder. "Well how does this qualify as news?" she cried.

"It doesn't." Grandpa George said matter-of-factly, "Damn vultures gobble up the slightest scrap of meat they can find wherever that Wonka's concerned. They're just squeezing blood from the stone, and our Charlie's the stone!" he finished, pounding his fist on the bedcovers.

Charlie grew a bit pale at the prospect of being squeezed by the paparazzi.

"Try to be a tad less colorful in your descriptions nest time, Pops." Mr. Bucket whispered to the grumbling man beside him.

Charlie started building a small replica of the chocolate factory out of his breakfast. As if he wasn't worried before…now all of England would be watching.

"Don't be nervous, Charlie." His father said with a plucky smile, "There are always a few reporters hanging around when I go to work each morning. The trick is to ignore them. Don't even say "No questions". It'll only encourage them."

"But--" Charlie protested.

"Listen to your father, Charlie." Aunt Josephine scolded stiffly, "If anyone would know about this mess it would be him. He leaves the factory more than any of us."

"She's right, Charlie." Mrs. Bucket said from the kitchen sink where she had already begun cleaning up. Charlie shifted around in his seat, growing steadily more anxious with each of his relatives assurances. Grandpa Joe knitted his brow with concern upon seeing this.

"Really, Charlie, I know it seems tough now. But I can guarantee it won't be once you get out there." He grasped Charlie's shoulder comfortingly before returning to his bacon and eggs, "Besides, how many people could there be?" he finished with a joking smile.

"Oh my, that's a lot." Grandpa Joe gulped while looking at the sea of spectators and newsmen. It seemed to stretch out forever.

"Oh dear," Mrs. Bucket fretted, knitting her fingers uneasily, "I never would've suspected…that." She turned to her husband expectantly but he was to in awe of the sheer number to comprehend anything else. Out of all of them, Charlie seemed to be the least affected by the crowd. He, unlike the rest of his family, had actually been preparing for the worst. So, instead of panic, he greeted the obstacle with an odd sense of self satisfaction over being right. He continued to watch his elder's frantically debate how they were going to get Charlie out of the gates alive, wondering how adults could argue so long without reaching any solution whatsoever.

"I say we disguise him as another boy!" Grandpa Joe said excitedly, albeit naively, "It's not like they'll be able to tell what he looks like. He never had any publicity photos taken."

Mr. Bucket shook his head somberly and held up the newspaper he had still been holding under his arm. "I'm afraid that's out of the question. These people dug up Charlie's old school photos." Mrs. Bucket brought her palm to her face and muttered something about the 'indecency of media', "He actually has a legion of fans, if you can believe it." Mr. Bucket continued with incredulity.

Indeed, upon looking outside the window for the fifth time, Charlie could see little 'We Love You Charlie' signs dotting the crowd. The only thing that out numbered them were 'Marry Me Willy!' banners.

"Oh bother…" the boy said with irritation, "Mr. Wonka won't like this at all…"

"What won't I like?" Willy asked, appearing almost magically beside the boy.

"Ah!" Charlie yelped in surprise before instinctively jumping in front of the window they had all been looking out. But this attempt was futile in the end considering Willy, who had a good foot on Charlie, had to do nothing more than peer over his apprentice to get a view out the window.

"Oh…" he said with a grimace and large, worried, eyes. The Bucket's hesitated for a bit, waiting to hear more of Willy's response. When none came, Grandpa Joe spoke up gleefully with an idea.

"What about the back door? I doubt there will be as many people there. Charlie may have to walk a little further but--"

"There isn't a back door." Mr. Wonka said curtly, still upset about the media fiasco unfolding outside his factory's gates.

"No back door?" Grandpa Joe asked in disbelief, more surprised than disappointed about his idea's failure.

"I didn't see the purpose…" Mr. Wonka said softly, flinching inwardly as a few woman tried to scale his fence.

"The man has a field of bloody sugar grass and doesn't see the purpose of a back door." Mr. Bucket whispered to his wife, which she returned with a sharp jab of her elbow.

"You know, Mr. Wonka, you don't have to come outside to see me off. I understand why you wouldn't want to…" Charlie faded off, acting much more passive aggressive than he had originally intended intended.

