Response to "Mercury" drabble prompt.

All characters and their origins property of J.K. Rowling. Hermione is 18 or older unless otherwise stated.

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Tyrant... Mad as a hatter... Raving...

He knew how everyone talked now, but he no longer cared. He supposed, if he gave it a passing thought, it was his lack of concern for the opinions of others that probably spurred the reputation he had earned since his return from the Veil.

He didn't care.

One thing that his nearly two decades lost had taught him was that life was short and precious, and not to be wasted on pointless pleasantries. He was kind when his heart moved him to be so, aloof when it didn't, and absolutely brutal when a single person dared to cross him in the slightest way.

His loved ones, the few friends and family that remained after the war, he held close, more than a little protective of those precious few. With time, they had learned to accept his shifting moods, even when they couldn't understand them. "Mercurial" was the term Harry used, his soft smile echoing the wife of Sirius' deceased best mate.

It suited Sirius, with his quick grey eyes ever observing, sometimes judging the world around them, and always sharp, with only one exception.

With her, everything slowed down, softened at the edges. No one knew just how Hermione Granger had managed to tame the savage side of him, but they no longer questioned it. A touch of her cool soft hands, a murmured whisper, or a simple look into her warm dark eyes and the vicious Sirius Black was reduced to a content and sweet tempered puppy.