A/N: This is my first story on here anddd my first smutty story. Wish me luck! And feel free to shoot me a review! :)

She couldn't believe she had been so stupid!

She had known how hard Potter had been working his team, hadn't she? She'd known they had disturbingly large amounts of talent on the team. Hell, her best friend was the Seeker on the team and had spent the summer at Quidditch camp for Merlin's sake!

So just why had she made that bet?

Well, she had been angry at first, which to be fair often quickly led to complete and total irrational behavior. Especially where James Potter was involved. He had just been such a prat! Such a delicious and tantalizing prat...

He had been sitting in the corner of the Heads' Common studying his stupid playbook instead of finishing the essay Slughorn set weeks ago. "Quidditch is more important than ruddy Potions," he told her absently when she pointed out it was due tomorrow.

She then sat in her seat, stewing. That bloody playbook had all of Potter's stupid attention. This year he had toned down the pranking and the bullying and, to Lily's mild irritation, (though she'd never admit that aloud) the wooing. This time last year Potter would have been doing everything he could to make conversation with her. School could have waited, his friends could have waited, and Quidditch certainly could have waited. Now, however, the messy haired bane of her existence had taken to spending all his time talking about how sure he was that the Quidditch Cup was going to be his this year. Like she even cared about that bollocks!

Sure, seeing him so passionate about something was a pleasant surprise at first, since for as long as she'd known him he had put as little effort into everything as possible. And yet, as the months bled together she couldn't help but let her mind wander to the possibilities. What would it be like to have his passion directed at something else…? Would the manic fervor that he showed toward his barbaric sport transfer in other aspects of his life…? Would the dominating and forward behavior he displayed be just as blatant and unstoppable…? What she wouldn't give to be the one to—

No! Lily Evans does not fantasize about James bleeding Potter.

Not that she'd have long to fantasize anyway, now that he had gone off and made a bet with her when she'd finally snapped.

"I don't know how you plan to win with that giant ego of yours slowing you down."

A beat of silence followed as she watched Potter look up, startled, and blinked at her. Then he sat that playbook of his down and a small smirk that she hadn't had directed at her in months slide onto his face. An eyebrow rose slowly. "What's that Evans?"

Lily bristled at his mocking tone. "You've done nothing but talk about that ridiculous game for weeks! To anyone with ears and a pulse! It's how you're going to win the Cup this. How you've got the best team Hogwarts has seen in years that. And your plays!" she groaned rolling her eyes skyward. "Merlin, your bloody pays! Everyone under the sun has heard at this point just how brillyour sacred plays are! You're so full of yourself. So I don't know how you plan to win when I doubt your broom will be able to lift your fat head off the sodding ground!"

She was panting slightly and noticed that she had stood up at some point, her books and parchment scattered on the floor. Her eyes flashed at the way Potter's smirk had widened considerably during her rant. She was annoyed at the pull that twisted something pleasurably inside her as she watched the way his crisp shirt tightened against his arms and chest when he crossed his arms. Something else she'd never admit to another breathing soul: James Potter made her... hot. She didn't know exactly when it started, since she had no idea how long she had been trying to ignore it, but it had been getting out of hand lately. Everything he did seemed to send a jolt through her. The past several nights she had had to place silencing charms around her room to avoid the chance of him overhearing her trying to handle it on her own. She'd imagine the feel of his hands on her skin. Moaning at the thought of hearing his voice, low and husky against the shell of her ear. He'd say terribly wicked things in her mind. Words were a powerful tool after all.

And it was his next that sealed her fate that afternoon.

"Sure of yourself then, are you? Care to make a wager?"

Caught off guard at the strange turn in conversation she merely attempted to regard him coolly. "Like you need the galleons?"

His chuckle was deep and she ignored the knot that grew just a little tighter in her abdomen at the sound. "True. I was thinking a different type of wager. The winner gets… favors of sorts?"

Lily felt her heart thump a little louder at the implication but forced her voice to remain fairly flippant. "Favors? I can't see myself wanting any favors you could give." Lie. Such a lie. She tried to shake herself.

He gave a shrug, hazel eyes glinting mischievously behind his wire-rimmed glasses. "You're a clever witch. I'm sure you could think of something. So- if Gryffindor loses on Saturday then you can force me to do whatever embarrassing or demeaning things you'd like, no matter who's around. For," he paused thinking, "A week?" That had its advantages, Lily thought. Perhaps seeing Potter walk around in a frilly dress and confessing his strongly homosexual love for Filch would dampen her urge to press herself against his naked body... "But," Potter stressed, regaining her attention, "If Gryffindor does win… Then I get you for a week with the same stipulations."

Lily blinked. His mouth was saying on think but she couldn't help but feel like they both knew there was an underlining meaning.

Sensing her hesitation James leaned back again, "Look, it's up to you, Evans. If you win you can make me do things I wouldn't normally do for a week and, knowing you, they'd involve making me do some ridiculous things. On the other hand, if I win, I get the same privileges." He paused, his eyes dark and playful. "But, of course I would never use my powers for evil."

"Yeah? A what would you use them for?" She tried so hard to sound casual but she couldn't quite keep from sounding faintly breathless.

He looked at her, the smile on his lips absolutely devilish. "Oh, you'll find out when I win. So, do we have a bet Evans?" He pushed up his sleeves and offered her his hand to shake, wiggling his fingers impatiently.

Lily fought back a moan of pure longing at the idea of feeling his fingers elsewhere. This was such a bad idea, but as she looked back as him she knew she couldn't have possibly said no then and there.

The rest of the week had gone by speedily and she'd barely seen him, let alone was she given the opportunity to back out of it. And now, Saturday night, she watched as the Gryffindors carried James Potter away as he hoisted the Quidditch Cup in the air wondering what on Earth she had done.

Perhaps he'd forgotten?

He sought her eyes out in the crowd and when he found them she knew her thoughts were in vain; he had in no way forgotten their bet. His eyes said it all.

She had made a deal with the devil.

And Lily had a feeling that the next week of her life could very possibly kill her or bring her recent fantasies a reality.