"Really? Oh that's great, Charlie! I knew you'd understand! Good luck facing those reporters, they can be quite grabby!" He started walking away quickly before a hand caught his collar making him stop in his tracks, not to mention gag unpleasantly.

"Willy?" Mrs. Bucket said expectantly, her hand still grasping his coat, "Are you sure you want to go just yet? Don't you remember having some sort of gift prepared? Hmmm…?" Willy, not to mention Charlie, Mr. Bucket and Grandpa Joe, looked shocked at the woman's forcefulness. Though, oddly enough, he felt obligated to obey her.

"Heh…yes you are correct. I don't have it on me now though. Can you all please excuse me while I go and, uh, get it?" the choclatier choked out as best he could while Mrs. Bucket held his collar. Mrs. Bucket nodded and released him. The man sped off like a shot out of a gun, leaving the rest to stare at Mrs. Bucket, awestruck.

"Well, shouldn't we be getting downstairs? I can imagine that's where Willy plans to meet us." The woman said cheerfully before heading for the glass elevator.

The family waited in the foyer for quite a bit, each of them thankful they had decided to have Charlie leave for school earlier rather than later. There had been general discussion about how they were going to get Charlie out of the crowd relatively quickly between the adults and Charlie had been essentially ignored, giving him some time to mull over the days events.

He wasn't really surprised about the media field day outside. He had been in the news through some way or other all summer, ever since his house had been airlifted into the factory. Mr. and Mrs. Bucket felt it was wise to refrain from doing this until Charlie was out of school for the year, much to the chagrin of Mr. Wonka, Charlie and Grandpa Joe. Charlie had come to visit of course but the whole thing had been done with an element of secrecy. Of course, when a helicopter rips up your house at the foundation and drops in through the roof of a factory, secrets have a way of getting out. Not only was there the excitement of Charlie's first official leave of the factory, speculations over why Charlie had switched schools were setting the paparazzi abuzz.

It was true, Charlie had switched from his old school district to a new, private one. There hadn't been much reason not to. Charlie hadn't had any real friends there and the school itself would sway slightly with every passing breeze. Mr. and Mrs. Bucket had told Mr. Wonka about this and they had gradually convinced him that Freemount Prep was the best place for Charlie to expand his education (Willy had originally planned to correct the problem by eliminating school from Charlie's schedule entirely) and that they needed his help financially to send him here. Never the less, the media had found this piece of information quite juicy and printed up all sorts of articles about the Bucket's mooching off Willy Wonka's hospitality. Charlie recalled with amusement when Mr. Wonka had obtained one of these articles and believed every word. It had taken the Bucket's the entire evening to convince him otherwise.

Charlie had been indifferent to the entire thing. In truth, he disliked both schools. One had been full of children who would spit in your face one day and hug you the next (depending on how much money you had come across in that time). The other, as far as he could gather from the brochure, was pretentious and stiff. But he didn't really have a choice in the matter.

The sound of scrunching plastic and occasional pops took Charlie out of his thoughts and he turned around to see what was making all the noise.

There stood his mentor, wrapped in yards and yards of bubble wrap, his face glowing with a triumphant smile. Mr. and Mrs. Bucket looked dumbfounded, Grandpa Joe was about to split a seam and Charlie didn't look surprised at all.

"What?" Willy cried defensively, unable to comprehend why anyone would think his armor was out of the ordinary.

"Nothing, Willy." Mrs. Bucket said apologetically, trying to hide her own smirk, "I assume this means you'll be joining us outside after all?"

"Well, ya!" He said matter-of-factly, "I wouldn't waste all that time putting it on if I wasn't!" he finished with a good natured giggle before turning to Charlie. "I bet you're wondering what that gift your Mom talked about is, huh? Huh?" Mr. Wonka said excitedly albeit a little too eagerly.

To tell the truth, Charlie had forgotten about his mother's mention of a gift from Willy. His worry about school and the paparazzi was eclipsing every other emotion he may have had, including excitement. However, telling Mr. Wonka this wouldn't do at all.

"Of course I am!" the boy said with ample enthusiasm and a toothy, false, grin. The boy laughed at himself upon realizing he'd probably picked this trick up from Mr. Wonka himself.

