Their love was a towering fortress. They built it slowly, and they built it on the remnants of personal conflicts and animosity, but they built it nevertheless. Moving the stone and cementing the blocks into place with mortar was long and tireless work, especially when they had to clear the ground of the debris as they went, but it was rewarding. Each slab of stone symbolised a little piece of their hopes and dreams, and they watched as those visions slowly rose up before them.
For a time, they lived in the fortification without issue. It was beautiful and secluded and peaceful, and they adored it. Endless green pastures stretched out around them, the sun warmed them with its soft kisses, and the moat that they had so meticulously dug out and filled sparkled like blue glitter. To them, it was pure bliss and every delight they could think of.
Then the battle cries sounded across the paddocks, and their adversaries gathered around their fiefdom's outskirts and began to wage war against them. Catapults flung rocks at their bulwarks and watchtowers in an attempt to tear their relationship apart and render them defenceless lambs ready for the slaughter. Cacophonous noise rumbled through the fortress, and bit of stone broke off under the assault, but they closed their eyes and, like the reckless Gryffindors they were, fired back with all they had.
At the closing of the day, they opened their eyes again and surveyed the damage. Their dreams and hopes had been torn apart, but they were still there.
Their defences had stayed strong, and their love had stayed true.