To all the people who read my last story I have since changed my mind on a
few pairings. I believe in Harry/Ginny, Ron/Hermione, AND Draco/Ginny (but
I don't think that will EVER happen, but lots of good stories bout them)
Disclaimer: Don't own a thing. Just thought this song would be amazing to do a songfic to AND I already had an idea for it. BTW it's called This Ruined Puzzle and it's by Dashboard Confessional.
**
This ruined puzzle is beige with the pieces all face down
so the placing goes slowly.
The picture's of anything other than it's mean to be.
**
I, Ron Weasley, am trying to figure out how things went so horribly wrong. . .yet again. Sitting here right where she turned her back on me and marched right up the stairs to her bedroom, I am dumbstruck.
She has finally done it; one argument was the straw that broke the camel's back. Still completely in a state of shock everything is beginning to set in. Those slender arms will never hold me; those soft lips will never graze mine like a gentle breeze. I can't say sappy things to her and she'll never throw her head back in laughter at my antics.
Our love is like a ruined puzzle. Nearly all the pieces have been recovered and placed carefully, but now the puzzle is nothing like is should be, Pieces have been squished into places where they don't belong and many puzzle pieces have gone entirely missing. She and I don't have a puzzle of friendship, ours is a puzzle of love. Now that we're not together the picture will become distorted because it's not supposed to be that way.
**
But the hours they creep,
the patterns repeat.
Don't be concerned, you know I'll be fine on my own.
I never said "don't go."
**
Closing my eyes, I wish that this was the first time. Sadly, I've angered her more than once and now I've pushed her over the edge. Or maybe it was I who lost their footing which caused her to see the real me.
The real me is a despicable man. If I were her then I wouldn't have given me a second glance, but I'm not her and she did. As she walked away I was given a chance.
She turned, looked deliberately at me, paused for a moment, then continued on her way. If only I had taken advantage, grabbed hold of the chance she gave me. Then she might be here with me, maybe even in my arms again.
But no. I just sat on this red and gold couch cushion, watching her leave. Why can't I catch on to these subtle hints girls throw at the moment they throw them? And when I don't why can't she just give me one more chance.
Only, the thing is, I don't deserve any more chances. After the first twenty or so I thought she would give up entirely, but she held on to me for three long years. Now I've gone and ruined that.
Being the jealous, temperamental, insensitive guy that I am hasn't paid off, yet no matter how hard I try to change I am, as always, a failure.
**
I've written a note,
it's pressed between pages that you've marked to find your way back.
**
Failing always was my specialty. I've failed at being a great brother, being good at quidditch, and now I've failed where it counts the most.
I don't even remember how this one started, the argument I mean. Some silly, meaningless thing, I'm sure. Somehow, it escaladed into a heated fight reducing his strong, beautiful girlfriend to tears.
**
It says, "Does he ever get the girl?"
But what if the pages stay pressed,
the chapters unfinished,
the stories too dull to unfold?
Does he ever get the girl?
**
The things I said, and I honestly don't remember what they are, were probably things I didn't and don't mean. Of course I, the failure, am always saying whatever comes to my mind first. I barely think before I speak and it's really caught up with me.
The flames dance in the Gryffindor Common Room fireplace. Trying to touch them would be like trying to reopen the book that she had clearly just slammed closed. Right under his nose, she locked it with a lock so powerful that no wizard could ever unlock it.
Then she tossed him and their past like rubbish that had never meant a thing to her. Or perhaps he was just old, tattered, and overused. Perhaps that is why she chose to discard him.
**
This basement's a coffin.
I'm buried alive.
I'll die in here just to be safe.
I'll die in here just to be safe.
** I can't even begin to explain the anguish I am in at this very moment. She took my heart, treasured it for so long, and just minutes ago she stomped on it then forced it back into my care.
I can't accept it though. She still has my love.
In my heart, my broken heart, I know that she has retrieved her own heart from my poor, worthless hands. Was I too brutal? Did I tease too much?
I tried so hard to love her like I should and keep her love with me, but I guess that it's just another of my magnificent failures.
**
'Cause you're gone.
I get nothing
and you're off with barely a sigh.
I never said, "Goodbye."
** Why didn't I speak? Am I so thick that I couldn't realize that she wanted me to call her back to me?
Obviously I am. But she needs to know how I feel.
**
Does he ever get the girl?
**
And she will know how I feel. I'm scrambling for a piece of parchment and my quill, forgotten on the table.
Now, what can I say? I guess all I can do is tell her how I feel.
***
Dear Hermione,
I can't believe how incredibly thick I am. I don't remember what our argument was about or even what caused it. Some small trifle most likely. I know I've always taken you for granted and I'm the biggest git in the entire world because I'm just realizing this now. I don't understand how I could take you for granted anyhow.
You're so beautiful and smart and. . .everything I'm not. You deserve more than anything I can ever offer you.
But right now, I'm sitting here holding my broken heart and positive that I don't have yours any longer. And all I can think of is what a failure I am.
I'll never be rich, I can't give you expensive things like some could. I'm far too overprotective of you and I blow up every time I disagree with someone.
I don't deserve you, but my depressed, tattered, worn-out, heart is telling me that you need to know something.
I love you. I love you. I love you.
I never worked up the courage to tell you exactly how I feel in the seven years I've known you, but you need to know before we say our real goodbyes.
