Alone
Harry looked into the mirror. Staring back at him were the kind faces of Lily and James Potter. He pressed himself up against the glass, hungrily drinking in everything he could about them; the slight upturn to his mother's nose; the crookedness of his father's glasses; the smile on Lily's lips that was exactly mirrored on his own. But then he looked over his shoulder.
And he was alone.
No one was really there. It was all just a dream.
In the glass, he watched Hermione walk in. She gave Lily a hug and James a kiss on the cheek, and went to stand beside his reflection, squeezing its fingers.
Then he felt a warm hand in his own. Harry glanced to the space beside him, and was shocked to find Hermione's knowing eyes gazing into his own emerald ones. She leant her head on his shoulder, and Harry watched as she did the same in the scene before him.
His parents looked down upon the pair with approval (and his father mouthed 'snog her socks off', only to have his mother hit his shoulder in a silent rebuke.)
Harry wrapped an arm around Hermione's shoulder and revelled in the warm realness of it. He wasn't alone anymore.