An ENTERPRISING OMEGA

69: Coronation

The Palace of Versailles under the snow. Voldemort was observing the carefully trimmed gardens, the paths had been reinforced to avoid mud and other dirt while craftsmen finished placing the rare flowers that could stand to bloom in winter. He held a number of parchments while many lights revealed a little more the places of the Yule Ball, the first of the empire. He was not yet wearing his official outfit and he was in no hurry to put it on because that would mean going to make rounds with the invited guests.

It took a lot of people to hold an empire and Voldemort could almost regret the time when things were simpler for him. Almost. He was a bit too proud of his achievement not to want to see these poor people kneel before him and his people again and again. Footsteps echoed on the smooth parquet floor decorated with fleur-de-lis patterns. Proof that royalty was not dead and even that an empire could extend over Western Europe. Voldemort did not turn his head, he already knew who was joining him and why.

— Yes, Barty?

— Everything is in order, my Lord. The bodyguards are constantly watching your apartments and His Highness requests your presence to dress your children.

Of course Harry was going to have him come back to help with the dressing, especially since he had chosen sumptuous and even slightly pompous clothes for their little ones. However, it was their second meeting with the big world, the heirs had to be up to the task. The fact that they were only two months old was not enough to not take all the precautions, on the contrary. Voldemort knew that he had to make a big deal out of it so that people would understand that this was his legacy and that these babies would reign, one day or another.

— Let's go. Nikolai has already arrived, hasn't he?

— Yes, my Lord. The Tsar tried to obtain an interview with His Highness, which was of course refused for the moment. He bets that it was only to personally deliver his gifts for His Little Highnesses, we followed your orders to the letter.

Voldemort began to walk briskly down the long corridors after a glance at Barty. The young man had not put on his suit of light any more than he had, he even seemed to be sweating a little too much given the season.

—Is there something you're not telling me, Barty?

Voldemort's voice wasn't exactly sharp, but it let it be known that he didn't have time for the bowing and turning, especially at this hour. Everything had to be nearly perfect for tonight, he couldn't bear it any other way as his disciple finally confessed.

— Abraxas is ill, my lord. He has taken some potion, so there is smoke coming out of his ears. He fears he will not be ready to welcome everyone.

Voldemort winced slightly. His best friend was still in somewhat fragile health. It didn't matter that he had made him look more beautiful and more in keeping with his vanity. The dragon pox had done irreversible damage that could only be cured with high Dark Magic. Except that what magic would require to act could be things that Abraxas could not give. Also Voldemort had never suggested that he go further and the result was there. He hissed in irritation in Parseltongue and Barty hastened to add.

—Lucius is ready to take over if necessary, Milord.

—It has to be Abraxas. If he doesn't look better in half an hour, bring him to me.

— Good, my lord.

Voldemort waved him vaguely to return to his duties and stepped into the royal apartments of the castle. He could already hear Harry cooing to their little ones, which put him in a better mood as he came to hug him, discovering over his shoulder a Dorian stirring as if to escape his bed. They exchanged no words as his omega finished his task, Voldemort instead searched for their princess to find her in the middle of their bed, surrounded by the rings of muscles of Nagini who teased his cheek with her tongue. The baby smiled at it.