He sat there, dumbfounded, still looking down at the note he held in his trembling hand. "I love you, but I need to be with him now", was all that it read, but it was enough that he knew who it was from and who it was about. He had found the note on her pillow that morning and had been sitting in his bed, still undressed, for the better part of the morning, reading the note over and over. The more he thought about it, the more he realized that he was entirely unsure if he could continue his life without her. It wasn't like you could call his existence before he knew her much of a "life" as it were, more of simply getting by until something better came his way…which it had, in the way of her…and him…
Thinking on the time they had all spent together, Harry realized that in all of that time, it had always been Hermione who had been there for him when times got really tough. Not that Ron hadn't been there, but it seemed that whenever times got tough, he was the one to bail, and Hermione had been the one to stick by his side, but no more. Now his two best friends were together, leaving him out in the cold, and so suddenly too.
There had been no warning for Harry, he had gone to bed the night before after a long day filing reports in the Auror office at the Ministry, with the knowledge that Hermione was there next to him, and had awoken this morning to find her gone and a cold emotionless note replacing everything they had shared in the decade they had known each other.
When he thought about it, he realized that there had never been one time that she had ever indicated to him that she was unhappy or that she wanted to be with anyone else, so this abrupt leaving came as a total shock for Harry. Had she known that he was beginning to entertain thoughts of proposing to her? Had she finally realized that what he had been trying to tell her all along about her being better than him finally sunken in?
He would handle all of those questions when he was in a better frame of mind, right now he just had to drink, and heavily.
Harry padded over to his ample liquor cabinet (being the savior of Wizarding Britain had its privileges, it could be said) and pulled out a fresh bottle of firewhiskey and proceeded to drink enough of the numbing beverage to calm his nerves.
Once his nerves were calmed, Harry realized that drinking actually took away the pain that he was feeling in his heart and made it easier to not think of the note that he had left in a crumpled pile on the floor back in his bedroom. With that thought in mind, he tipped the bottle back to his lips and took a long swig, further blurring the world around him to a point that he was happy with.