Disclaimer: I don't own any word or character invented by J.K.Rowling, and I promise not to make money out of this.

A.N.: If this story seems familiar to some on this site, they are right in assuming that this has been re-posted: I was totally annoyed that I spelled the title wrong. And I´ve written a second chapter. So a double-title would have been useless; the first chapter is now called "A Wordish game"; it´s not part of the title anymore.

Thank you, thank you, thank you to: "MinnieLover", who, some months ago, reviewed my last story "With a little help" and "tussis", who, only just today, reviewed this in its original version. Thanks again.

Said something : A wordish game by CreamTea

A corridor. An empty corridor.

Nothing unusual.

If said corridor wouldn't have been in Hogwarts, if it wouldn't have been around ten a.m. and a nice day sometime in early spring.

And if a lone figure of a lone girl wouldn't have walked down said corridor.

Yes, it was a lone girl. Very lonely indeed. As she passed a window, she shot an icy glare towards the quiddich pitch. Mark you, the quiddich pitch itself didn't make her glare icily, it were more likely the human beings on said pitch that made her glare. In fact, one human being.

Said being wasn't amidst the mass of cheering in the stands, it was wearing a nice red and gold Gryffindor quiddich uniform, flying around the goalhoops in sheer glory, holding the quaffle he had prevented from flying through one of the hoops only seconds ago in one hand and waving said hand randomly through the air.

In fact, said being was a male being.

Doesn't this explain everything?

Apparently not.

So said girl was in love with said boy. Said boy was in love with said girl. Said girl knew that said boy was in love with her, but she was a girl. Said boy didn't know that said girl was in love with him, and he was a boy. So she waited and he did nothing. Absolutely nothing. And still, he was so obvious! The way he was jealous of every boy at school, the way he watched her constantly, he way he blushed when she'd pecked him on the cheek last year. Aaah, this famous peck on the cheek. See, she's tried to give him hints. She's tried. But he? He was oblivious. Simply oblivious, as if he didn't like her as much as she liked him. But she knew.

She'd known since the Yule Ball. And she wouldn't forget.

A.N.: I hope you liked it. Just one hint: In the next chapter will be far more… activity. ;- )