Title: Losing Rin
Author: Tsubasa Kya
Disclaimer: Sadly, I must resort to wishing on both parts.

NOTE: Please don't kill me I have had another idea, and through several rather expensive shrink-sessions with my best-friend/muse/PDA (seriously, she keeps me on track), I think I am finally ready to start writing the kinky HPInu Crossover I've had in mind. I owe you big, feathergriffin… hopefully you'll forgive me for starting yet another story since it is a HP one… Now, if you'll excuse me, I must hastily write out my will… just in case something should happen. - TK

IMPORTANT: This story follows the final chapter of HP7 (Deathly Hollows). I have scrapped the Epilogue since we all know it was crappy and not as well done as Mrs. Rowling could have done it. Obviously as you will come to notice, I have also changed things, since I am not following the timeline somewhat provided by the Epilogue. Again, I am NOT following the Epilogue's timeline. This story is canon Inuyasha and canon HP even though I scrapped the HP Epilogue.

Inuyasha/Harry Potter Crossover
Pairing
: Fred/Kagome/George

Chapter 1

His shoe barely missed the half-frozen Garden Gnome as he sulked through the garden of the Burrow toward the chicken coop. He didn't dare go any further beyond the house because he knew a proximity barrier had been put around the place, not to keep others out, but to keep him in. He had grown tired of the inner confines of his parents house however, and couldn't stay inside the stifling building for another minute without exploding.

A scowl lingered on his blue lips. Already he was getting cold. It was the middle of winter, after all, and he hadn't slept well or eaten right in years, no matter that everyone who knew him were ready and willing to do anything for him, even feed him if he asked. He could hear the Christmas celebration noise from the Burrow and only scowled further.

How could they be happy? George Weasley moaned as once more a pale, lifeless face plastered itself to the window of his mind's eye. The face, so very like his own, had seemed like marble and it had not been warm at all. He was as cold as stone, colder even, and George hated his brother being that way. Tears prickled at his eyes and his depression grew worse than it had been in months.

The holiday gatherings always made him feel worse, because he would remember his brother and all the pranks they would play on everyone else. He would remember his sister, Ginny's, shrieks and his older brother Percy would always get so mad whenever a prank was pulled on him. He could remember turning Percy's hair pink one year with Fred at his side. They had cackled in laughter before dodging a thrown book.

Since Fred's death, George had been quite worse off, his depression sinking deeper and deeper into his soul, consuming him. He couldn't live without his brother, because everything reminded him of Fred. They had always been two in a bundle. They did everything together.

They were born together, they started school together, they dropped out of school together, they started a joke shop business together, they fought together, and even sometimes switched roles and shared girlfriends. They both knew the dangers of fighting against Voldemort and his minions, both Death Eaters and non-humans. They both had known very well there was a chance they would die. After all, the battle wasn't a game.

There had been dead lying everywhere, some of them were enemies and some of them were not. A lot more of the enemy actually survived, because killing blows weren't always taken by the good guys even if the opportunity arose.

His heart clenched painfully in his chest, and tears froze on his thin cheeks. He was so undernourished because of his own lack of interest in life that he looked almost like a skeleton, gaunt cheeks and somewhat sunken eyes, rings of a dark and heavy nature round his eyes from not sleeping. If George had been there, he could have done something.

But they really hadn't been fully prepared for what would happen if only one of them died. After spending a lifetime together, and even when they built their shop in Diagon Alley, the two of them still shared a room together instead of building separate rooms. Though they were two people, they sometimes never thought that way. And now, the duo was a solo, and George couldn't stand the silence he received at night when it used to be filled with jokes as they would prepare themselves for bed. He had always just assumed that if one of them died, the other would too.

With another miserable whimper, George felt like the world was yet again crashing in on him and longed for his brother's company, exhausted but unable to sleep, hungry but unable to stomach anything more than a bite-sized rice cake, cold…but unable to leave the snowdrift he currently sat in beside the chicken coop.

The last five years had been the worst of his life, and he couldn't picture the next five being any better. The twenty-six year old hugged his knees and let his forehead rest on his bony knees. Everyone inside was so happy to spend Christmas together, and he bet none of them even noticed his absence.

Ginny had invited Harry Potter over for Christmas, and he had brought their two sons along. Ginny wanted to work things out in their marriage, but apparently Harry had some sort of problem with the fact that Ginny's third child (whom she was currently pregnant with) didn't actually belong to Harry. Of course, Harry did get custody of his two sons, since George's parents completely agreed with Harry that the boys should be with their father. Harry also brought his Godson Teddy Lupin along, who had come to live with Harry after Teddy's grandmother Mrs. Tonks died in a freakish three-broom pile-up over a lake while on a tour over Scotland's lakes. Teddy had been staying with Harry at that time, so he remained unharmed.

George's younger brother Ron had come home with his wife and long-time friend Hermione. She was, apparently, keeping him running around with things to do whenever he wasn't working. Hermione had insisted that she, Harry, and Ron go back to school and finish up their last year though both boys didn't enjoy that idea they had still gone. Ron and Harry managed to get enough of an education (both from experience and from school) to scrape their way into working as Aurors for the Ministry of Magic. Of course, Hermione and Ron had a daughter the same age as Harry's oldest, and another child on the way.

Percy came home, after a touching family reunion just before Fred died that had resulted in a few lazily tossed jokes before everyone got serious again and George's mom stopped sobbing happily. Percy had brought his 'friend' home for the holiday this year, to introduce him to the Weasley family. George was pretty sure Percy and his friend Mercus Bekibonks weren't sharing a bed because the Burrow was cramped. Percy's floor had plenty of guest room, and Percy's bed wasn't exactly built-for-two.

