Invisible String | TVD x WIZARDING WORLD

SHE WAS A STRANGER. HE BECAME HER HOME.

The morning was quiet.
Unnaturally, eerily quiet.
The kind of silence that made you question whether you were waking up at home... or lying six feet under.
Damon Salvatore shifted slightly under the thin sheet draped across him. It wasn't the kind of shift a vampire made — that predator's instinct of snapping to alertness at the smallest noise. No, this was different. A sluggish, bone-deep weariness clung to him, heavier than any hangover he'd ever nursed but last night had been a mess. A "Elena-earning-Damon's-trust-just-to-shatter-it" kind of night. A "Katherine's-not-in-the-damn-tomb" kind of night.
And him? He was a fool. A bigger one than he cared to admit.
The memories itched at him, pulling him toward consciousness, but he resisted, curling tighter into the bed, chasing the illusion of peace for just a little longer.
Something pressed against him.
Small. Warm. Insistent.
Without thinking, Damon's body responded. His arm curled tighter around the source of warmth, drawing it instinctively closer. He buried his face in the soft material of the pillow, letting out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.
And then —
A sound.
Soft. Fragile. A tiny sigh that barely disturbed the air.
Damon froze.
A chill prickled down his spine as his senses sharpened to razor-point awareness. His blue eyes snapped open, slow and wary. Muscles tensed. Every instinct in him screamed to move, to fight, to run.
Instead, he looked down.
Nestled against his chest, wrapped in a snowy white blanket, was a baby.
A baby.
Three days old — if that.
Shock didn't even begin to cover it.
For the first few seconds, Damon could only stare, too stunned to react, his brain stuttering uselessly in his skull.
How?
Why?
What the hell—?
Okay that's why...
The little girl — because she was unmistakably a girl — slept on, oblivious to the maelstrom her mere presence had unleashed. Her tiny form tucked itself naturally into the curve of his chest, as though she had always belonged there. Her skin was the softest shade of rose, her features impossibly small and fragile. A dusting of near-invisible hair crowned her head, catching the faint light leaking through the curtains in a silver-gold halo.
Damon swallowed thickly, a lump rising unbidden in his throat. His hands hovered awkwardly, unsure of how to hold something so breakable, so precious.
He wasn't made for this.
He wasn't built for this.
"What am I supposed to do with you now?" he muttered, the words rasping low in his throat, directed more at himself than the sleeping baby.
Carefully — oh so carefully — he shifted his arms, cradling her more securely. She fit under his chin like a missing piece he hadn't realized he'd been missing all along. Her tiny fist curled into the fabric of his t-shirt, anchoring herself to him with a trust that was absolute, unquestioning.
She weighed practically nothing.
And yet... she felt heavier than the world.
Damon's eyes closed briefly, overwhelmed by the sheer wrongness of how right this felt.
He had lived for almost a century— burned through lifetimes of mistakes, betrayals, and endless grief.
He had no business holding something this pure.
No business feeling this... hopeful.
But here she was.
And some stubborn, reckless part of him — the same part that once believed in loyalty and love and promises made under starlit skies — latched onto her with a desperation he didn't even try to fight.
"I'm keeping you," Damon whispered, voice rough and certain. "No questions. No arguments."
As if she heard him, the baby stirred, letting out a tiny whimper.
Instantly, Damon tightened his hold, the instinct so primal it startled him. His entire body shifted around her protectively, shielding her from a world she didn't yet know could be cruel.
"Shhh," he breathed against her forehead, the sound more plea than command.
She stilled at once, her breathing settling into a slow, peaceful rhythm.
Damon sagged back against the pillows, exhaustion wrapping its cold hands around him again — but now, it was different. Now, it wasn't an empty, soul-crushing kind of tired. It was the kind that came from carrying something worth carrying.
His mind raced in dizzying circles.
Who had left her?
Why him?
What the hell was he supposed to do with a baby?
A tiny smile ghosted across his lips — a rare, soft thing — as he glanced down at her.
"You don't even have a name, do you?" he murmured. "Don't worry. We'll figure it out."
The idea of naming her — of giving her something so permanent, so real — made his chest ache.
"No blood for breakfast though," he added wryly. "That's non-negotiable."
Gingerly, Damon slid out of bed, careful not to jostle her. She remained nestled against him, her little fingers tangled in the material of his shirt like a lifeline.

