Beta work from Jamethiel, Pidanka, and Bionically. DHr Advent Prompt: Presents.

"Give him a tie."

"He doesn't wear them."

"Tie clip?"

"If he doesn't wear ties, he's not going to use a tie clip."

"That's why it'd be funny. Um—cufflinks. He wears those."

"He's my coworker, not my fiancé. It'll cost more than five galleons to buy cufflinks that he'd deign to wear."

"Hogwarts: A History. He'd love it."

"Now you're not even trying anymore." Hermione scowled at the witch lazily sprawled across her bed, idly teasing Crookshanks with a bit of ribbon.

"No. Truly. I'm giving this my all," Ginny said in a deadpan voice.

Hermione threw a roll of Spellotape at Ginny's head. Ginny caught it expertly and began twirling it around a fingertip.

Hermione wound a ribbon around a neatly-wrapped gift and tied an elaborate bow. "I'm giving gifts to everyone in the DRCMC—"

"I'm still not clear why you're doing that."

Hermione sniffed. "Because I'm nice. And nice people give thoughtful gifts to their coworkers, all of them, even Malfoy. He's the only one left."

"Hermione—" Ginny sighed and sat up. "He's the world's biggest snob. Ron says he doesn't even drink the tea from the breakroom."

Hermione's mouth pursed. "I don't drink that tea either."

"Your point being…?" Ginny raised an eyebrow.

"I have standards."

"That's such a snob thing to say." Ginny flopped back onto the bed.

"The key to a good gift isn't how much it costs, it's finding something the receiver didn't even realise they wanted." Hermione tapped her chin and shrugged. "I guess I'll just have to get to know him better, then I'll figure it out."

Ginny snorted. "Good luck with that."

"Yes?"

Hermione poked her head through the door and stared appraisingly at Malfoy.

Despite working within the same department for over a year, she'd never had a full conversation with him or seen the inside of his office. He worked in the import branch of Magical Creatures, and she was in the legal department for Magical Beings.

His eyes grew cold at the sight of her.

"What do you want, Granger?"

Hermione forced a smile. "I was wondering if you wanted to get lunch with me."

His expression twitched briefly. "Where?"

Hermione shrugged. "I don't know. Where do you usually go?"

"Home."

"...oh."

He rolled his eyes. "Granger, fuck off."

Heat flared across her chest. "Fine."

She stepped back but didn't have a chance to pull the door closed. It slammed in her face.

Maybe she would give him a tie clip. Arse.

No.

She could do this.

She tailed him through the Ministry when he left work that evening, trying to note if he interacted with anyone or carried anything.

He stalked through the halls empty-handed without exchanging a word with a single soul. When he arrived at the Floo, she heard a clipped "Malfoy Manor," as he vanished in green flames.

Hermione stood in the atrium, gnawing at her lower lip.

What did Draco Malfoy need that he didn't realise, aside from a whole new personality?

"What now?"

Hermione held two boxes up. "I brought lunch."

Malfoy looked ready to ram his head into his desk. "What do you want, Granger?"

Hermione gave an innocent shrug. "You're my only colleague I never spend time with."

He raised an eyebrow. "It doesn't occur to you that may be intentional?"

"Could be, but you don't socialise with anyone else either. I decided not to take it personally."

She forayed further into his office without awaiting an invitation and dropped down into the armchair across from him. She shoved a box over. "I brought Banh Mis. There's a Vietnamese restaurant around the corner from my flat. Some of the best in London."

"According to whom?" Malfoy asked in a skeptical tone as he opened the box and glanced inside.

"My neighbor." Hermione bit into her sandwich, and the crust crunched delightfully.

Malfoy was poking his sandwich suspiciously with his wand. Hermione rolled her eyes and pretended not to notice him cast a spell checking for poison.

"So—how do you like working here?" she asked after demolishing her sandwich.

Malfoy shoved his sandwich away and sneered. "I'm legally bound to do correctional work in the Magical Creatures Department for three years; if I fail to meet assigned productivity numbers, I'll return to Azkaban. About how much do you imagine I like it?"

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "More than Azkaban?"

He turned away. "If you're done eating in my office, I have work."

Hermione reappeared for lunch a few days later. And three times the following week.

"What are you doing this weekend?"

