Summary: Are thirteen days' worth of memories enough to bridge a chasm three years wide? Klaus and Clara's reunion after the Unhappy Ending.

Notes: Shameless fix-it. And of course, spoilers for the Unhappy Ending. (If you're curious, I've uploaded the video of this ending to my channel on Youtube; username Papaya Jane.) This was actually meant to be the first chapter of a longer, angstier story where Clara actually does NOT return to the Academy, but I wanted to publish this happy version in case the sad story never got told.

Out of the countless times that Klaus had imagined this day, he had never once thought he'd be nervous.

He'd endured the endless ache of the last three years, working gradually but inexorably towards this goal. The day of their reunion had been the carrot that had kept him moving – kept him hoping – and now, it should have been like emerging from a tunnel of darkness. Instead of the sunshine, though, all he felt was the uncertainty of a strange new world. As he walked down the cobblestone path in a tiny village in the prefecture of Reitz, the simmering anxiety refused to go away.

His surroundings were idyllic enough: a stone path, storybook cottages, fields of flowers. Around him the sound of cowbells resounded from the hillsides, and happy bumblebees droned as they swayed in the air, drunk on honey and sunshine. Klaus harnessed his legendary focus and attempted to let these things soothe him – but then the sight of the little blue cottage came into view and he felt his heart rise into his throat.

This was it.

It felt surreal to be here, in this little village in the mountains. Stepping into this sun-drenched world, it was as if he'd entered a kingdom of Clara's own making. The rules that he'd lived by – magic and self-discipline – had evaporated, and he was surrounded by a sort of timeless, sleepy contentment that suffused everything around him.

Before him, the little blue cottage stood. He couldn't help but notice the imperfections – a crooked step, a clumsily patched roof – every one of them evidence of her hand. He did not need to see the little unicorn carved into a sign above the door to know that it was hers; he could feel Clara's magic surrounding it, as if it poured out the windows. His breath hitched as he felt the gentle, warm essence of that magic again. And then something in him that had been roiling and disturbed for three long years finally slowed and settled into place.

He knocked.

No response.

Of course, Klaus thought in exasperation, she wouldn't have the decency to be actually home after he'd journeyed so far to find her. She'd never made it easy for him; why start now?

He tried the door and found it locked. Irritated, he drew out his wand, muttering a quick word, and the door clicked open obligingly. He gently pushed it open and walked inside.

His first impression was of a dark, cluttered but cozy space. Then immediately he smelled cookies, and his attention was immediately drawn to the tiny kitchen, where a baking sheet sat on a rack, holding four chocolate chip cookies – clearly what remained of an original dozen. Klaus helped himself to one without hesitation. He'd barely been able to eat on the train ride over, and after three years, the least she could offer him was a cookie, he reasoned.

Appetite momentarily sated, he moved around the rest of the space. Stuffed animals of all kinds, many of them old. Sewing supplies, and a few incomplete projects, tucked into a wicker basket. A shelf of novels and storybooks, but below them, a surprising number of magical textbooks. Had she been studying? An upright piano – did she play? In their short time together, he'd never asked, and he wondered what else about her was still unknown to him. A teapot, and a tin of tea – he sniffed. Assam tea. He closed his eyes, the aroma filling his senses, taking him back to his old Prefect's office, with her peering up at him, half-terrified, half-determined –

He opened his eyes, and put the tin back.

Passing her desk, he stopped short. There, pinned right above, was a very familiar newspaper article, and in the accompanying photograph, his own face looked out at him, impatient, and a little desolate. Klaus remembered that interview well – it had been one of his bad days, or else he would never had mentioned her, and let that little snippet get into the media. He'd been bothered for weeks by women trying to figure out the identity of his missing love.

And here it was, the photograph and article hanging in front of her desk where she could see it every single day.

And then behind him, the door opened with a bang.

"Sagitta Lumen!"

He jerked in surprise, but before he could get his wand in hand, several light arrows flew from behind him into the fabric of his coat, pinning him face-first against the wall. Then he felt power coalescing, and a muttered "Turbos Ventos," accompanied by a swirling wind that stirred everything around them. She was protecting herself the way he'd taught her so many years ago, the same way she'd once protected a unicorn.

