Draco merely raised an eyebrow. A poor choice of words, perhaps, but he knew well enough already what Snape was telling him. Everyone loving him was hardly what he was striving for. There were only a few people who had the right to judge him, in his mind, and not even Snape was one of those. Though, his opinion was worth more to Draco than most.
And he believed that answer, he supposed. Snape had aimed to save his life, and nothing more. No doubt he had his own motives for wanting Draco alive, but that wasn't a problem. It was to Draco's benefit, whatever those motives were.
"Well, I certainly wasn't expecting love," he said, very dryly. "Don't bother giving my optimism that much credit." He was almost amused, though he could not have said why. Nothing about this was very funny. Perhaps it was just easier to feel amusement than anything else; maybe it was the dull pain in his back hovering at the edges of his consciousness.
He took a deep breath. "I did everything he asked of me, everything," he said. "But it wasn't enough to keep everyone safe from Him." It didn't matter that it hadn't been his fault Pansy was punished, that the Dark Lord had probably not even realized the effect it would have on Draco to see her tortured like that. The Dark Lord was a danger to Pansy, therefore Draco's future happiness was threatened under his regime.
That wasn't really a full answer, though Snape was intelligent enough; he might be able to put two and two together. Draco wasn't looking at him to see whether his expression held confusion or comprehension or anything else, though, he was staring at the fire. His next move was completely unclear to him, and he disliked that immensely.