"Eating lunch in peace."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I'm planning to drop by Flourish and Blotts tomorrow. See if they have anything new. Have you read anything interesting lately? Or got your eye on anything?"

She studied him hopefully.

He was cataloging a report on spotted newt's eye imports and ignoring her. "If I did, I'd order it by post. Who wants to deal with Christmas mobs?"

Hermione slumped. She was running out of time and patience with him. She forced herself to rally.

"I think it rather fun, trying to find things that might be meaningful to someone. Everyone's all bundled up, and there are carollers. Just think how gloomy winter would be without the holiday cheer?"

His lips curled disdainfully. "Somehow I managed to survive missing it all while in Azkaban."

She sighed. "Well—any other plans besides lonely lunches? Holiday parties? Your mum coming home for Christmas?"

"No." He stared down at his report. "The climate in Great Britain 'disagrees' with her."

She gnawed at her lip. "Holiday plans with friends then?"

He scoffed under his breath. "Honestly, Granger? I'll be at home, drunk."

"That's a horrible way to spend Christmas."

He coolly dropped the untouched lunch she'd brought him into a bin. "You say that like I care. If you don't mind, some of us have jobs we have no choice but to perform."

"A broom polishing kit… Quidditch Through The Ages … Hair gel… A piece of parchment that says "Kick Me.""

"You're useless. Leave me alone." Hermione was crossing off ideas she'd jotted on a notepad.

Ginny shook her head. "Hermione… Malfoy's an arse who isn't worth your time."

Hermione crossed off Quidditch Through The Ages. "I've gotten something for everyone else. I'm not going to give him something generic."

"You've probably spent fifteen galleons buying him lunches he won't eat. No one else is giving him anything. A tie clip's more than he deserves."

Hermione chewed her lip. "I know he's a prat, but… his mum's not even coming home for the holidays. He's just going to be in that horrible house all alone."

There was a silence.

"No…" Ginny buried her face in a pillow and screamed.

"What?"

Ginny lifted her head and stared dead in Hermione's eyes. "You're feeling sorry for him. You're going to take him under your wing and make him your new Spew."

Hermione's jaw tensed. "It was S-P-E-W. An initialism, not an acronym."

"Whatever." Ginny shrugged. "Tell me I'm wrong. Tell me. Swear it on Hogwarts: A History that you don't feel sorry for him and won't invite him to any of our holiday events."

Hermione rolled her eyes impatiently and put her hands on her hips. "I'm—" she sighed. "Just one. He shouldn't—"

"No." Ginny cut Hermione off. "I know you have a saviour complex, but I don't. Malfoy is not ruining my holidays. If you want to adopt, do it on your own time and your own events."

Hermione glared at Ginny and pulled on a scarf and hat. "You are a terrible person, and I will not credit you with any goodness when I write my autobiography."

Hermione stood nervously, adjusting her scarf as she stared at the gates of Malfoy Manor.

She drew a deep breath and tentatively reached out. Before she could touch them, the metal suddenly morphed into Malfoy's affronted face.

She bit back a scream of surprise.

"Granger? What do you want now?"

Hermione caught her breath and stuck up her chin. "I wanted to invite you to go Christmas shopping with me."

The gate froze for a moment before sighing. "No. Now stop setting off my wards. You're giving me a headache."

Hermione stepped closer with an expression of intense determination on her face.

The gate scowled and swung open. Hermione made her way up the path, gripping her wand tightly inside her coat pocket.

Malfoy was standing at the doorway, looking sullen. He was wrapped in a luxurious bathrobe and had all the appearance of someone who hadn't been expecting company. His hair was rumpled, and his face had a squished appearance, as though he'd peeled himself out of bed to come to the door.

"I told you my plans for the weekend, Granger. They don't include you."

Hermione extended a mittened hand. "Christmas shopping. Come on. I'll buy you lunch again."

Malfoy's hand twitched and then clenched into a fist. "Granger, get a cat."

"I have one."

"A dog, then. Toad? Grindylow? I am not available for adoption. Go save another house-elf."

Hermione scowled and stomped up the steps. "Why does everyone think I want to adopt you? You're twenty-three years old."

Malfoy leaned against the doorframe and closed his eyes briefly. "I imagine it relates to your incessant need to take in four-eyed orphan scarheads, alcoholic house-elves, hideous orange monsters—"

"The Weasleys are not hideous orange monsters."

