Gellert was glad that the end of the school holidays had left no chance to return to Hexemeer and his family. He packed his trunk with a wave of his wand, just in time for Hermione to appear, sitting on the floor as if it were a luxurious spread. He noted briefly that she was wearing her black battledress beneath a thick travelling cloak - a very different costume to the one she'd worn when she disappeared the night before - the abandoned silk skirts and velvet cloak were laid out where Gellert had left them the night before.

'It's got to be intent.' Hermione remarked under her breath, glowering down at her own attire before she stood up, stretching as if she'd been riding for hours.

'Your clothes?' Gellert asked, shrinking down his trunk.

'Everything.' Hermione huffed. 'It's not you, or I'd appear in Durmstrang every night. It's not your mother, or I wouldn't have been able to stay at Durmstrang. So it must have something to do with where I want to be.'

'You don't know how you do it?' Gellert boggled.

'What? No.' Hermione's reply was distracted as she shrunk her cloak and robes and tucked them into Katana's saddle bags.

'You mean you're accidentally apparating internationally, and you still don't understand how?'

'It's not apparition… so no, I don't know.' She pointed out, airy and dismissive, as if she wasn't discussing groundbreaking magical talent. Instead, she had conjured a mirror, and seemed more concerned with trying to figure out how to braid the forged iron crown into her hair.

Gellert blinked; he considered it just as probable that she'd accidentally discovered some way of performing international apparition without disturbing her magical core as that she'd created an entirely new method of apparition… and weren't the two really just different definitions of the same thing, both equally true. Whether that meant it was no longer apparition, or some yet unnamed ability… the train of thought was feeling far too philosophical, so he instead tucked his trunk into his pocket and started saddling Kelpie.

Eventually, she gave up on her hair and summoned Flighty. Her elf appeared with a crack, surveying the room with tiny hands on hips.

'Missy Hermione is being very naughty.' The elf declared, levelling a glare at Gellert as if he was somehow responsible for the witch's misbehaviour - as if he had any form of control over her.

Hermione, at least, seemed to know exactly what misbehaviour she was being accused of.

'I sent an owl!'

'Miss be sending an owl… saying she be visiting the naughty Master, but then Missy not be coming back that night, or the next! Missy be worrying the Mistress.' Flighty shook a finger scoldingly and Hermione, despite being more than twice the height of the elf, somehow looked small. 'And now, Flighty be finding the young Miss is sleeping with the naughty Master!'

'I was not!' Hermione protested. Flighty put both hands on her hips and made a show of looking around the room.

'Flighty is seeing no chaperones.'

Hermione pointed vaguely at the two beasts, as if hoping that perhaps the house elf might consider them to be a chaperone. Unhelpfully, Kelpie chose that exact moment to reach over and massage Katana's wing joints with his teeth in a display of equine intimacy. Flighty raised one eyebrow impressively.

'Fine.' Hermione surrendered, 'but we didn't do anything, and you know I didn't stay the night.'

'Flighty be knowing.' The elf agreed, snapping her fingers. Hermione's cloak and battle dress cleaned themselves, and Gellert suddenly realised how worn the heavily enchanted black robes were. It was a sign of what they'd lived through that Hermione looked liable to wear out a set of battle robes before her majority, when most wixen went a lifetime without achieving the same.

'But Missy must also be following the rules because others might not be knowing.' The elf continued, admiring the forged iron circlet that Hermione had been given by the blacksmith, then snapping her fingers again and setting new head piece atop the newly formed braids. Gellert couldn't help but think that it looked very fey, in a dark, unseelie, kind of way.

'Fine.' Hermione acquiesced. 'I'll see Gellert off, then come straight home.'

Flighty surveyed her charge for a moment, then seemed to decide that Hermione was being honest and disappeared with a pop.

'Your elf is exhausting.' Gellert observed mildly, half hidden behind the two beasts where he'd been unlikely to land in the line of fire.

'She cares.' Hermione corrected primly, moving over to saddle Katana. Gellert wisely shut up.

They rode slowly up the track towards the ruins of the portal, dipping the last of Gellert's slightly stale bread into the somewhat congealed remains of the stew that they'd made for dinner, passing the transfigured bowl between them. Eventually though, Hermione had to take off, climbing up and up into the sky until her silver-blue mount was barely visible as more than a ripple in the sky, safe from muggle eyes. Gellert nudged Kelpie into a gallop, projecting a powerful notice-me-not charm to deter idle observation.

Katana had the benefit of being able to travel a direct route, and he was admittedly faster over long distances, so it was no surprise that Hermione arrived at the small wizarding settlement first, but she still only swooped in to land at the last moment, just before he reached the edge of the small town.

'Ready?' Hermione asked. Gellert nodded, and they rode in together, once more presenting a united front.

Of course, that only lasted until Hermione bid him goodbye, remaining behind whilst he passed through the portal to Durmstrang with all of the other students. He presumed she would be opening it to Hexemeer as soon as everyone was through.

Of course, news spread quickly that he had reconciled with Hermione, but it seemed that even that news could not repair the fracture between himself and the other coven children. The divide between the Grindelwald children had been widening for years though, with only Berg able to somehow bridge it, and it appeared that the divide had now become so great that even he could not do be friends with both Gellert and the others.

Truthfully, he didn't mind that. Gellert's followers and allies had almost nothing in common with the quiet, bookish boy, and Gellert was rapidly finding himself more at ease among the former. With them, he could express his views without fear of them getting back to Hermione or his mother, no matter how violent and warlike they might be. There was no fighting over political ideology. They were all happy to follow his suggestions.

But there was still the inevitable backlash among them at the news that he'd returned to Hermione's side, which needed to be smoothed over… smoothed over but the news that he'd employed her mighty power to successfully help build the first tower of their new fortress.

He could hardly wait to take them to the place that would be the home to their new movement… and perhaps, when Hermione saw the strength of their combined numbers, she would agree that they could crush the revolution once and for all.