Daphne stood on the upper level balcony that was a part of her office overlooking the crowds below her. There was a magical divide so that she could pass through the wall from one side of her club to the other, no one the wiser that the boss could see everything all at once. She let the briefest of smiles flit across her face as she scanned the two rooms. The muggle side was loud and busy, full of people that knew nothing about what was brewing all around them. Living their lives without any of the worries the those on the other side of her magical barrier had to deal with. Before anyone could notice her Daphne had disappeared back into her office and through the wall behind her desk. 

She could hear the music from both sides flowing freely and she casually flicked her wand at the dividing wall, replacing the silencing charm that held the two distinctly separate. With one last appraising glance she swept from her office and down into the midst of the wizarding side of the club. Very few people knew that Daphne Greengrass, the pureblood Slytherin, had indeed bought, repaired and reopened this muggle club in London and that was exactly the way she wanted it. 

She was just another pretty face in the crowd as she made her way slowly towards the bar. She winked at her bartender, who knew that she wanted to be treated no differently than anyone else and ordered her signature Devil's in the Details Martini. Swirling it softly in her hand she let the atmosphere, and the feel of her own magic wash through her. 

Desdemona quickly pulled her dark jacket around her, determined to make it into the club before her fingertips froze off. Slipping into the warm and pulsing atmosphere, she pulled off the coat and handed it to the nearest employee. Her fingers reached up, touching the necklace upon her neck before she narrowed her eyes. She wasn’t here for just leisure — though, quite frankly, the club was a nice place to be — she was here on business. 

It had been decades since she had been back to her homeland, the place where she grew up. And, determined to know what had happened to everyone she had once cared about, Desdemona had been seeking out families that had once been by her side in the Dark Lord’s army. There were rumors, of course, that the girl she was looking for was here. Daughter of a pair of Death Eaters that she had been close with during the First Wizarding War, the woman had apparently purchased this club and made it one of the hottest places in all of London.

Des joined the wizarding side of the club, anxious to get what she needed and get out. She wasn’t in the mood for lavish parties. It felt like things were weighing on her. Approaching the bar, she ordered a fire whiskey and, settling onto a stool, noticed a girl with a very familiar nose. Could it be? 

Desdemona scrunched up her face slightly and cocked her head to the left. That was a distinctly Roderick Greengrass feature. “Things have certainly changed around here, haven’t they?” She said cooly, pressing her glass to her lips as she surveyed the woman. “Wouldn’t happen to know where I could find a Ms. Greengrass, would you?” 

---

Daphne Greengrass

Something shifted in the air around her as Daphne felt someone slip onto the stool next to her. She didn't turn her head, but she let her eyes wander over the woman to her right. She wasn't above blowing her cover and playing bouncer in her own club if the need arose and she scanned the woman with interest. There was something oddly familiar about her, like maybe she knew her? Daphne shook her head slightly, no she would remember her, she had to admit that the woman was terribly beautiful.

Casually she spun her stool around so that her back was to the bar and she could take a better look at the woman without it being too obvious what she was doing. Something about her was making her uncomfortable. Daphne had all but decided that she was going to return to her office and observe from there when the woman spoke.

Daphne raised an eyebrow at the woman, "I'd like to think so." The woman's next question caught her slightly off guard and it did absolutely nothing for the sense of foreboding that was settling over her. She turned to look at the woman full on, meeting her eyes as she answered her. Very few people could be trusted and there was no way that she was revealing herself up front. "What may I ask do you need Ms. Greengrass for?"

She was older and quite a bit wiser than she had been in her heyday. Looking at the girl next to her, she could almost sense the tension. Perhaps she had been wrong and she wasn’t the woman that she was looking for. Then again, perhaps she had been entirely right. She tipped the glass of wine in her lips back, letting the liquid sit against her mouth, but hardly any passed through. She didn’t need to be drunk. Desdemona needed to be sober and ready for whatever was coming. 