Malfoy raised an eyebrow slowly as his eyes gleamed. "I was referring to that cat of yours."

"Oh!" Hermione's face grew hot, and her voice jumped. "Well—Crookshanks isn't a monster either."

Malfoy snorted and crossed his arms. "Regardless. I am unavailable—for shopping or adoption."

"Come on, Malfoy. You should get out of the manor."

She smiled entreatingly up at him.

He slumped with an aggrieved expression. "Granger, why are you doing this? I've been at the Ministry for over a year; why are you meddling in my life now?"

"Well," Hermione looked down at her shoes. "I've gotten Christmas presents for everyone in the Department, but I don't know what to give you. So I thought—if I got to know you a bit more, I'd figure it out."

She looked up and found him staring at her with an unreadable expression on his face.

"You—" he started and then stopped. "That's—"

Another silence.

"A Christmas present?" he said flatly.

He turned without another word and walked inside, slamming the door in her face.

Hermione stared in astonishment for a moment and then banged her fist on the door. "Malfoy, come back. That's very rude!"

She kept knocking until the door swung open again by a wizened house-elf dressed in a pristine tea-towel. "Master Draco is in bed."

"I'll see him there then," Hermione said, marching through the door.

"Dobbin is not to tell you that his bedroom is on the second floor through the fifth door on the right."

Hermione flung open the door and found Malfoy hibernating under a mountain of bedding. "Get up."

He groaned. "Dobbin!"

The elf popped into sight.

"I'm giving you every sock I own, you're fired."

Dobbin looked unmoved. "Perhaps now Master Draco will no longer leave them on the floor."

"Useless old bat," Malfoy's voice was muffled under the bedding.

Dobbin popped away, unaffected by his terminated employment.

"Get up, Malfoy." Hermione tried to pry him out of bed. "It's a beautiful day. I came all the way to your horrible house. I'm not taking no for an answer."

She gripped him by the wrist and pulled him out from beneath his blankets.

"Go away, you annoying bint. I don't need anything."

"You need socks. You just gave all of yours to a house-elf."

"I'm not buying holiday-themed socks."

"They're snitches with mistletoe on them." Hermione found a pair in his size.

"I would sooner die than wear them."

Hermione stuffed them into his basket anyway. Diagon Alley was crammed with shoppers. Two weeks before Christmas and the shops were packed. The sock aisle was quiet.

Malfoy was visibly sulking while Hermione shoved several more Christmas socks into his basket laying them beside the black cashmere pairs that he had wanted.

"Let me go home, Granger. I don't need socks. I've fired Dobbin about a hundred times, and he never leaves."

When he was handing Galleons to a frosty and impatient sale clerk, Hermione checked her to-do list.

"Who do you need to buy presents for? Got anything for you mum yet?

"No. She prefers to buy her own gifts."

Hermione scrunched her nose. "That's horrible."

"Yes, we've established that you regard everything about my life as horrible. Now, if you don't mind, I'm taking these horrible socks you forced me to buy back to my horrible house where I shall continue my horrible tradition of not celebrating Christmas."

He turned to leave, but Hermione darted around him and stood in his way, holding out her arms so he couldn't slip past. "Wait. We haven't had lunch yet."

He winced and stared at her. "Not today. We've already made enough of a scene."

Hermione dropped her arms and straightened. "What do you mean?"

He gestured around them. "You haven't noticed how mysteriously empty every shop you've dragged me into has become?"

Hermione glanced around and realised that the shop they were in was indeed empty aside from the clerk, who was glaring daggers at them.

"Oh…" she looked back up at Malfoy, who looked resigned. "Well—that's just—ridiculous. You did your time. People can't treat you like a criminal forever. The war was years ago. Good grief."

She raised her voice. "Everyone ought to be ashamed of themselves." She glowered at the clerk. "Don't they know that social isolation can be a key factor in recidivism?"

Malfoy pushed past her and out the door.

Hermione blanched and chased him down, trotting to keep up. "I didn't mean that I think you'd be a repeat offender. I just mean, more generally, that's a factor. Don't be mad. Come on, we can eat in London. Honestly, Muggles make better food anyway."

He scowled the whole way but let her drag him along.

"See?" She emerged from the Floo into the manor late that evening. Malfoy was right behind her. "That was fun. You even almost smiled once, I saw it. Now you have Christmas socks, I have a new book, I found a gift for Ginny. And—I think I know what I'm going to give you for Christmas."