"I don't want to hurt you," she began, and his heart began to ache at the sound of her voice, through the barrier of wind. "But who are you and what are you doing in my house?"

It was her. Her voice sounded different, lower and huskier and a little frightened. He felt a swell of guilt – he had invaded her privacy without a second thought, and now she was afraid. It was not how he'd imagined this would go.

"Don't make me laugh, Bunnyhead. I doubt you could hurt me if you tried," he answered. He heard her gasp, and the arrows began to quiver, losing some of their energy. The wind also died down, her barrier clearly having gone out in her surprise. With the slackening arrows, he could move a little, finally getting to his wand. "Quies," he muttered, and the arrows faded entirely, before he turned around.

There she was. It was undoubtedly Clara. But the only image he'd ever had of her in his head was now three years old, and she was clearly no longer the pigtailed little troublemaker that he'd known. Her hair was completely down, long and silken, to the middle of her back. It framed her face, making her look older, less of the cute teen and more a young woman. And it was indeed a woman that looked back at him, taller and even lovelier than he remembered.

"Three years, and the first thing you do is attack me? Not the welcome I was expecting," he teased, his voice light and sardonic even as his heart grew heavy at this first sight of her. After a few moments, he grew worried when she didn't seem to respond. "Clara?"

She stared at him in disbelief, and suddenly her knees gave way and she sank onto the floor. "K-Klaus?"

"Clara," he repeated hoarsely, and he dropped all pretense, unable to hold back anymore. He moved towards her, big strides covering the distance between them, until he was close enough to join her where she knelt on the ground and wrap his arms around her. "Clara," he murmured again into her hair, and he squeezed her against him, feeling the soft, warm weight of her. She was here…she was here.

"Klaus…" she choked on a sob as her stiffness finally dissipated and her arms moved up around his waist. "Klaus…Klaus…" He felt her tears soak into his shirt, wet upon his skin.

"You little idiot," he growled, as he squeezed at her even more tightly. She squeaked in surprise. "How could you do that to me," he muttered. "Just leave me there without a word…"

"S-sorry," she whispered, tears flowing anew. "I-I'm s-so sorry…I-I couldn't…I didn't want to…"

"Little moron," he murmured, voice warm with the relief of being with her again. He stroked her hair, loving the feel of it unbound, flowing through his fingers. "I'm never letting you do that again, you hear me? Never…"

He'd promised himself that he would be restrained, that the three intervening years might have changed what had been tentatively wrought between them long ago, that she might have changed, might have met someone – might have married, even. But here, in her space, surrounded by her magic, and then seeing the little reminders of him everywhere –

He kissed her. He couldn't help it. It was unlike any kiss they'd shared – this one nearly savage with the intensity of a claim, yet deep with longing. She gasped into the kiss, and he felt her fingers clutch at his shift, felt her tears on his face where their faces touched. His hand moved to stroke her cheeks, wiping away the traces of tears. His mouth grew gentler, as he felt her respond tentatively, to him, and the kiss became a caress.

She made a sound – a little moan. Maybe it was completely unintentional. But the instant he heard it, suddenly his whole body heated, and he became deeply aware of her soft, warm body in his arms. She felt so good, and he wanted to –

She pulled back and he almost growled in frustration, but when she looked up at him, he couldn't help but smirk. Her cheeks were flaming red. She was as shy as ever.

"Klaus…what are you doing here?"

He snorted. "Still acting the moron, hm?"

"H-hey!"

He laughed because he couldn't help it, and because he missed that angry little shout. He gestured to the newspaper clipping over her desk. Clara's cheeks burned.

"You saw that, huh…" Then suddenly she glared at him. "What were you thinking? Showing up and breaking into my house!"

Klaus rolled his eyes. "You weren't here when I arrived. What was I supposed to do?"

"M-Maybe wait outside, like a normal person!"

He smirked. "I ate a cookie," he confessed, and she groaned.

"W-What?! I was saving those for later!" She gave him a look of frustration, her hands on her hips, and suddenly she giggled, and then he was laughing too, harder than he'd laughed for three years, since the morning when he'd searched the campus and found that she'd gone, and left a gaping hole there in his life.

And now, he finally felt whole.

After they finally subsided, Clara stood in a fluid, feminine motion that caused her skirt to swirl around her, distractingly. "Would you like some tea?"