I love you so much, just know that and I can rest easy.
Love From,
Ronald Ian Weasley
***
Disclaimer: Don't own a thing. Just thought this song would be amazing to do a songfic to AND I already had an idea for it. BTW it's called This Ruined Puzzle and it's by Dashboard Confessional.
**
This ruined puzzle is beige with the pieces all face down
so the placing goes slowly.
The picture's of anything other than it's mean to be.
**
I, Ron Weasley, am trying to figure out how things went so horribly wrong. . .yet again. Sitting here right where she turned her back on me and marched right up the stairs to her bedroom, I am dumbstruck.
She has finally done it; one argument was the straw that broke the camel's back. Still completely in a state of shock everything is beginning to set in. Those slender arms will never hold me; those soft lips will never graze mine like a gentle breeze. I can't say sappy things to her and she'll never throw her head back in laughter at my antics.
Our love is like a ruined puzzle. Nearly all the pieces have been recovered and placed carefully, but now the puzzle is nothing like is should be, Pieces have been squished into places where they don't belong and many puzzle pieces have gone entirely missing. She and I don't have a puzzle of friendship, ours is a puzzle of love. Now that we're not together the picture will become distorted because it's not supposed to be that way.
**
But the hours they creep,
the patterns repeat.
Don't be concerned, you know I'll be fine on my own.
I never said "don't go."
**
Closing my eyes, I wish that this was the first time. Sadly, I've angered her more than once and now I've pushed her over the edge. Or maybe it was I who lost their footing which caused her to see the real me.
The real me is a despicable man. If I were her then I wouldn't have given me a second glance, but I'm not her and she did. As she walked away I was given a chance.
She turned, looked deliberately at me, paused for a moment, then continued on her way. If only I had taken advantage, grabbed hold of the chance she gave me. Then she might be here with me, maybe even in my arms again.
But no. I just sat on this red and gold couch cushion, watching her leave. Why can't I catch on to these subtle hints girls throw at the moment they throw them? And when I don't why can't she just give me one more chance.
Only, the thing is, I don't deserve any more chances. After the first twenty or so I thought she would give up entirely, but she held on to me for three long years. Now I've gone and ruined that.
Being the jealous, temperamental, insensitive guy that I am hasn't paid off, yet no matter how hard I try to change I am, as always, a failure.
**
I've written a note,
it's pressed between pages that you've marked to find your way back.
**
Failing always was my specialty. I've failed at being a great brother, being good at quidditch, and now I've failed where it counts the most.
I don't even remember how this one started, the argument I mean. Some silly, meaningless thing, I'm sure. Somehow, it escaladed into a heated fight reducing his strong, beautiful girlfriend to tears.
**
It says, "Does he ever get the girl?"
But what if the pages stay pressed,
the chapters unfinished,
the stories too dull to unfold?
Does he ever get the girl?
**
The things I said, and I honestly don't remember what they are, were probably things I didn't and don't mean. Of course I, the failure, am always saying whatever comes to my mind first. I barely think before I speak and it's really caught up with me.
The flames dance in the Gryffindor Common Room fireplace. Trying to touch them would be like trying to reopen the book that she had clearly just slammed closed. Right under his nose, she locked it with a lock so powerful that no wizard could ever unlock it.
Then she tossed him and their past like rubbish that had never meant a thing to her. Or perhaps he was just old, tattered, and overused. Perhaps that is why she chose to discard him.
**
This basement's a coffin.
I'm buried alive.
I'll die in here just to be safe.
I'll die in here just to be safe.
** I can't even begin to explain the anguish I am in at this very moment. She took my heart, treasured it for so long, and just minutes ago she stomped on it then forced it back into my care.
I can't accept it though. She still has my love.
In my heart, my broken heart, I know that she has retrieved her own heart from my poor, worthless hands. Was I too brutal? Did I tease too much?
I tried so hard to love her like I should and keep her love with me, but I guess that it's just another of my magnificent failures.
**
'Cause you're gone.
I get nothing
and you're off with barely a sigh.
I never said, "Goodbye."
** Why didn't I speak? Am I so thick that I couldn't realize that she wanted me to call her back to me?
Obviously I am. But she needs to know how I feel.
**
Does he ever get the girl?
**
And she will know how I feel. I'm scrambling for a piece of parchment and my quill, forgotten on the table.
Now, what can I say? I guess all I can do is tell her how I feel.
***
Dear Hermione,
I can't believe how incredibly thick I am. I don't remember what our argument was about or even what caused it. Some small trifle most likely. I know I've always taken you for granted and I'm the biggest git in the entire world because I'm just realizing this now. I don't understand how I could take you for granted anyhow.
You're so beautiful and smart and. . .everything I'm not. You deserve more than anything I can ever offer you.
But right now, I'm sitting here holding my broken heart and positive that I don't have yours any longer. And all I can think of is what a failure I am.
I'll never be rich, I can't give you expensive things like some could. I'm far too overprotective of you and I blow up every time I disagree with someone.
I don't deserve you, but my depressed, tattered, worn-out, heart is telling me that you need to know something.
I love you. I love you. I love you.
I never worked up the courage to tell you exactly how I feel in the seven years I've known you, but you need to know before we say our real goodbyes.
I love you so much, just know that and I can rest easy.
Love From,
Ronald Ian Weasley
***