Damon walked down the stairs, a careful arm wrapped around the fragile bundle nestled against his chest. The house smelled like burnt coffee and impending doom — a clear sign that Caroline and Elena were already deep in whatever crisis the day had dumped on them.
He found them hovering over the coffee table, a mess of maps, notebooks, and scribbled plans scattered around like fallen leaves. Voices low, tense, worried. Probably about the escaped tomb vampires.
Not that Damon cared.
Not today.
He leaned lazily against the doorframe, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Hey, ladies," he said casually, adjusting the sleeping weight in his arms. "Question: what does a human eat for breakfast these days? Asking for... a very small friend."
They turned.
And froze.
Caroline blinked as if she'd been hit in the face. Elena made a strangled sound — halfway between a gasp and a scream.
"WHAT. THE. HELL. IS. THAT?" Caroline shrieked, pointing dramatically at the baby cradled against him.
Elena clapped a hand over her mouth, eyes huge and horrified.
"Damon — oh my God — is that a baby??"
Damon rolled his eyes. "No, it's a very lifelike doll. Of course it's a baby."
"Where did you get it?!" Caroline demanded, voice going shrill. "Damon, you — you didn't take someone's kid, right? Please tell me you didn't kidnap a baby."
"I found her," Damon said simply, keeping his voice low so he wouldn't wake the sleeping girl. "At the front door. Last night."
"You found her?!" Elena repeated, stunned. "Damon, you can't just keep a baby you find like she's a stray puppy!"
"Watch me," Damon said coolly, adjusting the blanket around the tiny form tucked into him.
Caroline's hands flew to her hips. She was practically vibrating with outrage.
"This is not a joke! This is an actual living human being! You are literally the last person on Earth who should be anywhere near a baby!"
"Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence, Blondie."
"I'm serious!" she snapped. "You're selfish! You're reckless! You don't care about anyone but yourself — you can't even take care of yourself!"
Elena stepped forward, her voice tight and pained. "Damon... you hurt people. You kill people. How are you supposed to take care of something this innocent?"
The words hit harder than he let on.
He didn't flinch — wouldn't give them the satisfaction — but somewhere deep inside, they stuck.
Still, he lifted his chin, holding the baby closer to his heart like a shield.
"I'm not giving her up," he said, voice iron-clad.
Caroline looked like she might explode. "You can't just decide that! Damon, you need to call the cops — or Child Services or someone! She should be with real parents! With real people who know what they're doing!"
"Or an orphanage," Elena said quietly, though her voice wavered with doubt. "There are places where she'd be... safe. Where people could take care of her properly."
Damon's jaw locked.
"Yeah?" he said, voice low and dangerous. "Because being dumped at an orphanage worked out so great for all the other broken kids in the world?"
They both hesitated.
Damon took a step forward, the baby still curled safe against him, her tiny breath tickling the fabric of his t-shirt.
"No," he said fiercely. "She's mine now. She stays with me."
"You can't just claim a baby!" Caroline cried, almost desperate. "She's not a pet, Damon!"
"I know exactly what she is," Damon snapped, voice ragged.
"A chance."
Silence fell like a heavy, suffocating blanket.
Caroline stared at him, mouth opening and closing helplessly. Elena's eyes filled with some complicated mix of anger, fear — and pity.
The baby stirred, letting out a soft whimper, and Damon immediately softened, rocking her instinctively, whispering something soothing only she could hear.
"I'm keeping her," he said again, quieter this time but no less certain.
"No matter what you say. No matter what it costs."
He looked up, meeting both their stares head-on.
For once, there was no smirk. No snark. No armor.
Just raw, battered truth.
"She's mine."