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“That boy,” Gellert says as soon as he sees the figure of Albus Dumbledore slowly disappear from his view in the window. “He’s not a ladies' man, is he?”
Perhaps he should have turned around before deciding to voice this, as it seemed as if Bathilda just picked up her cup of tea when he said it from her yelp and the sound of something hitting the carpet.
“Gellert!” she chides, pointing her wand towards the mess beneath her, vanishing it. “What on earth makes you-?”
“Oh please, auntie,” Gellert interrupts, “Don’t deny it. Didn’t you see the way he blushed when I complimented his hair? I hope he is not so obvious around other people; I will pray for his life in that case.”
“I will admit he is of the more... delicate disposition,” Bathilda says firmly with a look in her eyes that made her look like his granny “-but despite all that, he is a proper gentleman, and a kind boy besides, and I will not have you-”
“I am not making fun of him,” Gellert says quickly, before Bathilda could admonish him any further. “We are rather more accepting of all that at the continent, at least us wizards, what the muggles think I have no interest in. You will see no mockery from me. I was merely curious.”
“And,” he adds, walking towards the kitchen to make his poor aunt a new cup of tea, who seemed rather pressed about the conversation already, “He doesn’t seem particularly delicate to me, I thought you said he was a duelling master? There are better words to use, surely? ‘Uranist’ is a classic, but ‘homosexualisten’ is all the rage nowadays.”
It was not as if he minded, on the contrary, it could make the summer far more interesting.