Draco wanted a drink, indeed. And a few hours to sit alone and contemplate everything in his study. But it seemed that he was trapped in this pocket of time, with no Malfoy connections to bail him out.
"Parvati." He said her name again, and almost sounded impatient. "You're not the only witch that this has happened to. It's not taboo." He sounded curt. "I know most of the names in this situation. Higher ups keep the names of their wives hush hush, but we know. And we'll keep your name even quieter, but I'll help you. I'll find it for you again."
"Come to work with me as my secretary for a bit. I can keep an eye on you. Magic is only required to light the fire in my office, but that's behind closed doors, and I suppose I can manage that myself." Indeed, Draco sounded like he was firing off instructions to a secretary. But Draco didn't know how to be soft in times like these. He only knew how to attempt some sort of strength, and only knew how to try to calmly assess the situation. He had learned, in his past, that emotion got you nowhere. And although his wife might have been a different situation, calling for something else, an old dog never really learns new tricks.
"If anyone asks you about the magic situation, or if anyone's stupid enough to ask if you've lost magic, simply say that it's become such a controversial subject, and you don't want to say anything about it to offend the suffering families. If they insist, smile sheepishly and say that you've already stepped on a few toes already and really can't say anymore."