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Holding on to a phoenix's tail feathers: shallowness
Dumbledore, Fawkes, Harry - gone. And it's Fawkes she's thinking of, of phoenixes and fires, and the warmth of the sun on her back as she kissed Harry back down by the lake. She doesn't think she could have kissed or held him harder.
Or been held any harder, even as she was being let go just now. She let him off lightly, knowing she had to, knowing she couldn't touch him, pull him back to her. Instead she used the easier 'like' than the true word, because she is holding on to a phoenix's tail feathers, above all other things.
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