"What?" His eyes were narrowed and suspicious.

She smiled smugly at him. "You'll have to wait and see." She checked her watch. "Gosh. I've got to run. Ginny's hosting this thing, and I'm supposed to be there. I'll see you Monday."

Ginny's expression was severe when Hermione arrived. "What are you doing with Malfoy?"

"Christmas shopping, since you wouldn't let him come tonight." Hermione bustled into her room and stashed her shopping bags. When she re-emerged, Ginny was still staring at her with a disapproving and maternal gaze. "What?"

"Are you really not seeing the weirdness of this?"

Hermione huffed. "I'm being nice."

"You dragged him to the shops in front of half the British Wizarding population. I don't think 'nice' is the impression anyone got."

Hermione waved her off. "He was sulking the entire time. I doubt anyone who saw us would be tempted to believe he was with me voluntarily. Besides, I shop with Harry and Ron all the time. No one cares."

"Harry and Ron aren't anti-social snobs who refuse to speak to anyone."

The next morning, Ginny smacked a newspaper down in front of Hermione.

"That—is not the face of a man involuntarily shopping with you."

Hermione blinked and stared at a photo of herself inspecting socks while Malfoy stood behind her, a very—intense expression on his face as he watched her.

She sat back. "I'm sure it's just an odd moment. He was whinging the entire time."

Ginny sank into the chair across from Hermione with a heavy sigh. "Hermione—I realise dating isn't really your thing, so I'm going to try to explain in simple language. Malfoy. Fancies. You."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "He's lonely."

Ginny snorted. "All the more reason. He's a social outcast with an unbearable personality, and suddenly you're hanging around him being all—" she gestured at Hermione "—sunshiney. What did you expect to happen? The fact he hasn't actually bothered to drive you off means he doesn't actually want to. It's not like you're the first person who'd ever tried to be nice to him. Harry visited him in Azkaban, and Malfoy was a complete bastard. Andromeda's tried dozens of times since he got out. Malfoy is as much an arse as he ever was in school, and if you haven't realised that, then it's because he wants you around."

Hermione snorted derisively. "Or maybe I'm just better at being nice."

"If you keep hanging around him, he's going to think it means something. Just—give him a nice quill and leave him be. Trust me, boys don't look at girls like that—" Ginny tapped on Malfoy's picture in the newspaper "—because they want to be friends."

She knocked on the door the following Monday.

"Lunch?" she asked, peering in at him.

He rolled his eyes but put his quill down.

Hermione seated herself gingerly across from him and shoved a box over.

"I thought I was done with you," he said. "You said you'd figured out what you're giving me for Christmas."

"I thought I had, but I'm reconsidering. Do you have any friends, Malfoy?"

His expression grew cold. "I don't want friends."

"But—we're friends, right?" She smiled at him.

"No. You're what's called a nuisance." He looked back down at his paperwork. "Go harass someone else, Granger. I have a life that I don't need fucked up by you."

He didn't wait for her to leave. He stood up and left instead.

"Master Draco is drunk in his study down the hall," Dobbin said when Hermione Floo'd into the manor that evening. He was wearing the socks with snitches and mistletoe on each ear.

Hermione bustled through and imperiously flung the door of Draco's study open. He was slumped in a chair in front of the fireplace, and his eyes popped open at the sight of her.

"Malfoy, you need an intervention."

He scowled. "I do not. Go away, Granger. I don't want your interference."

"You can't spend your whole life crunching numbers to stay out of prison and hiding alone in this house. Your life needs structure and purpose. You're smart and capable, and nice when you aren't intentionally being rude. You just need to broaden your horizons. I'll help you."

"No." He stood up abruptly and loomed over her, his eyes black. "You won't. You are exactly the wrong person to fix my life. You'll make it worse, the way you already have."

Hermione stared at him aghast. "What do you mean?"

He prowled closer. "Why don't I show you?"

Before Hermione had a chance to say anything, his hand caught the back of her head.

He pulled her forward and kissed her.

She gasped as their lips touched. He drew her into his arms, and his mouth pressed more insistently against hers. His hand slid to the small of her back. His nose brushed her cheek, and she shivered against him. He angled her head and deepened the kiss, cradling her jaw.