"I'll make it for us," he offered immediately.

Clara smiled. "Of course…your tea was the best! I'll get some more food out, and then we can talk."

He busied himself in the tea preparations as she moved about the house, cleaning things up. It was Clara, for sure, but there was an element of strangeness about the whole experience, a growing dissonance between the excitable Clara of his memories and the lithe young woman before him now. She moved with more grace, as she tidied pillows and tucked away dishes into drawers. And she was lovely. She'd always been pretty before, but now she seemed so radiant that it was difficult to look away from her. He couldn't seem to look enough, devouring with his eyes the lines of her body. She was beautiful, and so familiar, and so strange, and he wanted to touch her again.

"Klaus?"

"What?" he snapped, masking his jolt of surprise with his customary irritation. She was staring back at him, blushing.

"I-I think the water's ready," she ventured, and he almost cursed aloud because she was right, and he'd almost ruined his tea in his inattention. He moved on with steeping the tea leaves, and she set out two plates with the remaining cookies – two for him, one for her. From a covered dish that he hadn't noticed before, she withdrew a slice of chiffon cake and set it next to his plate.

They sat down. As Klaus bit into a cookie, he watched Clara close her eyes, bringing her teacup to her nose. She inhaled slowly, mouth curving into a sensuous smile as she breathed the aroma in. "Mmm.." she exhaled, her voice low and husky. And Klaus had to look away, because something had snapped to attention within him – and it was far too soon.

They spoke of his work, of graduating from the academy and his duties at the Ministry. Though he hadn't become a professor, Klaus now worked within the education department of the Ministry, overseeing magical education standards at various schools. Clara inquired about Elias, who was preparing to spend his next year in his brother's footsteps as Prefect. And Klaus' family had grown; his elder brother and the mysterious Miss Elaine had married and already had one child, another Goldstein boy that promised to be as blond and handsome as all those who came before him.

And then Clara spoke. She'd studied hard on her own, and acted as a village healer now, able to heal more than just animals. Klaus smiled proudly – he'd noticed the shortened incantation the moment she'd attacked him with those arrows, indicative of a skill level she'd never before mastered. There was an odd feeling in his heart though, when he remembered the unpredictable nature of her magic that long time ago: how inanimate things sprouted to life, how animals were randomly summoned, how spells became tangled with other spells, and then the unexpected discovery of her time travel ability. He guessed she'd still had a ways to go in her education – you could only get so far alone – but it was clear that Clara today was a completely different wizardess from the little novice he'd met.

It made him a little sad, that he'd missed being the one to guide her there, just as it made him deeply proud that she'd gotten to this point, all on her own.

And then, after they had finished their tea and cookies and cake, Clara looked to him with serious eyes. "Klaus…"

"Yes?"

"Why are you really here?"

Klaus scowled. "Didn't you read the interview? I already told you. I'm here to get you."

A look of confusion passed over her face. "To get me? What do you mean?"

He smiled. "Thick-headed as ever, I see. I guess showing this to you would help you understand." And from within his jacket, he pulled out a very familiar letter.

"Well, hello young lady! It's good to see you again! Do you remember me?"

He would complain later that her shriek of joy had deafened his eardrums, but at that moment, there was nothing sweeter than that sound, and her expression, brighter and more beautiful than a star, and the feeling of her tucked right back into his arms, laughing and crying and swearing again and again, that this was it, and she wouldn't mess up this time.

"Stay with me," he murmured. "This time…Clara…no matter what. It doesn't matter what happens." He sat down on a dining chair, settling her in his lap. "Don't leave again. I don't think – " He hesitated, his voice dropping low. "I don't think I could stand it again."

"I won't," she whispered. "I'll stay with you no matter what. I promise."

"Good."

And she smiled. "But…I'm better now. I'm not going to fail the trial this time! I swear!"

"That's right," Klaus affirmed, looking down at her meaningfully. "You'll pass it this time."

Clara froze, peering up at him. "Oh, no…does that mean…"

Klaus picked her up effortlessly, a devilish smirk gracing his features. "The only reason you failed last time is because you didn't work hard enough. I live right in town, you know. So you're not getting out of special training. Forget about it. You're going to pass that trial if it's the last thing you do."

"Awwww…"

And then, his heart feeling lighter than it had in years, he kissed her again.