Rubbing at his own shoulders, and not soothing his wife in the way that Prince Charming would have, Draco kept thinking.
"Parvati... it's not that I don't trust you with this information. But some of these men are my colleagues who have trusted me with this information. I swore to tell no one. It might be different if you weren't in the same condition, but as it is, I can't be so callous and hypocritical. Even if you're my wife, it's best if no one knows." There was Draco Malfoy being Draco Malfoy again. That was his best attempt at trying to explain the situation nicely. Yet the blond was always conflicted when he was nice-- he felt that if he was too nice, the severity of certain situations wouldn't be understood.
Clearing his throat uncomfortably, Draco slid his tongue along the back of his front teeth.
"I still feel the same way about you." He slid his gaze over to her. And sounded stiff, but serious. "I know you're probably worried and letting your imagination carry you away," he chuckled slightly. "Ah," he leaned back slightly, his hair flopping slightly over his eyes, "do I always have to set your head back on for you every time?" His lips slanted, and any audience watching would marvel at how quickly Draco's moods always changed.