It was as though the whole world had burst into flames.

He kissed her a moment longer, then his hand dropped down to rest on her shoulder and he drew back, straightening as she stared up at him wide-eyed.

"That—" he said, sighing "—is why you will make my life worse. You want to be friends, and I don't want to be friends with you. When you realise my existence is not merely a convenient opportunity for you to demonstrate what a nice and forgiving person you are, you'll go, the same way that everyone else does; and I'll be left where I already am, with a life that I'm only just managing to endure. So—let's skip to that point and stop now. I'm sure you are filled with good intentions. I want yours even less than I wanted Potter's."

He herded her out of his study and shut the door in her face before she'd recovered enough to say a word.

He refused to answer his door when she knocked for lunch the next day. He didn't come to the Department's Christmas party that Wednesday evening.

Hermione distributed her gifts to her colleagues but left the party early before they were opened. The gates at the Manor melted when she touched them.

"I brought your Christmas present," she said quickly when Draco answered the door. She held out a box.

"I don't want anything from you."

She stuck her chin up. "Well, too bad. You need this one. Open it, or I'll stay until you do. Careful though, it's fragile."

He scowled and lifted off the lid. A large pair of pointed, oversized ears emerged, followed by yellow eyes and a tiny squeaking meow.

"You got me a kitten?"

"Yes. You need someone. So does she."

The calico creature in question clambered clumsily out of the box and began climbing his arm. Its needle-like claws sank into his robes as it scaled up towards his face, purring so aggressively it was squeaking.

"I don't want a cat." Draco tried to catch it, but it quickly crawled around onto his back, out of reach. "Giving a cat to someone who doesn't want a cat is irresponsible."

Hermione nodded. "I know. I debated it, but—I think you can handle the responsibility of a kitten. I discussed it with Dobbin. He agrees that you need someone to take care of."

Draco glared at her and tried to peel the kitten off his shoulder blade. Hermione stepped behind him, gently untangling the kitten's claws, rubbing her nose against its head before placing it in Draco's hands.

"She's the last of her litter. She's very lonely right now. She needs someone lazy who will cuddle her."

Malfoy glowered, and the kitten began rubbing her face against his knuckles. "I don't cuddle. I am not a cat person. I'll probably starve her to death."

Hermione bit her lip. "I'll come by and check on her. Give her a few days. If you really don't like her, I'll take her back and—I won't bother you anymore."

Malfoy's hands twitched as he pulled the kitten closer, away from Hermione.

She smiled at him. "Happy Christmas, Draco."

"I can't believe you gave Malfoy a cat. That has to be a form of animal abuse."

Hermione sniffed. "It's just what he needs. Besides, his house-elf promised to make sure he took care of it, and I'm going to stop by and make sure she's alright."

Ginny groaned. "You're digging yourself into a hole."

Hermione waited until the weekend to check on Malfoy.

Dobbin appeared as she Floo'd into the entry hall, the mistletoe socks still on his ears.

"Where's Draco? Has he been taking care of the cat or just ignoring it?" She looked for signs of feline destruction.

"Master Draco is in bed with Granger," Dobbin said.

Hermione choked and stared blankly at him.

"He named her Granger?" Her voice jumped.

Dobbin nodded solemnly.

"That prat. I'm going to murder him."

She marched through the house up to Malfoy's room.

He was indeed in bed with the cat, which appeared to be endeavoring to strangle him by sleeping draped around his neck.

"Malfoy, you arse, you cannot name your cat after me. It's indecent."

He cracked an eye open and gave a thin smile.

"It suits her," he said with a drawl. "Irritating. Incapable of understanding what 'no, go away' means. Constantly forces herself into my presence without any respect for a person's privacy. Granger fits her to a T."

'Granger' cracked open a yellow eye and gave a disgruntled mewl before curling herself more tightly against Malfoy's bare skin. He choked and patted her gently.

Hermione put her hands on her hips. "Well I forbid it. It's my surname. You can't use it."

"You can try to stop me, but it's my cat; I can name it whatever I want. I intend to talk about her constantly. 'Granger would barely let me get out of bed this morning. I was trying to finish these forms, but Granger was climbing all over me and demanding my attention, I couldn't say no.'"

Hermione's face felt combustive. "You cannot."

