- Prompt Fic -

Prompt: a Demon writes messages on your mirror in blood, but they're useful messages, things like 'Don't forget you have yoga at 2" or "You're out of milk."

*"Helpful demons?"*

*"Why, they're the perplexing guides of labyrinthine world 'Down Under' - aka: Hell.

*Yet be warned, for their aide is cloaked in shadows, and motives are veiled in riddles."

R

Severus Snape awoke to the faint echo of his heart pounding in his chest. The night was bathed in darkness, nothing but a chilling breeze whispering through a half-open window, and with a sigh, he pushed the tangled mass of his black hair out of his face and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. His nights were often filled with restless sleep, tortured dreams, and unwelcomed memories. He didn't need any additional disturbances such as bodily needs.

Yet the wizard still managed to stumble into the bathroom, hardly casting a glance at the cracked mirror that had met his fist on more than one occasion. The room was dimly lit, a pale, eerie greenish-blue light filtering in from an enchanted window that showed the shallows of the Black Lake, and the atmosphere heavy with a sense of impending doom.

It really wasn't all that different to any other night if the wizard were to be honest. If anything, and ever since that blasted Potter had stepped into the hallowed halls of Hogwarts, the lingering sense of impending doom had become nothing but a constant and reliable companion in his life.

It surely had saved his sordid arse on more than one occasion, that was for certain.

As he went about his usual routine, splashing his face with cold water and cursing at the darkness that seemed to permeate his very soul, he couldn't help but notice a strange red smear on the mirror. At first he presumed it was lipstick, until he squinted; his mind clearly needing more than a moment to comprehend the words that had been etched into the glass.

And by the looks of it, they had been written in blood.

Tonight's the night.
Good luck!
- P.S. You're out of milk...

Severus Snape froze, his dark eyes narrowing as he stared at the cryptic message. A rush of emotions - mainly irritation - coursed through the wizard, and he let out a low growl. It had been a while since he'd last spoken to the entity that had left these most unconventional notes, one that never seemed to care for his opinion on the matter, and as much as he knew that his words would fall upon deaf ears-

(Sorry, but just curious, would the right term be 'un'ears, considering the entity responsible for these lovely messages is, in fact, a demon?)

-the Potions Master still couldn't stop himself from muttering under his breath, "I tell you, if you weren't immortal..."

The entity - (yes, a demon) - had first appeared during one of the most harrowing nights of Severus' life. That night had been seared into his soul, leaving an indelible mark, and was permanently etched into the annuals of history. Whilst he'd been left shackled to his own bed within the dungeons, screaming his absolute heart out, his gut twisted with helplessness as he'd felt the passing of one James Potter.

It was a night that not only had Severus discovered his childhood friend had been murdered in cold blood by his own 'Dark Lord', but wherein the wizard had discovered he'd been bound to James Potter via a Life-Debt; one, that if it hadn't been for Madam Pomfrey, Severus would have gladly let kill him just so he could hexed Potter in the Afterlife.

But, woe such is he, that - sadly - was not to be the case.

Amidst the chaos and misery (misery of which this author isn't certain originated from the loss of one Lily Potter, or the fact that Severus couldn't hex James in the afterlife), a demonic presence had made itself known. It had chosen that night to settle into the dark recesses of Severus' life, becoming a permanent and unwelcoming guest that was as frustrating as it was unsettling.

And its favourite mode of communication?

Leaving random messages in blood.

It was just one of the peculiar ways it toyed with him, and lets just say that when the whole incident with the basilisk happened, Severus may or may not had had a heartache or two thinking the demon had broadened its audience to include the whole school.

(Thank Salazar for Ginny Weasley, aye?)

The memory brought on a chill that raced down Severus' spine, but he shook himself from dwelling further on the past. He washed away the message, using his wand until there was no trace left of it, having no patience or time to indulge in the quirkiness of his infernal guest. The demon had a penchant for leaving oddly timed notes, but tonight, Severus had more pressing matters to contend with.

Just as he was about to leave the bathroom, the door of his office suddenly begun to reverberate with a frantic pounding. Severus delt his heart race even as a scowl was already twisting his lips, knowing that such urgency could only signify something dire, yet could not allow the world to see how it utterly terrified him.

Quickly donning his black robes, the Potions Master moved to answer the door, all the while preparing himself for the dangers that could be on the other side. He was not expecting his seemingly impatient guest to be Filius Flitwick. And yet there the Professor was, the tiny half-goblin of a wizard quaking with fear as he suddenly exclaimed, "Severus, Death Eaters! In the castle!"

As the Potions Master left his quarters, he was unaware of the sinister presence that had begun to materialize within the confines of the bathroom, a cloud of dark smoke giving birth to a sardonic smile and emerald-green eyes glinting with an unholy flame behind fiery red hair.

The demoness watched the unfolding events with wicked delight, relishing the chaos she was about to sow. And a dark amusement coursed through her as she recalled her foolish ex, the one who had been all too willing to toss aside her most prized possession.

It was lucky - for her - that poor James Potter had something Death did so want returned...