This was the place he came to think, whenever anything got to be too much for him.
He had been coming here increasingly often, of late, more so as things really began to spiral out of his control.
He'd found this little clearing, off a side-alley near Grimmauld Place. It used to be a children's park, but the skeletons of the slide, swing-set and roundabout were all that remained of it now. It wasn't exactly out in the middle of nowhere, but it was small enough to remain unnoticed now that it was no longer functional. Graffiti covered every available surface, and cigarette butts littered the patchy yellowed grass, but even the teenagers with no where else to go had eventually abandoned this place.
But not Regulus. He visited that little park nearly every night now, leaning against the framework for the swings, the seats and chains long gone, or perched on one of the rotting seats of the wooden roundabout. He always steered clear of the slide, though there wasn't a particular reason for it. Maybe because it was under the shade of an overgrown tree, which blocked out what little light the stars and moon could provide, but he'd never been afraid of the dark.
This was his sanctuary; he had nothing to fear here. No one would find him; there were no duties or responsibilities or unsavoury tasks.
At first, he'd set up as many protection spells as he could, designed to repel both wizards and Muggles alike, but he'd long since passed the need for them. It was clear now that this place was his, and his alone.
And, almost every night now, he would retreat here, to the safety and seclusion the little park offered. And in those nights, it became his world.