Snape stepped into the dank mist of Knockturn Alley, his foot narrowly missing an alarmingly chunky, yellow pile of vomit, no doubt left by wild partygoers.
Of course Dumbledore was here, Snape thought, sneering at the memory of the great Albus Dumbledore reduced to a fool singing karaoke at this time last year. This memory was, of course, much less amusing given that Dumbledore's antics were the very reason he was no longer enjoying a soak in the tub and reading How to Discipline your Vampire.
His hastily-donned black cloak swirled around him as he stormed through the alleyway, being careful not to stride through any other vile puddles adorning the path. Upon reaching the entrance to Muggle London, Snape adjusted his black turtleneck, pulling it to impossible heights as a sort of frumpy armour against the world. With a sigh he stepped into the street and turned left, heading towards the muggle club that Dumbledore mentioned in his missive.
As he walked through the busy crowds lining the street, Snape noticed the attire of the other partygoers, the very tiny, neon, spandex attire, which had him sticking out like a sore thumb. Being sequestered in the Scottish Highlands had left Snape slightly disjointed from the realities of the rest of the world. Upon leaving he had donned his woolly, black ensemble in the hopes of retaining a low profile. Unfortunately, he had not considered the fact that it was Augustand England was experiencing some particularly balmy weather. This led to some gawking from the crowds. Snape even received a few catcalls of: "Oi, look at that great black bat," and "Bit too early for a costume party, mate." One man had even referred to him as a "Daddy," although Snape was quite certain he had not fathered any offspring.
"Dunderheads," Snape muttered under his breath. He was quite out of his depth here, as his own teenage years had been spent brooding in solitude. Candy bracelets, pacifiers, and glow sticks were foreign to him and he couldn't understand their appeal as accessories.
Snape finally stepped into line at the Cockpit, feeling more out of place than he had when he danced with Minerva McGonagall at the Yule Ball. A line of men stretched before him, clad in all manners of neon and leather, with various glowing accessories and some more daring pieces...
Were those blue nipple clamps? Snape's eyes widened. What kind of place had Dumbledore brought him to?
Snape shifted in line, slowly making his way to the front. Finally, he stood in front of the bouncer.
"Hello, uh, I would like to be permitted entrance," Snape strained, plastering on a fake smile.
"Are you sure you're in the right place honey," teased the bouncer, a tall broad and serious looking man who spoke with an unexpectedly high pitched voice.
Having already clearly fucked up the first rule of espionage 101, blend into the environment, Snape decided to ditch his muggle facade and placed a wandless confundus charm on the bouncer before billowing through the club entrance.