He knew that it was his birthday that drew him to where he was told his grave was. Percy didn't fancy himself a morbid man, but it seemed fitting that he would visit today, on his birthday. He'd spent most of the day morose and filing dusty old records concerning something insignificant.

Percy found himself almost hoping that someone would be there, in the small little cemetery. No one was there, but there had been people there, and recently. It seemed that his family had been by.

He picked each item up one by one, and considered them. He wasn't surprised by the books, and actually looked forward to reading each of them. The wildflowers made him smile. Percy knew they had to be from Penny; that was something only she would think of.

"Thank you," he said softly, the wind carrying away his words. His heart ached that he couldn't tell them that they should be celebrating today, not mourning. He wanted to hold his son and hear about all the little things Jack had done in his day. He wanted his mum's biscuits, and to talk about spark plugs with his dad. Yearned to be teased by his brothers.

His fingers traced slightly over George's stone.

"I miss you, too. I wish we could have switched places. That you were still here with us little brother."

Tears pricked at his eyes and Percy pulled his handkerchief out of his pocket to dab at his face before his glasses were smudged.

It was unfair. All of it. Percy slumped down, and pulled the flask of cognac out of his pocket. He was going to get stinking drunk, and then try not to splinch himself as he Apparated home.

"Happy bleeding birthday to me."

{Summary: Percy makes a visit to his grave on his birthday.}