"Is there some reason that you two are on top of each other in Filch's closet?"
"Well, you see, Snivellus, we know the Quidditch closet is your territory—and we, unlike you, don't need to use the school's balls, we have our own"—James flashed a grin and the golden snitch that he always kept in his pocket. "So we figured we'd use this one instead…"
Snape's sallow face flushed a crimson worthy of Gryffindor tower.
"Y-y-you mean—but I thought—you're both—"
"Exceptionally gifted at finding hiding places to perform our various pranks?" Sirius supplied, shaking his hair, which was, at the moment, nearly as disheveled as James', who was grinning and rummaging around for his tie, attempting to keep from looking at his best friend and bursting out in laughter.
"I'm telling you mate, if you wouldn't wear it so loose…" James smacked Sirius's arm, but it was Snape who flinched.
"Filth." He spat. James stood, wand drawn.
"Call either of us that, or ANYTHING again, and I swear I'll—"
There was a resounding crash that had nothing to do with Peeves or the prank they'd been planning and everything to do with its interruption.
Sirius had tipped a bucket of what looked like cat sick mixed with dirty dishwasher, the one where Filch kept his mop, over Snape's already rather grungy hair, dozens of magical cleaning products falling to the floor along with it.,
"I'm sorry, Snivellus, but James and I can't stand to be around such filth. Looks like even soap and water won't wash it out! Come on James, let's go, the smell is simply dreadful."
"And the sight isn't much better."
They walked off without looking back, leaving a trail of, as *Snivellus* put it, filth in their wake, not afraid to let any and every one know that they had something to do with what others saw as dirty.
To them it had always been, and always would be, just another part of the plan.