Gellert's birthday celebrations indeed trended toward the elaborate and the hedonistic -- his sixteenth being the one exception. Of course, he fully intended to make up for it on his seventeenth birthday, but that did not erase the disappointment of a milestone wasted.
"I turned sixteen in court," Gellert said. "The East European Regional DMLE and Durmstrang's own authorities hardly offered me cake and good wishes." He swirled his drink around in his glass and then took another, miniscule sip. "I think they did decide to drop the two murder charges that day, though. I'd call it an excellent present, but it's really more of a present that I gave myself, isn't it?" Gellert had manipulated that entire trial, of course. There had never been any doubt as to its resolution. What Gellert wanted was to be expelled, but not imprisoned. To finish school early without a jail sentence hanging over his head. A few felonies on his record was acceptable; Gellert could make those black marks disappear before he ran for Chancellor.
"Had a decent night, though, I suppose," Gellert added after he set his glass back down on the table with a faint clinking noise. "Met up with one of the players on the school Quidditch team. A Beater, I think he was. He was in excellent shape, at any rate." He paused, gaze drifting off to the side and upward, recalling that night in his mind. "...I think I was his first male lover, actually. Flattering, as always."
He caught Albus's eye again, a smile curling at his lips. It would be so entertaining, toying with Albus's jealousy. Because certainly envy existed, there -- Albus's feelings for Gellert were too strong, too ever-present in the forefront of his mind, for jealousy not to be a factor.