Hello, everybody. Miss Tropical Fishy has not been writing for some time, has she? Naughty, naughty girl, she is. It appears, however, that she has stumbled across a wall-- writers block, it is often called. And also homework, but it's useless anyway so really it's no excuse. And so this stupid wall has been in her way for some time, so many of you have probably forgotten who, exactly, she is. Well. Go to to find out who she is, and in the mean time read the end part to lily angel. Go ahead. It's right there. [and it's very short, too. Sorry.] Song at the end belongs to the Corrs.


Harry slumped upstairs to the common room feeling-- fairly so-- down in the dumps. I myself have never quite understood the whole 'down-in-the-dumps' expression-- are they at a dump? Why is it down? If it was piled up with junk, would it not be 'up in the dumps?' And so on. However, that was exactly how Harry was feeling-- not sad, not exactly angry, or even frustrated. There weren't any feelings to exactly describe his mood, except a mixture of many and that would take far too long to type.

So he was down in the dumps, feeling as low as a poor, stepped on and crumpled coke can.

He replayed the scene in his head-- Lily, joking around for a few moments before hugging him and apologising about Colin Creevey ['perhaps a memory charm would work?'], and James, unsure almost of what to say and then attempting to smooth down his own hair before ruffling Harry's.

And then they left.

It was stupid, really, he told himself, to think they'd stay forever. And to meet them, just to say hi-- hadn't that been what he'd always wanted? And when the Dementors were happily sucking away his own happiness-- hadn't he almost wished, at times, to hear his mother…?

So he'd seen them.

He'd laughed with them.

And now he had to go and convince Colin Creevey he was not dating his mother.

It was laughable. Not now, but in, say, five hundred years, he might have the odd chuckle about it. Maybe six hundred. He wondered how he could explain it to Colin. In his best therapy-voice-that's-good-for-charming-snakes, he'd say 'now, Colin. That was not my girlfriend out there. That was, in fact, my mother. She's dead, you say? Why, that's right! [all the while using no expression whatsoever, as that is likely to upset the patient] She is! However, she came back to earth to see me, you see. Yes. You understand? You're not going to go spreading rumours? Good. Off you go.'

Possibly a memory charm would be more suitable.

Harry entered the Common room, and was immediately bombarded by Ron, who was grinning from ear to freckly ear. 'So, is it true?' He said, raising his eyebrows when Harry didn't speak.

'What?' Harry said.

Ron rolled his eyes. 'That Lillian girl-- Colin reckons he saw you outside with her…so it is true?'

'Well, no, not exactly--'

'Ha! I knew it! I knew it! That's four sickles you owe me, Hermione,' he crowed, dancing around.

Hermione peeped around from a particularly fluffy armchair scowling, while Harry looked from one to the other. 'You betted on me?' He said in disbelief.

'Well- er- technically…yeah.' Ron muttered. 'So anyway,' he said, brightening up immediately 'why were you outside?'

Harry sighed. 'Come on. You too, Hermione. I need to talk to you.'

Hermione frowned, but followed, with Ron jeering all the way 'I-I wo-on and you-ou lo-ost,' until Hermione snatched her wand and silenced him.

The three of them sat on Harry's bed, and once Hermione had taken the silencing charm off Ron, Harry began to speak, slowly at first, not really sure what to say. It was different than Voldemort and Snape and the other things they'd talked about before-- more personal, almost like Cho had been.

'Well-- you know Lillian?'


Heaven is a beautiful place. There aren't many words to describe it because it just is. It's there and it's not-- it does not have to be believed in for it to be there, and you do not have to be a muggle or witch or wizard to be permitted in; it's huge, spanning across endless miles, yet it will never appear upon any map.

If it's raining it's not cold, and while there's light, the rays of the sun cannot harm you.

Lily was glad to be back.

She was off to Paris with Lissy in a few weeks, but because Lissy finally had the situation under control over there, Lily wasn't needed. She didn't feel sad, either, because she had known all along she would have to return…the sadness, the strange empty and hollow feeling that used to exist inside of her had now disappeared, and she was happy. Harry would be there…some day…

And because there was no emptiness biting away at her any more, no bitterness and waiting, for the moment, was fine with her.

It's not everyone who can save the wizarding world, after all.


A long time later, Harry's throat was sore from talking and both Hermione and Ron were staring at him. Hermione's expression was written with what could almost be called pity, and Ron's pale face was confused almost, still decided exactly what to say.

He didn't say anything for a little while-- Hermione filled in a bit of time with her 'oh, Harry's, I'm sorry,' and when Ron finally opened his mouth Harry was quite grateful for a different approach. 'Would you like me to go shut Creevey up?'

It sounded good to Harry, and he was tempted to say yes, but he wanted those honours.

What Ron said next wasn't quite so welcome.

'And she was cute, too. Darn.'

Harry shuddered at the thought.

Then Hermione broke into his thoughts- 'but Harry- don't you want to talk about it or anything? I mean, you must be sad--'

He broke her off. 'No. I don't. Look, can we just forget it?'

Some things you lose forever. Everyone has their own way of dealing with it-- some joke their way around it, trivialising the problem until it's a hidden thought tucked away behind the problems of everyday life, others cry and cry and cry until they are empty. And some people remember when they're all alone and silent, just when they thought it was easier to forget.

Now here you go again, you say, you want your freedom

Well, who am I to keep you down

It's only right that you should play the way you feel it

But listen carefully to the sound

Of your loneliness like a heartbeat, drives you mad

And the stillness of remembering what you had

And what you lost

Okay. That was the end of Lily Angel-- it wasn't how I expected it to end, and I'm sorry if it wasn't very nice or happy or long enough. Some day I may come back and lengthen it a bit, but I honestly don't think there's that much to say…you can make up your own minds on what happens exactly with Lily and stuff if you want, okay? I am sorry I haven't written for ages. Truly ruly. Um. Actually, this story started off just as me being bored one afternoon…so I really hope you didn't hate the end, and I was going to make it incredibly long, tying up a whole lot of stuff, but it all got knotted.

So yes. Have a nice day. Imaginary cake to all. Song belongs to the Corrs.