Here is a whole chapter of SAD and also Ron being absolute shit to himself *sobs*

I'M SORRY!

oOo

The first thing Ron noticed as he stirred awake was a profound sense of calm. It was more than how comfortable the soft surface underneath him was, or the way his body was entirely at ease, every muscle relaxed. Physical aspects aside, he felt wholly content and there was a sense of pure bliss radiating in his chest, as if all his worries had disappeared. Opening his eyes, he blinked up at the soft, white ceiling, his mind working to piece things together. It only took him half a second to remember where he currently was and the truth of the night before hit him all at once. Ron inhaled, his world shifting.

Hermione had…He and Hermione had…

Turning his head to the right, his eyes went to the space where Hermione had fallen asleep beside him, only to find it empty. Frowning, he turned his head towards the other side of the room, his gaze immediately finding hers. She was half-bent down, her arm outstretched to pick her dress off the floor.

All was right in the world for half a second, and Ron's mouth started to curve into a smile. The moment shattered abruptly when he noticed Hermione's expression. Her eyes were wide and bloodshot, and it was obvious that she'd been crying. She was frozen, resembling a deer caught in the glare of headlights as she stared at him, unmoving.

A surge of anxiety coursed through Ron's veins, jolting him from his previous state of euphoria. Without hesitation, he propelled himself upright, driven by the desperate need to unveil the cause of her distress.

"Hermione?" he asked. His voice was groggy with sleep, but he hardly even noticed, all his focus directed towards his best friend. "What's wrong?"

Instead of answering, Hermione only shook her head, her lips slightly parted in a wordless attempt to convey her affliction. To his horror, fresh tears started cascading down her cheeks. Ron jumped from the bed, only noticing he was still starkers when Hermione deliberately averted her eyes to avoid looking at his nakedness. Snatching his pants from the floor, he hastily pulled them on and rushed towards her, desperate to mend whatever was amiss.

"What's going on?" Instinctively, his arms reached out towards her, but Hermione shook her head again, taking a step back to avoid his touch. If Ron had had any doubt that he was the reason for her emotional state before, her not allowing him to touch her confirmed it. Feeling as if he might vomit, he pulled his hands back, his chest morphing into a heavy mess of hurt and dread.

"Hermione, what the hell is going on?" Though he tried to keep his voice even, he was screaming on the inside, panic racing through his blood as he awaited her answer. Reeling, he mentally ran through last night's events, searching for a reason she would be upset with him.

"I'm sorry. I just-" Hermione put her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking.

Only then did Ron fully comprehend what was happening and why she was crying. Waves of every negative emotion surged over him in a relentless torrent, guilt being one of the most prominent, closely followed by a crushing heartbreak, one much stronger than any he'd ever felt.

"Shite," he murmured. "You regret it. You regret what happened last night, don't you?"

Although posed as a question, his words were more of a statement. Even if Hermione were to deny it, Ron already knew, it was clear the answer was yes. Last night had meant the world to him, but she evidently didn't share the same opinion.

"It shouldn't have happened," Hermione finally choked out. "I wasn't thinking and-"

The confirmation of his fears coming to fruition made Ron swallow hard, a lump forming in his throat as he held back the tears that were threatening to spring to his eyes. Instead of breaking down like everything inside of him wanted to, he let out a loud frustrated noise and ran his hands through his hair. "Hermione, I wouldn't have fucking touched you if I knew that you were going to-I mean- I really thought that you- Fuck! " he yelled. Clasping his hands at the back of his head, he took a deep calming breath, willing himself to focus on her rather than on his own anguish. Letting the breath out, he shook his head. "Honestly, I don't even know what to say right now. Are…are you okay?"

"This is all my fault," she cried, getting more hysterical.

Ron gave a humorless snort. "Fault," he repeated. "No, I should have known."

And he should have. He should have known that-

"I'm sorry," Hermione squeaked, pulling his attention back to her.

