Although he loved Christmas, Harold Hill would freely admit the Fourth of July held a special place in his heart as his favorite holiday. While some puzzled over the seemingly unromantic choice, he knew others simply chalked up his affection for the nation's birthday celebration to his own insatiable thirst for pomp and pageantry. Only two people knew the real reason behind his quiet insistence of the Fourth over other traditionally-accepted favorites, and of those two, only one understood the true significance of the date.

After last year's rousing spectacle and subsequent evening of cat and mouse with the frosty, yet charming, librarian, Harold still had a hard time believing how much had changed between this afternoon and the chilly reception he had received one year ago today.

Whereas Marian Paroo had shot daggers at him from her vantage point at the piano bench, Marian Paroo Hill kept casting heated glances at her husband as he led the band in a rousing rendition of the Stars and Stripes. He smiled to himself. Whoever imagined Sousa could be so romantic?

As he led the boys into another bombastic refrain, he made a mental note to discover if his lovely wife found the march as equally enticing as he did.

XXX

On July fifth, the sun was well established in the morning sky when Harold Hill finally opened his eyes to greet the day. Stretching his arms high above his head, he groaned in satisfaction as he felt his muscles loosen. Glancing over at his still-sleeping wife, he grinned. Marian had found the patriotic music just as compelling as her music professor.

Flirting shamelessly with one another as they left the auditorium, the librarian and music professor were soon exchanging heated glances as they neared their home. Even the unexpected appearance of Mrs. Squires passing by had done little to dampen their enthusiasm. They had no sooner gotten inside their front hallway before Harold found himself pressed against their parlor wall as Marian's skillful hands expertly unbuttoned the many fastenings of his uniform coat. A bit dumbstruck at the librarian's enthusiasm, it had taken the music professor a moment to regain his focus, but once he had, Harold eagerly joined in, divesting his wife of what he deemed completely-unnecessary clothing and whisking her upstairs to their bedroom to celebrate the nation's independence in a rather unorthodox fashion.

Recalling the last several hours, Harold chuckled. He and Marian had spent the better part of the afternoon and well into the evening marking the occasion. His usually decorous wife, entirely spent from their exertions, hadn't even managed to slip on her nightgown before falling asleep. Harold, who did slip a nightshirt on, had tenderly tucked the covers around her before gathering her close in his arms and following her in slumber. It had been unexpected and delightful, and he hoped they'd have another opportunity – soon – to repeat it.

Casting his mind over a mental calendar, he briefly wondered how she felt about Labor Day. Although it was still relatively new, Harold thought every holiday deserved an equal chance. He'd have to make sure to ask her about it. But first, he'd have to coax her out of slumber. They had several things to do today, and as enticing as it was to consider an afternoon spent in the bedroom with the lovely librarian, he knew she'd give him a good scolding if he didn't wake her soon.

Scooting closer to his wife, Harold pulled her into his arms, delighting in the feel of her warm skin against his as he began to shower her temples with tender kisses. A breeze drifted in from a nearby window, lifting stray wisps of her golden hair and ruffling his own disheveled locks as Harold bestowed affection on Marian, who slowly began to wake.

"Good morning, Mrs. Hill. You look particularly lovely today." He lowered his head to nuzzle her neck, his lips tracing an abstract pattern. Marian sighed contentedly at her husband's ministrations and let her head fall back, granting him better access.

"Honestly, Harold," she murmured. "I'm certain I look anything but lovely."

Harold smiled against her skin. "Darling, you are all sorts of lovely." He brought his hands up along her waist and began to trace lazy circles along her stomach, which elicited a tiny moan from his wife.

"We're going to be late," she scolded, but her admonition lacked any trace of genuine concern and she raised her lips to his for a kiss.

"We're newlyweds," Harold murmured, obliging her. "It's excusable."

Marian laughed and turned in her husband's embrace to face him. "Harold! We are not newlyweds. We've been married for almost seven months."

Harold's eyes lit up with amusement. "Seven months! Has it really been that long?" His hands stealthily crept higher along her sides as he nestled closer to his wife. "Why, it seems only yesterday I carried you over the threshold."

Marian giggled. "Harold, it was yesterday! I'm not certain what got into you, but you were in quite the playful mood! I still can't believe you did that. And with Mrs. Squires passing by on the sidewalk!"

Harold laughed and attempted to appear contrite. "What can I say, darling? You bring out my mischievous streak. I can't help but indulge in frivolity when you're around." He chuckled even more when Marian rolled her eyes at his explanation.

"But, never fear," Harold assured her. "I'm confident Mrs. Squires will recover from her shock." He leaned in and stole another kiss. When he pulled back, he regarded her with an arch grin. "Besides, I believe I made up for any embarrassment I may have caused you once we were inside."

The music professor watched with amused pleasure as Marian's cheeks flushed a delightful shade of pink at his scandalous comment, and then he grinned, satisfied by her unspoken confirmation that he had, indeed, atoned for his indiscretion.

"But, you have a point, my dear," Harold ruefully conceded as he finally took pity on his blushing wife. "We did promise your mother we'd visit this afternoon." He reluctantly disentangled himself from his wife's embrace and swung his legs over the side of the bed as he sat upright to stretch his lean form. He began to rise from the bed, but stopped when he felt a hand catch the sleeve at his elbow.

He turned to see his Marian gently tugging on his arm with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. At his questioning glance, she returned his gaze with a coy smile. "Are you certain you want to leave this comfortable bed so soon?"

Harold's mouth fell open, and he looked at his wife with unconcealed amazement. He couldn't help remembering their honeymoon, when his lovely librarian had not dared to indicate her desire with anything more than a gentle tug on his sleeve. Now Marian was unabashedly offering him an invitation – she really had come a long way in just seven months!

"Why, Madam Librarian, what a delightfully forward suggestion!" He leaned closer and ran a hand along her bare shoulder before dropping a wink. "Are you implying what I think you are?"

Marian merely smirked at him with impish amusement. "I don't know, Professor Hill. What are you suggesting that I'm implying?"

Grinning widely, Harold quickly slipped out of his nightshirt and slid back into bed beside his wife. Gathering her in his arms, he brought his lips closer to her ear and seductively murmured, "Perhaps we should discuss this further, Mrs. Hill."

He was immensely gratified to hear Marian sigh in contentment as his lips began to travel a familiar path along her throat and continue downward along her smooth skin.

"Yes," she whispered. "I think a thorough conversation is in order."

Trailing his lips and hands across her bare skin, he murmured his agreement without words.