"Hanna, why is there a house-elf beating itself in the parlor over some nonsense about it not being an adequate cook?" Draco called as he entered the kitchens. Stopping when he noticed his very pregnant wife laboring over one of the old ovens.

"Dear what are you doing?"

"Baking."

"I can see that. Why?"

"Shh," she silenced as she opened the heavy iron door to the antique oven. With specially charmed mittens she began to ease out a cake tin and inserted a toothpick into the cake's core before removing it. "Good. That's one done."

Draco was on the verge of asking why his wife, of just over two years, wanted to stab food with a toothpick when a small hiss came from the injured bake good. Not seconds later it collapsed.

"Damn."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "You did just stab it. What did you expect to happen?"

Hannah glared at him before waving the ruined cake away. "Good thing I have six more."

"Six?"

Draco slowly, like he was approaching a wild animal and not his wife, embraced Hannah from behind. His head lightly resting on her's. "What's wrong?"

She sighed and leaned into his warmth. "I am just like my mother. When she is upset, she cooks."

"Ah," Draco nodded. Waiting for her to tell him more.

"It's the baby."

He stiffened and turned her around in his arms. "What about him?"

Draco's increasing dread rose even higher when his wife refused to met his eyes. He forced himself not to shake her. Not to make her tell him what the matter was.

"That's just it. He isn't a he but a she."

Draco blinked.

That couldn't be right. He must have heard wrong. Since the sixteenth century Malfoys could only produce one son a generation. Thanks to a curse.

"It's a girl Draco. We're having a girl." Hannah clarified her anxiety mounting with each passing second Draco kept quiet.

"Are you sure?" he finally asked after several minutes had past.

Hannah rolled her eyes. "Yes. I'm sure. I have the paperwork from St Mungo's to prove it."

"Saddled with prejudice and spite. Your line will continue but no witches will your sons sire. Only wizards till one of your sons overcomes the bigotry of his house. Only then will Malfoy witches be born again under the House of Malfoy." a voice echoed around them. Draco reflexively pulled his wife behind him, shielding her, as he scanned the vacant kitchen for the source.

"Who's there? Show yourself!" he demanded.

"Who are you talking to Draco?"

"To whoever just spoke."

"Draco no one spoke, except me. We're alone."

He frowned. "You didn't hear -"

A loud clear laugh stopped him.

Hannah's attention quickly transferred from Draco as a bell rang, "My cakes!"

Maybe it had been just his imagination?

Yeah right, and he had been sorted into Gryffindor. He needed a drink.

Fini

Disclaimer: The Wizarding World of Harry Potter does not belong to LittleTee, (who shall henceforth be referred to as "The Author.") While the plot of this fanfiction, (henceforth to be referred to as the "Story,") is of The Author's creation, neither the characters nor the locations therein belong to The Author, as they belong to JK Rowling, with the exception of any characters or locations within this Story which have no representation in cannon-these original characters and locations are the property of The Author. This is a work of fiction produced for the single purpose of entertaining fans of Harry Potter, and no Copyright infringement is intended.

Submission for: 2 Week Drabble Wars: Main Attraction over at HSWW forum.

Prompt:

Day Four, "I am just like my mother. When she is upset, she cooks." (Criminal Minds)

Required word count range: 100 - 500

Word count: 500