"No Hermione," he said, "I'm sorry. I don't even know what the hell I was thinking." He sighed again before reaching out and gingerly rubbing her arm, hoping to reassure her she wasn't the one at fault. The touch wasn't nearly enough. Ron longed to pull her to him, to whisper apologies over and over and beg for her forgiveness, but he didn't. She would see through him then, and he was fairly positive she wouldn't react well to that.

"I'm not-" she started, her jaw quivering. "I'm not one of those girls that you- I don't do these kinds of things, Ron."

"What?" he asked, confused. "You think that I don't know that? Of course you aren't like them, you're- Hermione, if you think for one second that I think-" Ron stuttered, frustrated with himself for not being able to properly express what he was thinking. Was she seriously comparing herself to other girls he hooked up with? Though he held nothing against any of those girls (except possibly Lavender) Hermione was eons above any of them- at least in his eyes. She was way more than just some girl. She was his best friend, the person he knew and who knew him better than anyone else. She meant so much more to him and he couldn't believe she didn't know that. "You know that I'm not good with words," he went on, "but Hermione-we can figure this out, I know we can. Just- just tell me exactly what it is that has you upset." He paused. "Talk to me," he breathed.

Maybe the reason she was upset was because she didn't understand how he felt about her. If that were the case, the problem was easily fixed. If he squinted, Ron could see a light at the end of the tunnel. It was small and barely discernible, but it was there.

When Hermione shook her head in the negative, the light shrunk even smaller. "I don't want to talk about it," she said. "I just-I have to leave."

"Leave?" he repeated dumbly. "I just- I want to know what you're thinking right now, Hermione. You have me scared to fucking death because I don't know what to do and-"

"Ron I can't- I don't want to talk to you right now."

"Let's just talk about it," he pleaded again. He was well aware how pathetic he sounded, but he didn't even care.

"What is there to talk about, Ron?" she cried. "It was a mistake."

And with that, the light vanished. Ron was astonished that his heart continued to beat, carrying on its duty of keeping him alive despite it shattering to pieces in his chest. But really, what did he expect? In what world would Hermione love him, really love him? Certainly not the real one.

Last night he'd been so sure she felt the same, but he'd been wrong, so wrong. Perhaps at the time she had felt something more, but it had merely been a fluke, a momentary lapse of judgment on Hermione's part and nothing more.

Ron's wishful thinking and eagerness had clouded his senses, and he had been too quick to jump to conclusions. He was a fucking idiot for wholeheartedly believing that a single night with Hermione would turn into forever, that a single night would turn his deepest wish into reality.

Everything he'd ever wanted in regards to her, every hope of Hermione loving him the way he always dreamed, was taken away in that instant, slipping through his fingers before he even had a chance to say goodbye.

"A mistake?" he asked, closing his eyes. "Is that what I am to you now, Hermione? A mistake?"

Hermione took a step backwards towards the door. "I-I can't do this right now, Ron."

Her voice was little more than a whisper and the pain on her face made him want to die. She could hardly even look at him. "Why can't you do this, Hermione?" he asked. "What do you even mean when you say that?"

Ron knew there was no hope of his feelings ever being reciprocated, but even worse was the stark reality that their friendship was now in shambles and possibly irreparable. He still loved her. Would always love her. And even if she didn't feel the same, he couldn't lose her. That wasn't an option he was willing to accept.

"Will you-will you listen to me, then?" he asked, the words coming out almost against his will. The sudden urge to pour his heart out was overwhelming. Maybe if he explained his side, she would understand. Regardless of the damage telling her the truth might do, Hermione deserved to know, it was well past the point of having any secrets between them. "You don't have to say anything… just-just listen."

Hermione's eyes widened, and she took a step back. "I already know what you're going to say Ron," she said in a shaky voice.

"You do?"

Ron's heart somehow managed to break all over again.

She knew.

Maybe it shouldn't have surprised him as much as it did, but he hadn't expected it.

"Yes," she said firmly. "I do, and I don't want to hear it."

Fuck. Was Hermione aware she was nailing the lid to his coffin shut? If she knew he was in love with her, why twist the knife in his gut and exacerbate his pain by making it hurt worse than it already did?

