The only thing their situations held in common was the fact that, now, Pansy and Draco had both taken a life; lives in Draco's case. The fact of the matter was, though, that she hadn't known before the emotional ramifications of being responsible for death personally and now she did. The reasons surrounding what she had done and what he had done were vastly different, but it all boiled down to the same thing: in a choice between to evils, choosing to survive would always be the more appealing option.
She had never actually faulted him for his actions, not once. She'd never seen him as someone to avoid. What happened back then was solely based upon her selfishness of not having wanted to deal with something that was a very real fear to her. And yet here he was, no questions asked, no hesitation, to be by her side when she really needed him the most. And she hadn't been able to initiate that particular courtesy in years past.
At least, in part, the focus she was now giving to the similarities between the two situations was keeping her sole focus off of what had just transpired. It was still keeping her shaken up, but the weight of it hadn't truly hit her yet. She was thankful for the small victories, however bittersweet they may be.
Yes, she was indeed thinking about their past. Not only that, but their present, too. She searched his eyes--for what, she didn't know--and moved to rest her hand against his neck, keeping him there; touching him to make sure he was there. He was a much better person than she was, that was for certain.
"I'm so sorry," she breathed finally. She'd said it before, so many times, but this time it held a different meaning behind it. Death was not a black and white concept, not in the least. There were so many shades of gray and being able to take a life was not something you simply could do, but sometimes had to do. And on her mind now was the fact that if he had not made the choice to take a life, he would not be here with her today. That was the gray area, wasn't it? It was either face the fact that death was inevitable and that choices had to be made or risk losing everything and, as much as she thought she had before, she really would have lost everything had Draco not been successful in his mission.
It probably made no sense, her own thoughts were muddled and incoherent. The way she looked at him now, though, was different; a new understanding flickered in her eyes. Yes, she was scared, torn, sick at the thought of what she'd just had to do, but for the moment this was about them and the choices they had both made and how wrong she had been before. Soon enough, she was certain that the full impact of the night's events would wash over her as they had done when Fletcher had first gotten to the Apothecary. Right now, though--Merlin--she was so exceptionally aware of that fact that Draco was here. It was selfish of her, yes, to be glad of his presence when she'd not done anything to deserve it, had done quite the contrary years before, but she was glad nonetheless.