That victorious lilt to Gellert's features, however fleeting, was more than enough. Shock or rampant curiosity would have been telling of an innocent state of mind on the matter. Or perhaps that path for Gellert was simply the logical progression, the sensible step to take in order to achieve Gellert's larger goals. In his own mind, looking back, they both now seemed incredibly young. It was more than a little concerning, to know the extent of what they could plan and progress toward, so early in their lives; what the further future held for the two of them, what they might be capable of, even independently, teased at Albus's curiosity. And a sense of wariness.
"A salon," he replied, ignoring the echoes of a feeling Albus devoutly forced into ambiguity, "in Hogsmeade. In England, not so great a distance from your aunt's home in Godric's Hollow."
It wasn't strictly accurate, but it was true, nonetheless. At the time, Albus hadn't even been terribly sure that he'd been noticed by the magnetic young man on the other side of the generously peopled room. When, a few days later, Bathilda had introduced him as her nephew, Gellert had appeared quite ignorant of Albus's existence. It was too easy to recall the feeling that had coiled strangely in his chest when Gellert had most certainly taken note of him.
How much to tell Gellert, how much to reveal, and what to keep concealed, was a matter under assault by the back of his mind. Something, either his heart or his head, warned him off of disclosing too much. It was impossible not to consider the various ends Gellert might pursue under the banner of his own amusement, despite his present inexperience. For all the rest, Albus was quite certain that no good could come of Gellert being entirely aware of all the cards he held, let alone those he could play.
"But you were only there a few months," and for all their accuracy, those words somehow resonated falsely. It seemed to suggest whole new implications to the complexity of the relativism of local time. Months, and despite the years that separated Albus from them, with Gellert in front of him, so young, and innocent in all the ways that mattered, his past felt as though it was right behind him.