you and graham have been together long enough that everything just feels easy. he’s the kind of boyfriend who’s all sunshine and warmth, not in the cringey, try-hard way, but in the genuine, steady way that makes you feel safe.

he lets you paint his nails whatever color you want, sits patiently while you clip tiny butterfly barrettes into his hair, and never complains when you rope him into taking aesthetic polaroids. he plans little picnic dates where he packs all your favorite snacks, down to the exact flavor of chips you like, and makes sure the blanket is in the shadiest, coziest spot. at home, movie nights mean piling under blankets with mittens, his fluffy gray cat, sprawled across both of your laps.

it’s a friday morning when he tells you to wear something comfy but “theme park proof.” you raise an eyebrow, suspicious, but he just grins that boyish grin, the one that means he’s hiding something good. he won’t give you details. just hands you a travel mug filled with your favorite coffee and insists you get in the car.

the drive is full of your favorite songs, both of you singing along loudly and off-key, the windows down so the wind tangles your hair. graham keeps glancing over at you, clearly fighting a smile every time you try to guess where you’re going.

then you see it.

the towering archway, the big globe spinning slowly, the words universal studios in bold letters. your jaw drops.

he’s already looking at you like he’s been waiting for this exact reaction. “surprise,” he says, his voice smug but warm.

you practically tackle him in a hug before you’ve even parked. he wraps his arms around you, swaying slightly in the lot as you tell him over and over that he’s ridiculous and perfect.

inside, it’s a whirlwind. graham insists on getting you matching lanyards for express passes. he drags you to every ride he knows you’ll love, holding your hand the entire time. even when his palms get sweaty on roller coasters.

he buys you a giant churro “because it’s the theme park law” and carries your bag so you can eat without juggling. eventually, you end up in the wizarding world, the cobblestone streets buzzing with people in robes and scarves.

somewhere between the candy shop and the wand store, graham disappears for a moment. when he comes back, he’s holding a scarf in your favorite house colors except, it’s not your house.

he smirks, stepping closer to drape it around your shoulders. “today you’re mine, and i’m a gryffindor, so...” he tucks the ends in dramatically, like he’s just knighted you. “house loyalty is transferable.”