Alastor chuckled. "Aggravation? Me? But, I'm such a well-mannered individual," he declared in mock outrage. He remembered that birthday party, though. His parents may have been purebloods, but they lived amoung muggles. Even then he'd preferred muggle clothes to wizarding for their practicality. But, a birthday party at the McKinnons, manners said he should wear robes.
Only, the birthday girl hadn't been.
"Your mother certainly wasn't like any of the other mothers," he said fondly. He remembered her mother being much like the daughter, after all.
When she teased him about the time away, he scowled. "Really, magic works? I had no idea." Alastor shook his head. "Moderation." Looking at her for a moment, he sighed. He'd been giving in to her for twenty-seven years, after all. Why should he think this would be any different. "One a month, tops."