In her hunt for allies, she had found that very few of the Death Eaters from the first wizarding war had actually survived. They were growing older and indeed, they were dying off. Either of natural causes or…not so natural. Desdemona could only hope that that fate was not also her own. She smiled, finally, as she let her hands place the glass back onto the bar.

“So you do know her?” She said cooly before shrugging her shoulders. “Oh I do hope you’ll help me out.” Des leaned forward, feigning that she was about to tell a secret before she raised both of her eyebrows. “My employer would hardly like me telling you this, but I’ve been hired to look into the family. You know, all that jazz. Says she’s some sort of old friend. Batty old lady’s probably off her rocker.” Des had the unique ability to lie through her teeth, something she had always prided herself on. She shrugged, leaned back and waited. Now to see if the woman would take the bate.

Daphne had always had a knack for knowing when something wasn't quite right, and she had a feeling that if she looked hard enough this woman's story wouldn't check out. Daphne may not have been a good, little pureblood girl like her father had wanted her to be, but she wasn't a fool either. She was still a Slytherin, and it wasn't just because of her name that she had been placed there. She had everything that is took, ambition and brains. She wasn't going to out herself so easily to the woman. Whatever her ambitions were it was going to take more than "looking into the family" to get Daphne to talk.

She let her gaze sweep slowly over the crowd, as if she were looking in every face for "Ms. Greengrass". She swirled her martini glass in her hand, but she didn't take a drink. In fact she hadn't even bothered to lift it to her lips the entire time she had been holding it. A martini was, for Daphne, more for show than anything. "I certainly don't see her out there on the floor," she turned to look at the woman again, "I'm afraid I didn't catch your name?"

Desdemona smiled faintly before she too began searching the crowd as if she were looking for someone. “Strange. Although I’d imagine she’s quite a busy woman. Owning a club is no easy feat.” She had heard rumors that Daphne Greengrass had recently taken over as the owner of the club. She was running the behind the scenes work.

The woman asked for her name and Desdemona pretended to be surprised. “Oh! How silly of me, I forgot to give it.” Desdemona held out her hand gracefully, almost as if she were a delicate and famed celebrity. But of course, no one knew her in this world. “Jones. Atlanta Jones.” She said, her smile widening. The lie had gone off without a hitch — her sister’s first name rolled easily off of her tongue. “I own a private investigation agency in Hammersmith.”

Des paused, running her fingertip over the lip of her glass and then looking over at the other woman. She needed to know if they were still alive and where she could find them. Desdemona was desperate to track down all her old contacts and see what the years had brought them. From what she understood, many were dead, imprisoned, or worse, living in this prejudiced world that seemed entirely against them. But first, she would need to win the woman’s trust. “The woman who hired me said she knows the girl’s parents from her Hogwarts days. This is the best lead I’ve had in a while… You don’t happen to know the Greengrass family do you?”

Daphne didn't make a habit of trusting people. In fact, she made a habit of trusting no one. It was one of the few things that she had brought with her from her childhood into her adult life, and so far it seemed to have served her well. She didn't comment on the woman's view that it was strange for 'Ms. Greengrass' not to be seen. If anything it made sense, why would the owner of the club be amongst her guests, it was so much easier to observe from the sidelines. She didn't let anything show on her face though, she had perfected a mask long ago that would rival some of the best she had ever seen. Narcissa Malfoy's and her own mother's among them. It was a talent that every truly Slytherin woman possessed.

Only because it was the polite thing to do Daphne took the woman's proffered hand. She shook it, not believing for one second that the woman in front of her had given her real name. She doubted too that Hammersmith Private Investigators was even a real thing. "Pleasure." She released the woman's hand and turned back to the crowd, not intending to give any information unless directly asked, and even then knowing that what she did say would most likely be a lie. Anyone that had a real reason to speak with Daphne would have known her on sight, and would not have been asking for her at the bar.

Upon hearing that whomever was looking for her knew her parents Daphne was, if possible, even more suspicious. This woman really knew nothing if she thought that coming to Daphne was the way to get access to her parents. She hadn't spoken to them in nearly twenty years. "I did." She answered the woman's question, "Once upon a time. But I haven't spoken to the Greengrass's in years."