Ron let out a sigh and turned his face away, hoping to hide how much her words affected him. "Fine," he said. "If you don't want me to say it, then I won't."

"Thank you."

"Alright then," he said, his voice cracking. "Friends then?" He swallowed thickly before turning back to her.

"Of course. Nothing has to change, right?"

The fuck not.

"No, I guess not," he lied. Forcing a smile on his face, he tried to pretend that everything would be okay even though he knew it wouldn't be.

"I'm going to go downstairs and call a taxi," Hermione went on, "You can take your time and leave when you're ready-"

"What? No, Hermione. I'll get my stuff. I can be ready to leave in five minu-"

"No, Ron," she interrupted. "I need to be alone right now."

Defeated, he moved his gaze to the floor. "No, you just need to be away from me," he corrected.

She didn't deny it. "I just need a while, okay? Please understand."

"I won't-I won't say a word the whole ride if you don't want me to," he tried. "I'm not going to let you ride in a bloody taxi for three hours, Hermione. Let me take you ho-"

"No!" she yelled, taking them both by surprise.

Ron let out a loud and frustrated sigh. "Ok! Fine. Well-then-just- hang on a damn minute," he snapped. "I'll be right back."

He strode to his bag and threw on a shirt and pair of shorts, not even bothering to put on shoes before exiting the motel room. Covering only a short distance to the neighboring room, he commenced banging on the closed door. After about ten seconds, the door opened and Dave stuck his head out, his eyes narrowed with the lingering effects of sleep.

"What the fuck, Ron?" he grumbled.

"Can you take me home?" Ron demanded, bypassing any sort of friendly greeting.

"What?" Dave asked, rubbing his eyes. "I thought you drove your brother's car here?"

"I did, but Hermione needs to leave," Ron grit out, "Before she leaves, I need to confirm that you can take me home. Otherwise, I'm stuck."

"I-" Dave ran a hand through his messy mop of hair. "Yeah, man. We weren't planning on leaving anytime soon though, we wanted to sleep in a bit."

"That's fine," Ron agreed, already turning around, "Just come get me whenever you're ready to go."

Hermione was still standing in the same spot when he returned. Avoiding looking in her general direction, Ron grabbed Bill's car keys from the top of the desk and thrust them out towards her.

"Here. Go," he said in a stern voice. "Dave and Charlotte are in the room next door, and I'm going to ride back with them. You take the car. Just park it in my driveway and leave the key with Ginny or something." Hermione opened her mouth to respond, but he cut her off. "Stop. You need to get away from me, so do it, Hermione. Just-just go."

"Thank you," she choked out. "Ron-I'm sorry..."

"Yeah. Me too," he said dejectedly. He moved to sit on the edge of the bed, his jaw clenched as he stared hard down at the floor.

The sound of her departing footsteps reached Ron's ears, followed by the soft click of the door closing. He remained where he was, unmoving. After a few minutes he couldn't take the silence anymore and stood up and started to pace, hoping to rid himself of nervous energy. As he did so, a folded napkin on the floor garnered his attention. There were words written on the soft, white paper and before he could think twice, Ron was stooping down to pick it up.

Ron,

I'm so sorry to leave you like this, but I didn't want to bother you. I'm going to take a taxi home. Don't worry about me, I'll be fine.

Hermione

Ron crumpled the napkin up in his fist. So not only was he a bloody mistake, he wasn't even worth the courtesy of being woken up. Hermione had been planning to head back home without even telling him. Best friends for years and that was what it boiled down to?

The tears he'd been holding back finally came, and Ron made a pitiful noise as he tossed the napkin down. Pacing once again, he swiped at the tears with the back of his hand but they didn't stop. His gaze landed on the unmade bed, and the memories of last night came rushing back. He crumpled, his body falling to the bed as he hid his face in the pillows. Now in what was almost in the fetal position, Ron cried harder than he'd ever remembered crying. His chest heaved with painful wracking sobs, and he couldn't stop it even if he'd wanted to.

oOo

A little over an hour later, Ron sat, sullen, in the back seat of Dave's car, trying to ignore the concerned looks that were coming from the couple in front.