He pulled the kitten off his neck and sat up, cuddling her. She scrambled out of his arms and stretched, yawning, before jumping off his bed to inspect Hermione, her tail standing straight up as she stalked forward.

"I can, and I have. She's registered now. Granger Malfoy is her legal name." He smirked.

"See if I ever give you another Christmas present," Hermione said, glaring at him while Granger wove between her ankles.

The smirk on his face vanished, and he stood up, pulling on a robe. "Right, because giving me a gift was because you were so interested in my life," his tone was saccharine, "and not because I was a convenient means of proving something about yourself."

Hermione's jaw dropped. "What? No! I was trying to be—"

"Nice. I'm aware," he said curtly as he stared down at her. "However, the mistakes of my past, which I already pay for full-time, do not exist as a convenient backdrop for your philanthropy." He inhaled. "I asked you to stop, but you still insisted on having your way. Well, you got it. Now I'd appreciate if you saw yourself out."

He made a clicking chirrup, and Granger instantly scampered away from Hermione, gamboling around at his heels as he strode out of the room without a backwards glance.

Hermione returned home and curled into a woebegone heap on the couch.

Ginny sat down and sympathetically rubbed her shoulder. "Did he already get rid of the cat?"

Hermione shook her head.

"What's wrong?"

"I thought I was being nice," Hermione said, "but Malfoy thinks I was using him."

Ginny snorted. "Malfoy's an arse."

"Maybe—" Hermione mauled at a cushion tassel, "—but he..." her voice trailed off, and she slumped.

"I thought it would be different than this," she finally said. "If I got him a present he liked, that he'd…" she gestured futilely and dropped her hands. "Instead—I feel like he replaced me with the cat. He even named it Granger."

"He named it Granger?" Ginny burst out laughing.

Hermione scowled and went to sulk in her room.

Hermione waited by Malfoy's office the following Monday morning. When he caught sight of her by the door, he froze and appeared on the verge of turning heel and leaving. She reached towards him impulsively.

"Wait, Malfoy, I want to apologise."

He sighed with resignation and came forward, holding the door for her.

Hermoine scurried into his office and stood, twisting her wand nervously in her hands until he turned to look at her with a sharp, impatient jerk of his head.

"I'm sorry," she said after drawing a deep breath. "You were right. When I first started coming in here, I didn't like you at all; you were just an obstacle in showing everyone what a nice person I am, because I wanted to say I gave presents to all my coworkers."

Malfoy nodded tersely, his expression tired.

Hermione gnawed at her lip. "But—but you didn't stay that way. When I realised how lonely you are, I really did care. I do—I do care. I enjoyed shopping with you and having lunch with you, even if you are rude. And—" her voice jumped abruptly "when you kissed me, it was—it was—it was—"

She couldn't seem to make her mouth progress to another word. "It was—actually very nice!"

She clapped her hands over her mouth and then waved them wildly in the air in front of her face.

"I didn't mean that! I mean, I did. I do—I just mean, that what I meant, is that I thought if I gave you a cat and you liked it, then maybe you'd—" she tucked a curl behind her ear and looked away as her voice became very small, "do it again."

She squared her shoulders and avoided his eyes. "But—that's not how you saw it. I'm sorry—that I didn't leave you alone when you first asked me to. You were right about me, that I was only thinking about myself when I first asked to have lunch with you. I'm—I'm really sorry that you were right about that. I really am. I'll listen now and leave you alone the way you asked."

She darted for the door, her cheeks aflame, but halted and turned back.

Draco stood frozen with an unreadable expression on his face.

"You can't give up," she said firmly. "There are people who'll like you if you just let them know you a bit. You should—" she forced herself to smile "—you should put yourself out there. You'll never know—if you don't try."

Then she bolted. She ran all the way to her office and slammed the door.

Catching her breath, she went to her desk and slumped down, burying her face in her arms.

She stayed slumped despondently for several minutes before sitting up and staring at her paperwork.

There was a sharp knock at her door.

"Yes?" she said in a dull voice.

Malfoy poked his head through the door, looking visibly uncomfortable as he stared at her.

Hermione's stomach flipped. She glanced away.

She heard him inhale slowly.

"I was wondering—if you'd want to have lunch with me."

The End

"Yesterday is history. Tomorrow is a mystery. Today is a gift. That's why it is called the Present."

― Alice Morse Earle