Inch by inch, Desdemona felt like it was taking hours for her to get anywhere, though she realized that the pair had only been perched near the bar for a few short minutes. This woman was a hard nut to crack, but Des had time on her side – in more ways than one. She reached up and toyed with her mother’s locket around her neck before she offered her drink mate a small smile. She took note of the fact that her companion had not given her name, further more reinforcing her theory that the woman in front of her was a Greengrass and was entirely playing her. 

“Hmm.” Desdemona said, taking a sip of her drink and pretending to look out over the crowd just like she was. She feigned her disappointment in a forced pout that was quickly replaced with a more neutral expression that Des thought better suited Detective Atlanta Jones. “From what my employer tells me, they were quite the family. Rich, Pureblood…how could life get any better?” She wondered aloud, pressing her glass to her lips before she turned around and set it back upon the bar. “But they’re still alive?” Desdemona wondered aloud, pressing her lips into a thin line. Her patience may have been growing thin. She loved the game, but it was much more fun when she was winning.

“Can I be honest with you for a moment?” Des asked, raising her eyebrows. “I’m surprised that one of them owns a place like this. It’s not exactly the Ritz.”

How could life get any better indeed... Daphne had to stop herself from snorting a little at the woman's words. She had learned a long time ago that the Greengrass's were just about anything but perfect, and that life could indeed get a whole lot better. She merely "hmmm"ed at the woman, Atlanta Jones, yeah she still wasn't buying that, and didn't comment. "I suppose so." Daphne looked sideways at the other woman, "I have never heard anything to the contrary, but that doesn't necessarily mean anything." There were plenty of people that would take it upon themselves to cover it up should her parents be mysteriously found dead one day. Daphne honestly couldn't have said in that moment what her reaction to their deaths would have been. Probably not the mourning that was appropriate for one's parents.

Daphne continued to just look at the woman as she kept asking questions. There was really no sense in answering her, and she had already decided that coming downstairs had been a terrible lapse in judgement a few times over. The woman's so called honesty was not anything that Daphne hadn't heard before but it still stung a little bit overtime someone voiced that opinion. Sure the place was no five star hotel, or a glamorous part of the scene in Montecarlo, but what did they expect for something like this tucked away in muggle London?

Instead of voicing her true thoughts on the matter Daphne gave a light laugh, something that she did very little of most of the time. And then she did what any good Slytherin girl would do to protect herself, she lied. "You have a point." She smiled at the other woman, "But then again if you want to keep something a secret, you can't have it making the cover of Witch Weekly." Well, maybe that second part wasn't all a lie...

There were days when Desdemona wished she could live the life she had been living before Voldemort fell the first time. It had been so lavish and there was so much that she wished she could repeat. But the world had changed, and so had she. Reaching up, she touched the locket around her neck and nodded when the woman spoke that she hadn’t heard anything of the contrary. It looked like a stalemate. Des wanted information on her old contacts but this bint wasn’t budging. “Could mean anything. Could mean they’ve just disappeared.” Just like me, she thought curiously. “Then again, could mean they’re lying dead in a cold ditch somewhere.” Des turned, waiting for the woman’s reaction. If she wouldn’t give up the information to questions, perhaps she would have to use another tactic.

Des raised her eyebrows. It was exactly the philosophy she had adopted when she had reinvented herself. As a woman once in a position of power with a Quidditch world title under her belt and beauty that was marveled at from every side of the pitch, Desdemona Vaisey had been a gem. But she had hidden herself, much like this club, under a cloud of dirt and grime to get away with what she needed to. She, perhaps understood it more than anyone would. “That’s fair.” She said, swirling her glass around as she turned to look out over the club, knowing that she had probably insulted the woman. She couldn’t bring herself to care, though, not now. “Though you might expect someone as well known as the Greengrass family to at least put a little effort into cleaning up their club.”