"Well, dear boy, here you are!" The man exclaimed excitedly while trying to gesture towards an Oompa Loompa carrying a brightly wrapped package, although ultimately failing due to the constrictiveness of the bubble wrap.

Charlie took the package and thanked the Oompa Loompa with the traditional Loompian salute, which the little man returned before jumping down a trap door to another area of the factory (Charlie assumed, by the color of the man's suit, it was the Licorice Rope Weaving Room).

Charlie opened the package swiftly, which was hard to do considering the many ribbons and bows that adorned it. His fake smile had turned slowly into a real one as he clawed away at the wrapping paper.

Inside, wrapped in a very fine tissue paper was an emerald frockcoat, not much different from Willy's own. Charlie lifted it out of the box excitedly and showed it proudly to his parents who nodded and smiled.

"Well, don't just stand there like some old stick in the mud! Try it on!" Willy shouted, jumping from one foot to the other, or at the very least attempting to.

Charlie did so without hesitation. However, when he draped the coat over himself, it became clear something wasn't quite right.

"It's a little big, isn't it?" Charlie asked innocently. Actually, 'a little' was a large understatement. The sleeves hung over his hangs, obscuring them from view. And the coat itself was only two or three inches off the ground.

"Oh dear, that's not how it was supposed to go at all!" Willy cried huffily, crossing his arms childishly.

Mrs. Bucket, who had been rummaging around in the pockets of her dress from the moment Charlie donned the coat, rushed up to him with five safety pins. She immediately went to work on it, occasionally muttering, "See? That hitches up right there…." As suddenly as she had begun, she pulled away to admire her handiwork. "There! Fits like a glove!" she said proudly. That was a bit of an overstatement. The jacket did 'fit' but the random pleats and folds in the fabric exuded anything but elegance. But it was certainly an improvement.

"Well, look at that!" Mr. Wonka said happily, "I would applaud you, Mrs. Bucket, but this stuff doesn't really allow it." He still tried to do so, though, resulting in an awkward sort of dance. "Oh, and sorry about the size. I sent an Oompa Loompa to take your measurements but a few minutes after I realized what an awful, terrible, stupid, surprise-ruining mistake that had been. Lucky for me I managed to catch up with him. Boy was I sore after that! I must learn to take better care of myself, running is just detrimental to ones health, remember that, Charlie." He finished with a somber face that, Charlie could only assume, he thought made him look wise.

"Thank you Mr. Wonka." Chalie said politely. "Oh, and thank you too Mum." He added quickly after being elbowed by Grandpa Joe. "I'm sure I'll grow into this eventually."

"That's the spirit! I, uh, could make you another one though, it you wanted it that is." Willy trailed off nervously.

"No, this is fine, Mr. Wonka. It'll last longer this way." Charlie said courteously.

Mr. Bucket shifted from foot to foot, "I hate to burst everyone's bubble but isn't it a bit warm out for a coat? Winter doesn't start for another month or so."

Willy smiled slyly and his eyes twinkled like they always did when he was about to share the secret of one of his inventions. "Well, it's like this; I aerate, ventilate and otherwise condition the heck out of these coats. It makes em' nice and cool in any temperature. How else could I wear a coat in here?" He said smugly.

"What about winter?" Mr. Bucket asked.

"What?" Mr. Wonka asked sharply.

"If the coat stay's cool all the time isn't it useless in winter?" He continued. Willy pursed his lips unpleasantly and narrowed his eyes his eyes ever so slightly before answering.

"You wear another coat over it. Duh." He said with arms folded.

Charlie, the eternal diplomat, broke the uncomfortable silence quickly, "Say, shouldn't we be getting out there soon?" He gestured to the front door.

"Oh dear, oh dear..." Mrs. Bucket said anxiously, "With all this commotion about gifts I'd forgotten we were down her for a reason!" She laughed in spite of herself, "Come on Charlie, we've wasted enough time as it is."

The mother, the father, the old man and the heir walked outside quickly, leaving the bubble-wrapped chocolatier to waddle after them as best he could.

Well, that was a long one. Truth be told, it used to be even longer. It flows much nicer as two chapters. Please tell me what you think!