Bleary eyed and dizzy, Harry rose up out of bed.
Another lonely, drunken night had passed; another morning hung-over.
It had been a month since he and Draco had broken up, and he wasn't handling it well.
He was lonely, and getting drunk was his only way of feeling at least a little bit loved.
What doesn't kill you makes you stronger? Yeah right, hasn't killed me, hasn't made me stronger at all!
Harry thought bitterly.
It was like Draco had heated the house up with his love, and now he was gone it was permanently freezing.
Why couldn't he just love me for who I was? He knew I couldn't change; I respected him for who he was.
And now he was all by himself, drinking his sorrows, the same lonely Harry he had been before Draco had warmed up his world; and the same lonely Harry he was now that Draco had blown away and left a cold breeze behind.