Invisible String | TVD x WIZARDING WORLD

I DIDN'T MEAN TO HURT HIM

I read it once. Twice. Let the words settle in like warm whiskey—burning at first, but softening everything on the way down.
A sharp gust of wind blew my hair into my eyes. I didn't bother pushing it back.
I just stared out at the lake.
Tribid. Trouble. Chaos in my name and hunger in my ribs.
But right now?
Right now I just felt... seen.
My thumb brushed over the ink. The word gremlin still made me smile like a fool.
I didn't hear him approach. Didn't notice until a shadow stretched beside mine on the grass.
"Didn't think the lake was your type of solitude," said a familiar, too-calm voice.
Theo Nott. Of course.
Of bloody course.
"What do you want?" I asked, not looking up.
"You stormed out like the ceiling was collapsing. Thought maybe you were planning to push someone into the lake. Figured I'd nominate myself."
I finally looked at him, dry eyes and slow smirk. He was trying to sound flippant, but his gaze kept flicking to the letter in my hands.
"Didn't know Slytherins were into charity cases," I muttered.
"I'm not," he said, sitting down beside me without asking. "I'm into interesting disasters."
I stared at him. "You're insufferable."
"And you're still sitting here."
Touché.
I rolled my eyes, tucking the letter back into the pocket of my robe like it wasn't the only thing keeping me from unraveling.
"You're still here too," I said, arching a brow. "Which tells me one of two things: either you're bored out of your skull, or stalking me is your new hobby."
Theo shrugged, all lazy limbs and expensive indifference. "I like the lake."
"Liar."
"I like when you're at the lake."
I blinked.
Okay.
That was... not expected.
"Don't flatter me, Nott. It's gross."
He smirked, tilting his head. "And yet, you're blushing."
"I'm annoyed."
"You're flattered."
"I have a wand and very little impulse control."
"And I've got nothing to lose." He leaned back on his hands, eyes on the water. "Besides, it's not like I came to flirt. I came to see if you were okay. Which, believe me, is not exactly on-brand for me."
I didn't say anything.
Because he was right.
It wasn't like Theo to care. Not about people. Not out loud.
"Was it from your dad?" he asked after a pause, quieter this time.
I stiffened. "Don't."
"I'm not judging," he said quickly. "You just looked like... like it mattered."
I turned my head to look at him, studying his profile in the light of the dying afternoon. He wasn't smirking anymore. Just watching the lake like it had answers.
"It did," I said finally. "It does."
Another silence stretched between us, thick with everything we weren't saying.
"People don't really know who you are," he said after a while. "They see the Gryffindor robes and the bloodline and make up a story that's easier to swallow."
I looked at him again, sharper this time. "And you think you know me?"
"No," he said simply. "But I'm not trying to pretend I do."
That... stopped me. Just for a breath.
I should've gotten up. Should've left. Should've thrown a snarky line over my shoulder and walked away with the wind in my hair like some dramatic YA protagonist.
But I didn't.
I stayed.
Because for some stupid reason, sitting next to Theo Nott with my father's letter in my pocket and the lake whispering at my feet felt... safe.
Dangerously safe.
"Fine," I said, sighing. "But if you tell anyone I let you sit here, I'm blaming it on an ancient tribrid compulsion."
His smirk returned, soft and smug. "Deal."
Theo's smirk lingered a second too long.
Something about his confidence—his calm, calculated cockiness—sparked something in me.
No.
Snapped something.
The lake whispered, the wind twisted, and my heart thudded hard—once, twice, too hard.
And suddenly, I could hear it.
His pulse.
A steady drumbeat beneath his skin.
A rhythm I wasn't supposed to crave.
He tilted his head, oblivious to the war erupting beneath my ribcage.
"You're staring," he said softly.
"You should go," I said, standing up too fast, too suddenly. My fingers twitched. My fangs—yes, my actual goddamn fangs—itched behind my lips.
"I just sat down."
"I'm serious, Nott. Leave. Now."
He blinked up at me. "What's wrong with—"
I didn't let him finish.
Didn't want to hear it.
Because the hunger didn't care.
Because I was done pretending to be made of anything but bloodlust and brittle bones.
Because he was too close.
And I was too hungry.
The next moment blurred. A whisper of movement. A crash of instinct.
I was on him.
Pushing him back into the grass, my hand on his chest, holding him down like a force of nature.
His breath caught, eyes wide—whether from fear or fascination, I couldn't tell.
And then—
I sank my fangs into his neck.
The taste hit like fire.
Like lightning stitched into my throat.
Like all the ache in my bones finally meant something.
Theo didn't scream.
He hissed—a sharp gasp between his teeth—but he didn't push me away.
He didn't stop me.
His fingers curled into the grass.
My name tore from his mouth like a secret.
"Diana—"
And just like that, I pulled back.
My lips were stained. My chest heaving. My pupils wide and wild.
His blood was everywhere. In my mouth. In my veins. In the air.
He was pale, blinking up at me with a look that was equal parts what the hell just happened and do it again.
I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, still trembling.
"You idiot," I whispered. "You absolute idiot."
"You're the one who bit me," he rasped.
"And you didn't stop me."
We stared at each other.
I looked into his eyes, he needs to forget this.
"You don't remember any of this, you didn't come to the Lake, you didn't see me, you didn't umm, whatever just make sure if anyone asks you about me, you know nothing. Go. Now."
I hope it worked.