Phil approached the griffindorke who stood opposite Parkinson 's. "There is one after all. Our hero protector. You didn 't really help her last time. Then, at night in the dungeon, - Draco also stood up. "What?" Did he hurt you then? Phil ran his eyes from Hermione to Draco. He did nothing. In a state as drunk as then, he wouldn 't even be able to touch me with his finger. Some empty words, - Hermione clearly lied, looking proudly at the slush. - Even in such a drunk state as then, - Draco repeated and despondently looked the girl from the feet to the head, - I wouldn t want to touch you...

My friend Hiroki fell in love with a girl who painted. He said they met at a bar somewhere in Shinjuku. A quiet basement place run by an old guy who liked jazz and drank whiskey. Hiroki said her watercolor paintings expressed a feeling he didn’t have words for. Something like a blend of nostalgia, tragedy, and hope, as portrayed by gentle, flowing arcs of color. He said she painted pictures like nothing he’d ever seen. Her name was Toshiko. . . . Hiroki met Toshiko by chance, after accidentally falling down the stairs that led to the bar...