No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get the morning's image of Hermione out of his head. He had never seen her look like that, much less look at him like that. It was like he was the worst mistake she'd ever made. She probably felt disgusted that she'd let him touch her, and rightfully so. What right did he have to touch her, to take her like that? Hermione would never be able to forgive him. He should have held back, should have never allowed himself to kiss her, much less do anything more with her.

"Ron?" Charlotte's hesitant voice called back, and even though Ron didn't turn his eyes from the window, he could tell she was turned around in her seat looking at him.

"I already told you, Char, I-" Ron stopped, his voice breaking. He moved his hands up to cover his eyes, willing himself not to break down yet again. There was a beat of silence, and then he heard shuffling. A pair of small arms wrapped around him, and Ron let out a shaky sigh as Charlotte squeezed him tight.

"You look like you needed this," she said, her head resting on top of his shoulder. Though Ron didn't remove his hands from his face, he gave her a grateful nod.

oOo

"You look like shit," Ginny told Ron as he walked through the front door of his home.

"Did Hermione get the car back to Bill?" he asked, ignoring her words.

"She dropped it off, yeah. Bill left about ten minutes ago." His sister stared hard at him. "Hermione looked like shit as well. What happened between you two?"

"Nothing. I'm going to bed."

When Ron made it to his room, he pulled his curtains shut, not even having the heart to look across at Hermione's window.

oOo

The days that followed seemed to drag on endlessly. Other than Ron attending his final week of high school, he did not leave his room, choosing instead to isolate himself from everybody else as much as possible. He told his family he was sick, and surprisingly, his excuse seemed to work. The isolation, he discovered, was a double-edged sword, forcing himself to do nothing except think. The overwhelming guilt stemming from the night of prom was still there, as was the self-loathing that had only gotten worse. However, after a few days of wallowing, another emotion began to surface.

Anger.

He'd already been mad as hell at himself, but until recently, he hadn't been angry at Hermione. But the more Ron was in his head, the more he was able to pass some of the blame onto her.

She had been the one to kiss him first. She had pulled him to the bed and initiated things. She had told him she wanted…

Ron let out a frustrated groan and slammed his fists into his eyes, forcing the image of Hermione underneath him out of his head. He refused to think about the way she'd looked at him that night, the way she had pleaded with him. How on earth could she have wanted him to the extent she had, only to turn around and change her mind? Had she even given his feelings an ounce of thought?

"I already know what you're going to say, Ron."

"You do?"

"Yes, I do. And I don't want to hear it."

Hermione had known. Ron wasn't sure how long she'd known, but that didn't really matter. But knowing what she did, how could she have let it go that far? She had to realize that using him like that was wrong. And then the next day... to not even give him a chance to talk… to not allow him to utter the words he'd been holding in for years even though he'd begged her... Hermione must have not been the person he thought she was, after all.

There was a knock on Ron's bedroom door but he didn't respond. After a few seconds it clicked open and Ginny stuck her head into his room. "Are you still sick?" she asked, grimacing as if she were afraid to catch whatever germ he might have.

Ron grunted, not in the mood to talk to his sister.

"Dave is on the phone again. What do you want me to tell him?"

With a sigh, Ron reached his arm out beckoning Ginny to hand him the cordless phone. When she did, Ron held it up to his ear. "Hey."

"Hey." Dave sounded hesitant, and Ron knew that was his fault. Even though he'd gone to school, he'd hardly talked to anybody at all, choosing to ignore Dave almost entirely.

"What's up?" Ron replied in a flat voice, his tone clearly indicating he gave no shits as to what his friend was up to.

"I was just wondering if you were coming to the party tonight? Char's insisting you come…she's worried about you."

"I…" Ron sat up. His first instinct had been to say no, but the thought of getting thoroughly pissed was enough to turn him on to the idea.

"Yeah," he finally said, well aware his voice was hoarse from disuse, "I'll be there in a bit."

He was going to get drunk as fuck and hopefully forget, at least temporarily, what a shit storm his life currently was.