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Bald
France, South of Paris
February 20th, 1815
I was wheezing when I crested the hill leading into the park. To cowardly to approach the house, I circled around the pond toward the conservatory. The silence that hung over the estate was ominous. By the time I reached the building, I could barely walk. The structure looked like a disemboweled animal, panes of glass shattered and metal ribs exposed. I turned back towards the house, my heart in my throat, noticing for the first time the destruction there. The windows had been punched out, and from the soot-blackened bricks it was obvious that a fire had eviscerated the building.
"Hermione…" I moaned, taking two steps before collapsing on the glass-strewn path. I wiped a hand through my hair and it came back covered in thick locks of the dark strands. Like a bird under stress, I was tearing out my own plumage.
"There you are! I have been looking everywhere for you!"
I rolled over to see Hermione hurrying towards me. Her dress was a brilliant blue against the grey sky, and her hair was wild around her shoulders.
"You are unharmed?" I rasped.
She smiled at me and knelt to loop my arm over her shoulders and lever me upright. "I am just fine. But Severus, really? The fire was a bit much, even for you."
I leaned against her, my face in her hair.
She was leading me further into the park, still half carrying me, babbling happily.
"I have been sleeping more and more now, trying to catch you. Mrs. Fairfax thinks I am… mmm… pregnant." She blushed and turned down another path. "According to the books I had Draco fetch for me… Severus, the lack of information about procreation in your library is positively shocking… Mrs. Fairfax might be right."
"I… er… pregnant?" I managed.
"Come, I've managed to save a little space from your destructive imagination." She ignored my question as we broke through the line of trees and into a little clearing.
The sky was bright; I could hear birds warbling, and the grass was richly green. Hermione led me to a blanket and eased me down onto it. I complied with a creaking of joints.
"Severus, why is your hair falling out?" Worry made her tone sharp. "Are you ill?"
I flopped back onto the blanket. "Just tired. So tired."
She sat next to me, her legs pulled up to her chin, looking down at my face. "Where are you?"
I blinked, "What?"
She took my hand in hers, pressing it against her cheek. "Where in France are you?"
"South of Paris… Hermione, promise me that whatever happens, you won't revile me." I couldn't believe the sentimental drivel that was spewing from my lips.
She smiled and kissed my palm. "Severus, I love you."
I love you.
I woke with a start, blankets tangled, my heart pounding. Staggering to the small grimy mirror, I investigated my hairline; it seemed unharmed. Staring at my gaunt face I whispered, "Don't be a fool."
"There is no moment of my life when you are not a part of me; you hold my heart; you guard my soul; you guide my dreams so tenderly. And if my will might be done, and all I long for could come true, with perfect joy I would choose to share eternity with you." [Robert Sexton]
According my source, going bald in a dream suggests a lack of self-esteem or worries about getting older.
Edited for grammar, capitalization & spelling on April 4th, 2013 [courtesy of renaid, who knows that Hermione is brilliant].
And thanks to orlandoswitch [whose notes on my outline are like a compass pointing to true north].
Edited for formatting and author's notes March 3rd, 2015.