"What's the matter, Evans, can't find a real partner, so you settled for him?" Sirius asked, his voice dripping with faux sympathy, although his pronunciation of the word him was filled with disdain. To tell Sirius was to do something was to risk his natural contrariness kicking in, causing him to do just the opposite. He glanced in the direction of the girls - that way held no appeal for him anyway, which made it easier to remain where he was.
"You wound me to the quick," he quipped, "here I am, come to spend quality time with you, my fellow Gryffindor, and you so callously toss me aside, and for the likes of him? Oh be still, my poor heart!" He clutched at his chest dramatically, dropping to one knee (he'd seen it done in a stage play once, he forgot the name).
Continuing with his drama, he fell upon the ground and "died", before rising to his feet once again, smoothing his robes once again, having fallen into disarray. His countenance was filled with mischief, now that he was started there was no stopping him. "Why'd you want to dance with something like that?" he gestured toward the lean lank figure of Snape, "when you could have your choice of much better partners. I'm sure James is a much better dancer than him. Better looking too. Course I suspect you knew that." It was a short in the dark. He wasn't sure how the redhead felt about his friend, but he sure as heck knew that James was besotted with her. Might as well try to earn Mr. Potter some much needed brownie points. Hell's bells, Evans could do a whole lot better than Snape without even trying. She had some really questionable taste, he thought.