George's older brother Bill brought his wife Fleur over for the holidays, and Charlie, George's other-other older brother came home with his muggle girlfriend who still had doubts about the reality of magic even though she'd seen it performed many times. She was a muggle magician and worked with tricks all day every day so she believed all magic could be explained through a hole in the hat or a bit of fish-wire.

With all the people in the Burrow, not to mention the sickly transformed ghoul in the attic, George preferred the frozen snowdrifts by the chicken coop because to top off those who had come to stay for two weeks, they also had to deal with cheerful other people popping in at random times to wish New Year happiness and Christmas giving.

George pulled up his sleeve and rubbed the long, jagged scar on his left wrist with the thumb of his right hand. The last five years, just thinking about them, made him want to vomit. Lee Jordan was taking care of Fred and George's Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes now, because George apparently wasn't in a fit state to be alone for an extended period of time. Lee always told George if he wanted the business back, he could have it any time. It was hard for Lee to keep the joke shop going and his news program which had become so popular during the time when Voldemort was at large with his "Potterwatch" news program. He still did his news program, but it had been renamed.

Movement caused him to lift his head from his knees and he wearily stared as his father crunched through the snow toward him, wrapped in a heavy winter cloak. George hadn't grabbed a winter cloak. He simply went outside, wearing nothing else than a tee-shirt and ragged old jeans that had once belonged to Fred. He knew they were Fred's because their mother had sewn Fred's name on the left pocket.

Every night, someone came out to sit with him. He wasn't trusted alone anymore for some reason. Last night, it had been Harry who tread through the snow with his younger son tagging along behind him. Harry hadn't said a thing, and his son only curled up in his lap, three years old and tired after a long day singing carols. Harry knew George didn't come outside to converse with people, so Harry hadn't said anything.

Arthur Weasley was another person entirely. He sighed heavily and immediately drove into his conversation. "Georgie," he began, and George remembered being made fun of many times by Fred for being called Georgie (only to immediately pick fun at Fred for being called 'Freddie'). Weary lines of age crinkled Arthur's usually cheerful features. "Your mother is starting to worry about you…"

Had they really noticed George's absence? Maybe it was because the only person with only one ear wasn't there anymore? George didn't respond to his father. His eyes became glazed and he stared at nothing before Arthur continued softly.

"You, you aren't having - um, bad - thoughts again, are you?" His eyes darted toward the very visible jagged line that ran up George's left arm.

George shook his head clear of the daze before blinkingly replying, "No. I want Fred." he told his father. He responded only because he knew the alternative option was St. Mungo's, and he didn't want to go back there again. No, he couldn't go back there again.

Arthur sighed, "I know, I know you do. We all do." He shifted out of his heavy cloak and put it over George's knees and tucked it over his shoulders as much as he could and being as careful as he could.

"You don't act like it," George said dully.

"We have to move on, Georgie," Arthur said hesitantly. "Would you want Fred to hurt himself and not eat and not sleep if you passed away instead of him?"

"I can't move on," George said. "How can I live without him, if all I see is him in anything I do?" he demanded. No answer was awarded, because his father didn't have one for him. "How can you all be in there, be happy, and celebrate when Fred isn't here to celebrate too?"

"How long are you going to torture yourself, George?" his mother asked suddenly, tears standing in her eyes as she stood before George. George wasn't sure when she got there; he didn't notice her approach or her presence until she spoke, and it startled him.

He looked up at her, but could only bear to look at her for a few seconds. He looked away, instead finding himself mute and staring at a small loose strand in the fabric of the cloak. He didn't respond.

"Honey, please, let me talk to the boy," Arthur half-begged. None of them really knew how to deal with George's depression. George didn't know how to deal with it either. Fred had died smiling, but was he really happy to be dead?

"No, Arthur," Molly said sternly, kneeling in the snow in front of her son. "I have tried all I can, but I can't take any more of this, George. I love you, and I can't continue watching you do this to yourself!"

George still didn't look at her, and he still didn't respond.

"Molly, please," Arthur said, moving to wrap his wife in an embrace. She clung to Arthur, but held back the tears that so wanted to fall with remarkable will and determination. "Please, go back inside," he said.

She nodded and she did go back inside, but each step she took looked like the one that would be made just before an abrupt turn-around. The door closed on the inner confines of the Burrow. A few minutes later, Arthur was confident enough to continue speaking.

"George, I know it's been hardest on you. Heavens know your mother wasn't much help constantly thinking you were Fred when you wore that cap of yours." He had a hat that would cover his left ear so that people couldn't see that he was missing an ear. He didn't have a problem with the ear thing, until Fred died.

Arthur continued, "But all you're doing now is hurting yourself and everyone else, and I don't want you to feel like a prisoner your whole life. Can we make a deal, George?"

George sniffed a little, feeling like breaking down and crying. He managed to hold back, and he nodded. He was willing to hear whatever it was he wanted, but that didn't mean he would agree to it after he'd heard it.

"One month," Arthur said. "Just for one month, go somewhere that you and Fred never were. Go somewhere that doesn't remind you of Fred. Spend one month, not thinking of Fred, but think of yourself. After one month, come home. If you still can't help but think - those - thoughts, then… well, I won't stop you again, George. Just one month. If you can't do it…"

George glanced at his father and knew the man meant well by him. He nodded sadly. "I'll go," he promised. "Just one month, but there's nothing without Fred. I don't know why you won't accept that."

"The barrier is gone now. You can leave whenever you're ready," Arthur said before making his way into the house. No, George knew there was nothing without Fred.


Thanks for reading. Please leave a review. The story will not be as sad as this chapter. I hope to fill it with loads of humor. After all, we'll have Fred and George and Rin and Sesshoumaru and Kagome and oh so much fun! I hope you liked this!